#Amazon Vision of Paradise

"To the man who travels on horseback for long through wilderness comes an eventual desire of a city. Finally he arrives at Isidora ..."                         Italo Calvino, Invisible Cities, free translation

This blogger always dreamed of taking part on a deep Amazonian trip, embroiling into this fascinating jungle, never minding if it could be a dangerous, uncomfortable, or too hot adventure for a Southeastern Brazilian, born in São Paulo City, some 3.000 Km away from the Amazon Basin, but also belonging to this huge country, owner of the major part of the world's largest jungle. Never minding if high prices, seemingly more adequate for rich foreign tourists would have to be paid.  

After pondering about some different travel schedules and spending many hours with those rainforest maps, finally the departure moment: ten days in a jungle lodge on the Juma river were reserved by us.

After a 3 hours on a Boeing 737, we arrived at Manaus for a 2 days stop in a last urban hotel. Then, embarking on a bus departing from that capital's downtown, we soon were on a ferry crossing that gigantic meeting of Solimões and Negro river waters  till the other bank, where a microbus waited us for  a journey of still four hours without stopping, going deep into the densest jungle on a poor road. 

Our little group was delivered by the  trip's last wheeled vehicle at a tiny igarape cove with some harbored canoes.  On one of these a stalwart Indian were to drive us through narrow canals to the final destination, while telling fascinating tales about caymans and piranhas devouring human flesh, of so many wild jaguars, and so on. 

Till a few bungalows hanging on treetops at River Juma's right bank were seen, the Juma Lodge, comprising  a dozen huts as  its whole facility.

What an adventure! This little hotel was virtually destroyed in the massive flood of 2009, and then, after 12 months without activity, was no more than almost ready to accept guests. Phoenix out of the ashes, those  exuberant images were evoking us the infinite power of Nature with its cycles of destruction and rebirth. 

A majestous scenario capable of waking up inside sensible people the urge for a Green Revolution, which ought some not distant day save the Earth!

Next day morning, a breakfast in a cafeteria shaped as  a Yanomami hut. What a thrill!  No, that was not Yanomami land, which nears the Venezuelan border, far north from Juma river. Those indians' mores puts them among the most distant peoples from contemporary civilization,  with a set of behaviors, which has draw them the central focus of attention for anthropologic studies all over the world. Why a Yanomami inspiration by that lodge's founders?

To induce tourists to phantasize a place where free sexual behavior prevailed, since those indians do not know a clear family order, living in open sexual community?

Well, those were my first thoughts that morning.

There were no TV broadcasting signals, nor radio stations. And I have always hated TV, but also any informations avalanche! Neither would I be bothered by cell or conventional phone calls. Not even my e-book reader (kindle) could work... It would be, for this São Paulo dweller, myself, gagged for decades by this hellish megalopolis, 10 days without any contact with the trash and trinkets that belong to this pathetic consumist civilization, increasingly devoid of any meaning. Finally I had a chance, amidst the Tropical Jungle, away from everything and everyone to feel free from our hellish civilization. Exactly as it happens in my dreams, daydreams, and fantasies throughout my whole life.

Soon after breakfast, tasting a delicious cupuaçu juice behold more of my thoughts while looking at that wide river and  its exuberant jungle surroundings:

- "Not everything is lost! There is still space (and time) to the enjoyment of the full authenticity of ourselves. The melancholic Lars von Trier is obviously mistaken, since not every human action is just imitation or repetition under continuous surveillance. George Orwell -- another grumpy genius -- was wrong, 1984's 'Big Brother' dictator will never dominate mankind.

I did not go alone to Juma but with a gorgeous partner, and yet, or perhaps even because of this, I quickly noticed two pretty teen sisters nearing me, one being about 16  the other about 18 y o. And 'what a mighty boobs' they had, as uses to say my friend Enzo when facing in similar wonder sights!

I soon caught a glance of theirs unequivocally denoting some interest in this hot, gorgeous,  over fourty guy, myself. Oh yes, they were looking at me! The eighteen girl maybe was even  already taking a further step in my direction as to... I got excited for real, almost euphoric.

"This place is definitely  my dream's paradise! Perhaps even it is a Yanomami style paradise.   

Here in this dense jungle it will happen at last the so long awaited orgy of my daydreams: surrounded by a horny harem with plenty of hot and gorgeous girls... I, the only male, diplaying my own so big endowments while looking at the delicious body contours of so thirsty females."

At that exact moment when I was planning to ask that so similar to Beyoncée girl (a German guy's escort) to come to "my forming harem",  the busty girl asked me all of a sudden:

"Hi Sir, you are Wagner's father, aren't you? Henrique Wagner, I mean, who studied at Santa Cruz School, now attending Social Sciences at USP? We have studied together, and now I attend the Institute of Chemistry at that same University..."

Awkward, isn't it? For I was imagining myself very well shielded there, even armored against our Big Brother melancholy civilization. 

Thought that I would be forced to leave the fake anonymity only on the distant day in which my credit card had to be paid, dreamed I was free from any connection with the  mass global society to the point of allowing myself the boldness of Jean Paul Sarte when he said: "Moi? Non, je n'ai pas de surrmoi!" ["Me? Of course I don't have a super ego!"]

"The city contained the dreamer as young, at Isidora he arrrives at advanced age... Desires were then memories".                                        Italo Calvino, Invisible Cities, free translation                                         

                ΩΩΩ

Just click below to meet Italo Calvino's Isidora, at least for a quick glance before sunset:

http://reality-to-who.blogspot.com.br/2013/02/cities-and-memory-2.html