We spent the day with Caroline, walking about the city, going shopping and eating the Ayahuasca diet meals at Margaritaville. Carolina told us that there were shamans in her family as well and some of her aunts warned her of using magic abilities that she might possess as a passed on trait, from generation to generation. Then she went on to tell us that while under the power of Ayahuasca each person may be presented with two lines of color in their visions, one Red, representing the dark spirits, and one white, representing the good or neutral spirits, and that each person must choose which line to follow.Just as in Star Wars, the dark side is quick and easy, seductive and also quite destructive, while the good is a difficult lifelong process that can be lonely and seemingly un-rewarding at times. While we might not always remain on one line or the other, it is important to know the difference, and make a conscious decision about which one you want to follow.We finished our meal and Carolina went to work while we spent the next 4 hours at an internet cafe, I updated the blog and Blake watched London Real, A youtube based talk show program that interviews all kinds of businessmen, athletes, inventors etc, with the main them of the show being ¨It´s about the journey¨ with one of the usual topics of conversation being psychedelics and each interviewees experience or lack thereof with them.When we finished up there Blake and I had an intense conversation about our childhoods concerning all the ways we treated each other and how the effects of those actions last even to this day. Blake said, ¨People have so many problems, many of them are bullshit white people things, first world problems you know, but they still affect us all in lots of ways, sometimes so badly that were fucked up for life and we don´t even know why, lashing out at those closest to us without even being able to explain the cause.¨While we were having this unreal dialogue a man in blue cut off jeans and dark ray ban glasses came up beside us as we were looking out across the Amazon. ¨relax im a local, I live here.¨ He said in hushed tones, as he swayed side to side a bit with his body as his arms got comfortable gripping the concrete railing in front of him. ¨It´s wild here isn't it?¨ he said, wiping the sweat from his brow. ¨Strong stuff they got.. I partied all last night. Dancing naked with the crazy girls. My fiancée would be jealous though I think, Don´t tell her ok? Shes over there.¨ As he tilted his head in a completely obvious manner behind him towards the cafe at our backs.¨What are we talking about here, white?¨ I asked, swiping the tip of my nose with my thumb quickly, a classic cocaine gesture. He exhaled with a low-tone laugh and looked side to side then looked out across the water, raising his Ray Bans closer to his eyes. ¨You know people come from thousands of miles to Iquitos to get this stuff...¨ a long pause and then he continued. ¨Ayahuasca, you know?¨¨Yeah we know.¨ we said. ¨That´s why were here.¨ ¨Ohh! well then, come with me, come, come along this way with.¨ not even finishing the sentence as he turned away from us walking in a zombie like stride towards the cafe. Seeing no real danger in the obviously tweaked but coherent individual, we followed him 30 feet or so to the table where his companion, the supposed fiancée, was sitting.He told us of his plans to sell his boats in the Caribbean and elsewhere, in hopes of furthering his business dealings in import export, presumably from here in Iquitos back to the States, and then we started talking about what we were all hoping to find, or perhaps run away from here in Peru. He told us he had ptsd and that the Ayahuasca helped him in many different ways. We asked him what he had gotten ptsd from and then he told us that both his father and his brother had hung themselves one after the other. We told him that he was doing the right thing using Ayahuasca and that we were glad he was doing ok. ¨You guys are good people, your ok with me, I want to help you.¨ He said, as we reached inside the cafe window for a pen and paper.¨I got this guy, he´s a real Ace. Lives in the village not far from here, I´ll give you his number, call him, he´ll fix you both, a real Ace!¨ He said, as he lowered his Ray Bans for the first time revealing his heavily hollowed, blood-shot eyes and a finicky gaze. He wrote down the number after placing the dry slip of paper on a perfectly damp portion of the table, handing the now soggy information to Blake, who thanked him put it in his pocket. Blake and I introduced ourselves and with a moments looking around he told us his name was John and that he too was glad to meet us. ¨You going to be alright?¨ we asked, as we excused ourselves. ¨Ohh yeah.. Me? I´m just an old Hanger. I´ll be fine.¨ A very curious expression to use we thought, and said goodbye, walking away without a word to each other until we rounded the corner towards Margaritaville.¨Be careful who you trust.¨ Said Blake, ¨That´s what the coca leaf shaman told me in Cusco.¨ ¨Funny,¨ I said, ¨The shaman told me I don´t trust enough.¨ we laughed and then talked between us wondering which line John was following now, the Red or the White? A question we both equally must consider for ourselves...