Tarapoto... enjoying a perfect evening

I am sitting in a lovely restaurant, enjoying a light evening breeze and listening to Hey Jude being played on an Andean Pipe mixed tape… it is a perfect night. 

And it follows a spectacular afternoon.  No great adventure, but time spent with a friend looking at homes and property in the small town of Lamas just outside of Tarapoto.  There is raw land for sale for the equivalent of $120.00 per hectare.   Homes for sale on a couple of hectares for about $80,000.  Which do you think I am more interested in? 

One home I saw would have been perfect… and thus a perfect example of the kind of dwelling to copy.  Tropical mosquito screen walls, beautiful wood beams, incredible bathroom… Bet I can do that too but with way less money.  A jungle retreat for when I get tired of the Chachapoyan rains.  Four wheel drive necessary. 

I am a nutbar, obviously.

We drove back towards town stopping to pick up local farmers leaving their fields for the day and carrying heavy bags of bounty.  There were a couple of women in colourful hot pink and orange native dress carrying loads down their backs slung traditionally from their heads, thus leaving their hands free.  Into the back of the pickup they all went until there was no more room, and every now and then someone would bang the top of the cab to indicate it was drop off time.

After our last guest had hopped down we made a beeline for coffee at a café run by a local collective and it was delicious.  Bought as much coffee as I think my suitcase can accommodate.  As my suitcase is already bulging at the seams it is becoming obvious that I will be buying a larger bag in Lima… I love to shop at the Indian Market there!  Shawls, belts, sweaters, baskets, trinkets and jewellery.   If the god of air travel are kind I should have a whole day to devote to this passion.  J

I think I would have done well as a travelling gypsy.   Wherever I park my butt becomes  home.  So I wonder, why move on?  Why return?  On a tip from a fellow traveller I read a book called The Alchemist about a traveller setting out to seek a fortune, the lessons learned, and following the path that life and situation dictate.  Not a great description, not a big book, but it stressed the importance of moving forward not back. 

So why do I return?  Ask me again when I am back in Courtenay and I will probably then ask why do I want to leave…  I have been roaming since I was a teenager, and 35 years later I still don’t seem able to settle down. 

… back in my hammock after a lovely salad of palm hearts and avocado, washed down with a lovely tropical juice called Cocana.  Mmm, Mmmm Good.

I have done my online check in for my flight tomorrow afternoon which will leave me the better part of the day to occupy myself.  Maybe a boulder-hop up river? 

Oh ick, there is something crawling up my leg… 

Now it is a squished something.

There is some REALLY BAD karaoke going on at the bar across the street.  Last night the music was loud and played late into the night, not to mention Mr. Action Film watching TV at a stupid volume until the wee hours.  Oh the joys.

But how I wish I could gather you all up and bring you here… everyone should have the opportunity to sit or swing in this idyllic setting (karaoke excepted).  The air is perfect, warm enough to appreciate the gentle cool breeze that drifts by.  Gently rocking back and forth I look up and see the intricacies of the woven grass roof, down to my favourite deep red terracotta tile floor and out to the tropical gardens backlit by the warm-white glow coming from the occupied rooms.  That I could pack this up and bring it home to my backyard. 

I am going to just sit here and rock back and forth for a while… giving the mosquitoes their quota of blood while I do.  After all it is the jungle.  Tonight I intend to enjoy it enough for everyone.