It is worth noting that in the time between this post and the previous, I have since finished my time in the Amazon, after nearly two months. With the rather full-on days, I didn’t find much time to write, so instead of forcing myself to, I felt it better to take a break and finish the story when I am back home. The memories are hopefully going nowhere, and I shall enjoy reliving them via the writing process. So let’s continue with Thursday 27th March. I think that is where we left off.

The days often start at 7am and sometimes do not finish until 7:30pm, by which point, I need to rest. Today, my day starts with cleaning the baños. This means sweeping the floor, filling up the water bottles which we use to flush away our urine once its made its way down the pee hole, and most importantly, burning the used toilet paper. This is done near the road in a brick structure that is covered by metal sheets. We also use this for burning old hay and it has not changed since I was here nine years ago. I watch over the inferno as the sun rises over the road, with her rays shining through the billowing smoke. It’s quite pretty (if you try not to think about that fact that it’s particulate feacal matter).

Following this delightful morning task, we head in for breakfast and learn during annuncios that there will be no tucumanas tonight because Don Victor needs to raise the price. Inflation is rife in Bolivia right now. With the day off to a disappointing start, Val and I then carry a ladder about a mile into the jungle, over the bamboo crossings, between the hanging vines and through the boggy swamps, to Gaia’s enclosure, where we intend to remove the bamboo that fell on her management cage this week. We follow the usual morning routine, spending lots of time with Gaia and completing plenty of laps of the enclosure with her before getting started on the gardening. The bamboo is about 10 metres long and needs to be cut into manageable sections. Val supports the ladder as I hack away at it with a machete. After some time and several rounds of ladder repositioning, we obtain a result that we are satisfied with and then make additional use of this vital tool by clearing the fire break between the enclosure and the rest of the jungle. Adi and I then carry the ladder back to camp and I discover that I much preferred carrying this thing from the front.

We arrive slightly late and have a shorter lunch. Marine is ill so I’ll be heading to Kusiy alone today. Furthermore, with the construction team working hard near his enclosure and with them not being so keen on walking to camp and back again through the almighty swamp, Jenn asks if I can carry some lunch and water to them. With no one to split the load with, my rucksack will be heavy today. I arrive 200m shy of the enclosure, at “Cocina de Kusiy”, where we prepare his meat parcels at the start of each session, to find the construction workers waiting for me. I deliver their food and water and fuel for the chainsaw. There is also some juice from lunch for them. With this and the chainsaw fuel being in a plastic water bottle, I make a conscious effort to inform them which is which, in order to ensure that I have no bodies to carry back to camp later. I’ve transported enough today. I then prepare the meat parcels and head over to Kusiy. I quite like working with a cat alone. It’s an opportunity to socially switch off and chat rubbish with your pal. With this in mind, I am disappointed to turn up and not find Kusiy waiting for me. Does he not share my feelings? I head over to his management cage to find him just waking from a nap. I feel you, buddy. Suffering only a minor disturbance to our routine, we then begin our stroll around the perimeter, where I soon happen upon a large tortoise. Kusiy notices too and starts attempting to dig for him. I hastily lift the creature and carry him away into the jungle. There are not many animals one can just pick up, but then again, there are not many animals whose defence mechanism is to sit still and hide inside their own exoskeleton. With the tortoise showing no desire to move until the scary jaguar is gone, and with Kusiy showing no signs of giving up his quest to reach the tortoise, this is indeed the right course of action. As I initially lift the shelled fella, he retreats inside his shell even further. Shortly after, he then seems to be poking his head out to see where the strange man is taking him. This is also, I suspect, not a bad way of maintaining one’s bearings. In any case, I enjoy the sight of a tiny tortoise head sticking out in front of me and enjoying the view as he is taken on this ride.

I arrive back at the enclosure and spend an afternoon with a very distracted Kusiy. He has little interest in me or walking laps; he is too focused on where his new pal went. He doesn’t seem to be cross with me, though. This I am thankful for. With Kusiy preoccupied in his management cage, I head into his main enclosure and use the extra time to clear termite trails, as well as jaguar trails. I feel he would benefit from an extra passage or two within his section of thick jungle.

At 5pm, I head home to shower and venture into the Comedor where I shall complete my final task of the day. Every night, two people are randomly selected to do “dinner com”. The cooks have already made dinner and have left it in a big pan. Our job is to bring the pan into the seating area, prepare late plates for anyone who cannot arrive by 7pm, and clear up when everyone is done. All these tasks were the same nine years ago, though with the additional job of lighting candles back then, given the lack of electricity. With the need to stay late, I join Mario and both French and Belgian Marine in a card game named “Cambio”. We play several rounds in an attempt to make the time before bed pass a little quicker. Shortly before we call it a night, I let out a cartoon yelp, frightening the life out of the Marines and causing Mario to laugh hysterically. An unidentified large insect has landed on my leg and with the lack of knowledge of whether or not it will kill me, combined with an ounce of surprise, I responded like this. I feel it was justified. To ease the damage to my ego, all three other members of the squad respond in the same way once they have seen the creature too. This place will never run out of an assortment of creepy bugs.

It is Friday 28th March. One more day of work before our day off. Our morning with Gaia is enjoyed in glorious sunshine and she has a lovely time on her walk through the jungle. The only downside is that, when attempting to clear termite trails, her platform collapses under the weight of my knee. Wooden structures do not fare well in the rainforest. We remove the rotten planks of wood and any loose nails that Gaia could hurt herself on. We then invite our feline pal back into her management cage, where we are met with a look of contempt. Sorry, Gaia. I then return to camp, late again, and use the time before the afternoon shift to do my washing. This is my Friday routine. I hang my clothes in the direct sunshine, hopeful that it will stay dry.

With Marine feeling better today, we head to Kusiy together. Although Kusiy is no match for an outwitting tortoise, he triumphs against armadillos. This is something I learn in an unsavoury fashion as I remove a dead beast from his top platform. This rather unfortunate creature must have entered the enclosure through the tunnel between Kusiy’s main enclosure and management cage. This narrow section of Kusiy’s home, in between two sliding doors, has vertical bars instead of fencing, with about 15cm between each bar. This is where surgery is performed by the vets, should there ever be a need to do so. The gap is wide enough for an armadillo to squeeze through. With our jaguar friend fed (with meat parcels and a little bit of armadillo), I slide the corpse into Kusiy’s meat bucket and carry the remains of the creature back through camp and over to the bone hole. Goodbye, armadillo.

As we are making this return journey, the heavens open and in minutes, everything is wet. Why did I leave my clothes out in the open? Why did I trust the jungle? Defeated, I take my shower and wait in the Comedor for our weekly cafe trip. Crystal prepares the drinks and, as always, we all assist in carrying everything over to our special drinking spot, over a mile from any animals. Today, with a reluctance to use my soaking wet backpack, I opt for carrying the speaker. This is my second cafe this time around, with last week having been spent at the Laguna instead. I have more confidence than two weeks ago and see fit to introduce the non-Europeans to ring of fire. With everyone quickly bevved up and having a great time, the night is quickly lost to questionable dancing.

It is Saturday (to be fair, we were about three hours into Saturday when I went to bed). I wake up quite hungover and proceed to the baños. To my displease, someone has sprinkled ash in the pee hole again (in case I have as of yet failed to mention it, we sprinkle ash over our poops to reduce the smell). This results in a pipe blockage and hence my urine vacating the premises with a lack of urgency. I head on over to my washing to monitor the situation. The clothes are wetter than when I had finished ringing them out yesterday. I take a frustrated sigh and stare blankly into the distance. Monkeys can be heard foraging above me. They like the tree above our dorms. They also show a lack of manners, as they eat the delicious fruit and drop the shells with no regard for the residents below. A piece of fruit debris narrowly misses me and I decide to take shelter in the Comedor. Marine and Mario are waiting, and Marine kindly organises a taxi to Guarayos. Following our mandatory frappe, we then explore the markets and shops, stocking up on fruit and breakfast bits for the week ahead. Our taxi driver, displeased with our small party, searches the town for more folks to join on our return journey. He is very successful and we all pile into the cramped cab. These taxis are known as “rapidos”. They charge a set fee for each passenger and usually only leave when they are full. On this trip, every seat is full, with a teenage girl sat on her father’s lap in the front row. I ask Mario why this is, to which he replies “kids ride free”. I have a feeling that this refers to a toddler sat on a parent’s lap. This girl is at least 16.

We arrive back at camp in the pouring rain and quickly race back to our dorms. I take a nap before dinner and wake up to discover that I have been sharing my bed with a frog. I politely insist that they vacate, before running through the rain again to dinner. Saturday dinners usually aren’t great. In this case, it is another pasta that has been marinating since lunch time. The phrase “melts in your mouth” is generally considered a confectionary triumph, but I dare say that this does not apply to fusilli.