Ridiculousness

Keels wakes me at 6 am with fresh lime juice. He did dink her - last
time I share any beverages with him. He shows me a few lumps under his
eye. Mmmmmm.

ENTRY FROM KEELS:

Mmmmmm. I haven't written anything yet, because most of the time head
co-ordination has been shite. Good to see the Wev though. When I hadn't
heard from him prior to his arrival in the Bog, I really shat myself. I
got the relevant numbers to contact 'cos I thought he'd been kidnapped.
Unfortunately, he rang about three hours late.

Have had a wicked time with the olde chap - no need to explain the
funny moments, Wev's done a fine job. Though watching him staring at
South American tits &; arse does make me titter. Can't believe he
used hair thickening shampoo in the Amazon River. His Spanish has
definitely improved - 'Have you gotta fooda?' will always be a classic.
He's also a greedy bastard &; flicks greenies in public. Funny thing
about a 'first aid kit'. Whilst in the jungle, Wev mentioned at least
six times a day how he wanted an official ceremony to hand over the
stuff. Great idea though. It was the first &; last thing mentioned
each day.

Dirty stop out last night - sitting in Santa Rosa, Peru at the moment,
drinking Pilsner Beer at 8.30 am, looking across the rio &; chatting
to two ladies who work in the place where we have breakfast - cool -
though Wev thinks that they want to marry us. Not bad looking though,
one of them has a tash.

The old plant was cool yesterday - I fell in love with the daughter -
old habits die hard. The plane to Iquitos will of course be late......a
good excuse to get wasted. Have to have a sleep first as I think I have
herpes.

The ladies left after a little while, promising to be back before the
flight left. The flight was of course late, the geezer who sorts it out
strolled into the bar &; set up stall next to pissed soldiers. he
called us &; varying other oddities over to him. Everything seemed
cool until we were directed to the Peruvian Immigration. It was a tiny
wooden hut that looked exactly the same as every other building cum hut
in Santa Rosa. Our guides came in the form of 10 nuns of differing
shapes, colours &; sizes. We filled out the relevant forms &;
waited patiently until we were served by a greasy middle aged
woman.

'Where is your exit stamp?'

'Aaayyy?'

'You need an exit stamp from Colombia.'

'Shit - when's the plane leaving?'

'Three quarters of an hour - 11.30.'

We dashed to the bar, where Keels sorted out a fast boat over to
Leticia. We got there in five minutes, saw Raymond at a bar playing
cards, a quick hola &; a rush to find the DEA office. Found, stamped
&; back to the boat. We arrive back in Santa Rosa dead on 11.30 to
find the Immigration Hut closed. A rap on the door &; the woman
tells us to hold on. Two minutes later, she opens it. A smell of fried
chicken is in the air, we can also hear the shower running. Have to
fill out entry documents again - they'd binned the last set. The lady
then takes the completed forms through a door &; into another room.
She shouts - a grunt - the shower turns off. A fat bloke with a
solitary towel wrapped round his lower libido appears in the doorway a
couple of times - a grunt - BANG BANG - we're now legally in
Peru.

The plane obviously sits on the river for another hour, within which
time, Keels is accosted by one of the pissed up squaddies. We were then
herded together &; taken out to a wooden platform in the river,
where the plane is parked, by a geezer with his trousers around his
arse. It was a lovely scene though. Kids jumping about in the river -
Leticia &; Tabatinga on the other side of the shore, trees &;
very plump &; content looking vultures chilling on the shore. The
herd gathered on the platform &; all were told to put on the
obligatory life jackets before boarding. It's a hot day. Once settled
into the tiny capsule, one of the pilots told us larger chaps to get
out - they had to call over builder butt bwoy to transport us back over
to the platform. The plane has got stuck in the sand. This is the end
of the driest season in the Amazon, thus the rivers are at one of their
lowest points. It still couldn't move - the smaller men &; fat
nuns/women were next onto the platform - no - all passengers on
platform - the plane darts away across the river &; comes to a halt
in the middle. An extra boat has now joined in the mission &; over
we go to the plane. We all had to traverse these extremely balance
conscious boats in the middle of a 5 km wide river to get back on the
plane. Finally, we're off - Keels &; I crash straight away - the
journey consists of head resting on shoulder, waking to absolutely
stunning river views (the plane remains underneath the cloud cover all
journey) &; feeling a tad confused when the plane did the odd circle
for no reason. We eventually reached steamy Iquitos @ 3 pm.

A local taxi / rickshaw driver asked is where we wanted to go.

'Straight to the airport.'

Time is short - we have today &; tomorrow left &; want to get to
Nasca for a nice way to end the trip - won't be able to get there
direct though, via Lima is our only chance. Obviously, being the
drongos we are, we didn't get any Peruvian money (sols) in Leticia. We
only have Pesos or ?100 bills. No change place at the airport &;
nobody has change of $100. Shit. Keels sneaks out a $50 bill. Cheeky
monkey - where did that come from. We were sorted. Cabby hung around
whilst Keels asked about flights. His fluent Spanish &; general
chilled vibe has really got us in with some intelligent &; nice
people. Mr Translator Man - Word. We're seen as your not so average
gringos, with an actual &; sincere interest in the people &; the
area. Sorry, off on a different vibe there - there wasn't a flight to
Lima until 7.45 tonight. We wanted to be in Nasca tonight. Decided not
to risk the chance of arriving in Lima at midnight &; chose to chill
in Iquitos for the night. Got the tickets for tomorrow before jumping
back in with cabbie.

This is the first real taste of what I hope is my spiritual home -
Peru.

The kind cabbie took us to a hotel after reassuring words from the
extremely competent English speaking airline attendant. First hotel was
full, so went to another - nice - satellite TV - clean &; $10/night.
Iquitos looks clean, not much litter in Centro. A City of just under a
million, cut off from the outside world by road. River &; plane are
the only ways in &; out. We booked in, then the cabster took us
somewhere to exchange our excess of dollars &; pesos. Still fairly
apprehensive of him. Keels suggested asking him whether we should ask
him to sort out some herb. 'Good idea'.

Whilst sorting out the paltry sum of money fatboy Keels was haggling
over, we asked &; another haggling session followed when he told us
he could sort it out in 10 minutes. Twice the price of the Bog, but
Keels knows the score up there. A quick ice cream stroll &; we
returned to our hotel room. A knock on the door &; it was our
increasingly trusted friend. Produces 4-5 wraps amounting to about 6-7
spliffs. I started thinking greedily &; we handed him 40 pesos (?10)
for a big bag &; a chat with his bro'. Estimated time of arrival -
three quarters of an hour. Good film on though, so we relaxed, didn't
bother attempting to shuffle gear we had into a snout, due to the
imminent arrival of rizlas. One &; a half to two hours later, I
decided to sadly begin the long &; arduous process, both silently
knowing we'd been done up like a pair of kippers. KA KA - our angelic
friend has turned up with three large brothers &; an oz of our green
little pal. The papers were unsticky, so we had to use surgical tape to
stop the joints from collapsing. Shit hot - he wants more money -
obvious - says he had to travel about a lot to collect them. Don't give
a shit. Plan for a two hour cane, then out on the town.

The cabbie left after we arranged for him to pick us up tomorrow
morning. Half an hour later, I was gibbering to a crash victim like,
herbalist only Keels - two to four hours later, I decided to pop out
&; get some munchies &; 'Inca Cola', Peru's coke/Pepsi
competition. I was actually urged out by fatboy as he doesn't really
like the bro' &; I was boring him senseless. He had a toke up, but
cold/malaria/sexually transmitted disease had screwed him. I just
didn't stop repeating things I'd repeated endlessly during the holiday.
This time it was hardcore. On shutting the door behind me, I realised
that I was totally wired &; tensely tip toed down the corridor - in
the distance there were two girls of our age - shit - I lost all oral
&; hand skills I'd acquired over my 26 years. The thumbs up didn't
quite get there. I shouted 'AYYYYYY'. It really only works on 3-5 year
old Amazonian Indians with little or no contact with the western world.
Laughter ensued from the ladies, the bro' made me forget how to laugh
&; I scurried downstairs with shouts of 'Bueno' behind me. A high
pitched droll of 'Bueno' lasting about ten seconds &; reaching about
ten decibels omitted from my now extremely dry mouth. I felt like such
a gibbon as I heard much laughter &; similar squeals of 'Bueno' from
what was now three floors up. Got out the hotel after shuffling past
two male species in the reception.

I avoided eye contact with anyone. I'm positive my eyeballs were larger
than Keels' new found casual dinks arse. Pretty difficult in these
parts as everybody looks at me, because I'm the only gringoid about,
but each &; every confrontation is a deep, burrowing stare into my
eyes. They'll know that my brothers about &; lack of speech meant
the small reminder of what to purchase had become invaluable. Strut
down the middle of the road, rather than the pavement, so as I could
build up all of my courage &; energy to speak to the shop assistant
without sounding like a cocky, loud Western twat. The bro' makes any
speech, no matter how genuine you are, sound pretty insincere when
speaking to non indulgers. I feel dirty. Two to three minutes later, I
saw a rickshaw driver wave at me as he approached &; I moved to the
side of the road.

'NO - NO WANTA.'

Out popped the chap who sorted us out from beginning to end of our stay
in Iquitos - he obviously offered me a lift - it's only about 200 yards
around the corner, but my total glazed paranoia at meeting the geezer
who provided the goods so as I could debauch myself up with dub big
time, allowed him the pleasure of driving me.

He said: 'Gibber, gibber, gibber - bueno.'

'Mucho bueno - papas - papas fritas - err - no - chocolat - papas -
pollo - queso - frutas y 'Inca Cola'.

'Okay, gibber, gibber, gibber, bueno.'

'Mucho bueno'

He then proceeded to drive me in the opposite direction for about five
to ten minutes &; back to the square round the corner from our
hotel. Bastardos man, he knew I was totally caned &; just drove
really fast in his rickshaw, thus making my head feel about ten feet
higher than the rest of my body &; any co-ordination a chore. Cabbie
sported a Shakin' Stevens haircut. We pulled up at a local chip shop
equivalent. My Spanish skills just disappeared, then again, so did my
English. I saw some sort of shop over the other side of the square
&; ran over there, eagerly followed by Shaky. Looked about - nothing
I wanted, so I asked the woman whether she had anything on my
list.

'Que?' whilst staring me out. I repeated it, then showed her the list,
hoping to divert her eyes. 'No', but pointed to some Inca Cola. Shit -
I'm going to have to think about more than just communication - a
decision - no - life deals us harsh blows sometimes &; I dealt with
it terribly. Four pieces of petit bread, a tub of rank pate, the Inca
Cola &; two packs of fags. I gave her far more money than she asked
for - &; laughed nervously as she gave it back. The girls were still
there when I returned. They invited us to a party. We had to blow them
out, as I was too wired &; Keels was too knackered. They were quite
fit as well. Nothing at all to eat second day running - Keels ate the
'food' I bought. I just gibbered &; snorted the hunger out of
myself, whilst Keels' decision to ignore the Bro' meant I talked him to
sleep. I'd hate to think how long I continued talking until I realised
he was asleep. A night of solo caning, I suppose. I decided to only
take the hash to Lima tomorrow. Maybe get a charter plane when we
arrive there, as it would be far nicer flying over the Nasca Lines on
our last day, rather than spending it in Lima. I feel we're only going
to make it before sundown if the morning plane is only one &; a half
hours late. Fingers crossed.

So, I've got to finish the bro' tonight &; I haven't got an object
to talk to - bollocks.

The women in Leticia, Tabatinga &; the Indian villages were the most
beautiful Keels &; I have ever seen. The Brazilians were all
beauties with stunning bodies, Colombians adorable, but with the
occasional tash, but still very dinkable &; the Peruvians &;
Indians seemed a mix. Obviously there was still the odd hairy arepa
eater. Some women would probably sell their bodies to you for a fiver,
but that isn't exactly my style. Keels is a bit of a hoe though.
Considering coming back to South America for good next year. Shut the
fuck up - read now - what a wreck. Lighter just exploded on me.
Outrageous - woke up fatboy. No other lighter, so I tried in vain to
sleep - no joy - hour or two later - still tossing, turning, swatting
flys &; picking shrapnel from my chin, I decided this wasn't
working.

I finally built up the confidence to speak to somebody &; left the
room. The chap in reception was asleep &; was finally awaken by the
gaping wide eyed gringoid. I asked whether the Internet Cafe was open,
which wasn't, then asked for some matches. He opened the door - some
tramp was sitting on the step - the vagrant produced a box from his
pocket &; I produced 3 sols (60 p). Probably the most money he'd
seen in his life. Being out of my head, I found dealing with exchange
rates lower then a few thousand a tad difficult. Wally. Managed to
finish bro', a couple of joints later - it was delight. Keels awoke
&; wanted to be woken @ 7am. I crashed at 6am.