The Adventures of Finn Carver

El Ojo del Mundo

2006-01-24T23:58:00.000Z

Presently, the boat pulled up on the banks of a small, riverside village and the passengers began to noisily collect their baggage and clamber off. Finn and Tsursan followed them up towards the shabbily constructed, wooden houses where children and dogs played gleefully in the mud.

Tsursan seemed to know where he was going, so Finn just followed behind obediently. In fact, there was only one street through the village, and beyond it led directly on into dense jungle. The path narrowed quickly to a single track as the plants and jungle sounds drew in around them, and soon they were deep into the forest.

They walked together in silence for around an hour, both of them so absorbed in taking in the sights and sounds of the jungle that they didn't feel the need to talk. All conversation seemed meaningless and empty in this place; it was enough just to listen.

Eventually the path forked into two and Tsur led them to the left down a small embankment where a crudely constructed wooden gate barred the way ahead. Above this hung a large sign, engraved with the words "Kapitari: El Ojo del Mundo".

Tsur cast an arm at the sign and smiled at Finn as he translated, "Kapitari: The Eye of the World."

On the other side of the gate, the path led between thick jasmine bushes covered in white and purple flowers, their delicate, sweet scent floating in the air. They crossed a log bridge over a gentle stream and as Finn's eyes followed the direction of the water, he saw that it opened out into a stunning, green lake fringed by huge palms and lush plantation.

Suddenly they were spotted by three children playing at the lakeside and they immediately came running up towards them waving and laughing their arms in the air, throwing themselves at Tsur in greeting. Laughing, he picked them up in turn and kissed them, then introduced them to Finn. They giggled nervously and ran off into the trees.

Tsur and Finn continued up the path towards the Lake where Finn noticed a dark-skinned, shirtless Indian fishing calmly from a carved canoe in the reeds. As they approaced, the man lifted his rod and began to row his way slowly to shore. Tsur looked at Finn and nodded and at once he knew that this was the Shaman. He froze to the spot in excitement.

The canoe hit the shallow bank at speed, landing itself firmly on the shore. Tsur reached down to help the Shaman out and led straight into a warm embrace. They held each other for a moment and Finn could see that Tsur was whispering something into his ear. Suddenly the Shaman's bright eyes glanced up over Tsur's shoulder straight at Finn and he smoothly broke the hug to offer his hand out to him.

The Shaman's grip was firm and hot and immediately filled Finn with an overwhelming energy, causing everything else to melt away. He looked upon the dark, gnarled torso of the Shaman and realised that he was not shaking hands with a man, but with a great, solid
Oak, connecting him to the very Earth itself. Suddenly, his shoulders relaxed and a great peace descended over him. As he looked up into the Shaman's dark eyes, they seemed to say, "Welcome home."

Boat ride

2006-01-24T18:05:00.000Z

The motocarro skidded to a halt on a dusty road from where muddy steps led down to the long river boat of about 10 metres, roofed by dried palm leaves.

Finn and Tsursan clambered on board and found space between the dogs, chickens and sleeping passengers. Finn watched amused as a serious elderly lady diligently peeled and chopped onions from a large sack opposite, throwing the leftovers into the river and adding the chopped onions to a plastic box. Aside them a young girl openly breast-fed her son. It didn`t seem right somehow: the girl too young, the boy too old.

Presently, the young captain whipped the motor into life and the boat eased its way up the river and away from the town. The engine was too loud to make any reasonable conversation so Finn lay back and watched the riverbank while Tsur lit up another of his sweet-smelling cigarettes.

Gradually the concrete buildings were replaced by unsturdy looking shanty towns, dangerously close to collapsing any second as they creaked and moaned under the weight of their occupants. After a time, these too finished, and the dense jungle canopy closed in over the river, shading the boat from the mid-morning sun.

Suddenly, the boy captain began shouting loudly and waving his free arm. An old Indian guy who had been asleep at the front of the boat jumped up and took a position as look out. Finn sat up and saw that the river reeds ,which usually floated in small islands, had spread out forming a maze across the entire river with only a thin path through.

The Indian bellowed directions back to the rear as they weaved in and out of the reeds sending birds and insects scattering into the air. But up ahead, everyone could see that the river grasses had conjugated into one imprenetable mass with no way round. The boat began to speed up and it became clear that the captain intended to hit the reeds as fast as possible to try and break through.

Just as they hit the reeds, he quickly pulled the outboard motor out of the water and cut the power resulting in a shocking silence as the boat sailed smoothly into the crackling reeds. It looked as though they were about to make it through to the other side when they ground to a slow halt, a few metres short of clear water.

Immediately, t0he boy captain and the old Indian pulled long wooden poles from under the benches and began to try and lever the boat forward off the reed beds from the front and back. The strain was evident on their faces, but nothing seemed to budge them. They were stuck.

Then, with barely a word spoken, all the other passengers dropped their vegetables and children began rocking the boat from side to side. Finn and Tsursan quickly caught on and joined in vigourously while the captain and his vice continued their efforts with the poles. Gradually they began to edge forward and within a few minutes they had broken clear.

Finn was delighted and half expected a great cheer to rise up from the boat in celebration of their joint efforts. He raised his arms above his head and grinned enthusiastically at the other passengers. But they had already gone back to their respective tasks and as the engine whirred back into motion, it seemed almost as though nothing significant had happened at all.

Wisdom

2006-01-24T17:43:00.000Z

"So, where exactly are we going?" asked Finn as he and Tsur raced through the early morning streets in the back of a motocarro.

Tsur reached down into his satchel and rummaged around for a moment before producing a ragged looking business card which he handed to Finn. It read:

Estaciòn Kapitari : Centro de Shamanism y Investigaciòn

Don Seguro Culquitoun

"This man is a Shaman?" enquired Finn.

"Claro," confirmed Tsur. "Normally I don`t place much faith in Shamans, many of them are only interested in money or power, but Don Seguro is different."

"Why?" asked Finn, curious to know more about this man.

Tsu`s eyes flashed. "Whenever a man tries to tell you he has wisdom, look around. If you see that there are happy women and children, if you see healthy animals and thriving plants, then you will know he is telling the truth, for these are the signs of true wisdom."

He paused for a moment to light a cigarette behind cupped palms. As he took a long drag, he noticed Finn bore a slightly anxious expression. "Don`t worry," he said and placed a calming hand on Finn`s shoulder. "You are going to see."

The South Wind Blows

2006-01-23T19:58:00.000Z

After a long, uneventful boat trip spent watching dubbed American films and catching up on sleep, Finn eventually arrived in Iquitos in the late evening. He hailed down one of the buzzing three-wheel motocarros and headed towards the centro.

As they whizzed about the streets, weaving in and out of windowless buses and pot-holes he sensed a strong change of atmosphere from that of Brazil; there seemed to be more character here somehow. Perhaps this was down to the stronger indigenous population immediately obvious in the faces of the pedestrians. But there was something else here too; some kind of energy and vibrance in the noisy, dusty streets that transferred itself straight into him. He felt excited by this place.

The motocarro driver dropped him at the gate of a quirky-looking hostel just off the main plaza. Inside the reception area, he marvelled at the unusual collection of stuffed animals, Indian weapons and trailing plants covering the walls. There was even a bright green parrot squawking at him from a door frame.

While he was waiting for someone to appear, he took a seat on a battered old sofa and began to examine the ancient travel guides, newspapers and novels on the dusty bookcase next to him. His eye was quickly drawn to a thin book on the bottom shelf, Mark Twain`s "Las Aventuras de Tom Sawyer y Huckleberry Finn". He smiled at the sight of his own name and picked it up.

He was reading for a short while before a bearded guy with long thick dreads wearing dark, loose clothing came through the front gate carrying a khaki satchel. Under the thickness of his beard he could have been any age. He nodded silently at Finn as he looked over the top of his book and slumped down next to him.

Finn watched as the guy reached into his satchel and took out a plastic bag filled with hand-rolled cigarettes. Carefully, he lit one and took a long drag with closed eyes. He exhaled with obvious pleasure, sighing with smoke as he sank deeper into the soft sofa.

Slowly he opened his eyes and looked over at Finn. "What`re you reading?" he asked.

Finn casually passed him the book for inspection.

"Ah, an author many years ahead of his time I think," said the guy. "You can read Spanish?"

"A little," said Finn. "I can`t understand every word, but I can kind of picture what`s going on."

The guy laughed. "What is it they say? One picture can tell a thousand stories, but one word can paint a thousand pictures." He smiled, revealing tobacco stained teeth, but it was his shining eyes that Finn noticed: they had that same strange gleam as the Colombian`s. He knew immediately that he could trust him and reached out a hand.

"My name`s Finn," he said.

"Tsur," replied the guy shaking his hand, "like the Spanish for South."

"Have you been to the jungle already?" asked Finn.

"Sure," said Tsur. "I`ve spent some time in the jungle."

Finn paused for a second and swallowed. "Do you know anything about ayahuasca?"

Tsur took another drag on his cigarette and looked at Finn seriously. The gleam was suddenly gone from his eyes. "So, you are interested in the ayahuasca," he said. "You have tried marijuana, cocaine, ecstasy and you want to try something new, right?"

Finn felt slightly affronted, maybe he shouldn`t have asked. "Its not that," he said. "I`m not sure how to explain it, but I`m kind of looking for something and I think that ayahuasca might be the key."

Tsur`s face suddenly broke into a wide grin. "Ah, you are searching!" he laughed. "In this case, I know someone who can help you."

Finn felt his heart begin to race. He could hardly believe what he was hearing. "Who?" he asked.

"I can take you to see him," replied Tsur,"but for now, I must rest. Meet me here at 7 am tomorrow morning." He stood up and put his cigarette out in an ashtray on the bookshelf. "Hasta mañana, hermano."

Tabatinga

2006-01-22T21:49:00.000Z

As the plane began to slowly descend into Tabatinga, Finn realised that he had reached a cross-roads. Where was he to go from here? Should he go back to Manaus and try to find the tribes which the Colombian had told him about? Perhaps the Colombian himself was a clue and he should head into the Colombian jungle? Or should he stick with the vision in his dream and keep heading up the Amazon into Peru? As he collected his bag and left the airport, he felt more than a little confused.

He was immediately confronted by a young Brazilian guy with a strong brow and battered clothes. "Taxi?" he barked into his face.

Finn took a quick appraisal of the situation and saw that the airport was pretty much in the middle of no-where with no other taxis or bus stops nearby. "Ok," he said reluctantly and got in.

As they pulled out of the airport, the driver looked across, "You need passport office?" he asked in broken English. "For Brazilian exit stamp?"

Finn thought about it. Going back to Manuas would be going back on himself after all, and going against his dream too. He decided he needed to keep going. "Sim," he replied.

The driver nodded and soon they were illegally parked in front of an official looking building. Finn quickly ran inside, and the formalities were completed in a couple of minutes. Breathlessly, he jumped back into the taxi, pleased that one decision had already been made already. Now he just had to decide between Peru and Colombia.

"I know good hotel," said the driver. "Very cheap."

"Vamos!" said Finn, feeling in good spirits.

Presently the car pulled up outside a clean looking hotel. A stout fellow in an Argentinian football shirt sat on a red plastic chair out front, a scrawny looking dog sprawled out by his feet. He jumped to attention as he saw Finn arrive, stepping on the dogs tail in the process and sending it howling past Finn into the street.

"Welcome!" he shouted with a friendly grin. " We have a very nice room for you with hot shower and TV!"

"Legal," answered Finn. He felt like a bit of luxury.

"The boat for Iquitos leaves at 5am tomorrow morning. We sell tickets here too," said the Argentine.

Finn smiled and nodded; Iquitos it was.

10 minutes later, he lay in his bed staring at the ceiling and laughed to himself at how easily his decision had been made. In fact, he hadn`t really made a decision at all, he`d just gone with the flow, as though he was surfing a wave.

Everything seemed to be happening of its own accord at the moment, leaving him as just an amused observer of his own life. He thought about this for a moment, was this down to Jane O`Hare? Certainly, everything that had happened since he had met her had been significant. People and objects that had been empty before suddenly all seemed full of meaning for him, connected to him. Was all this her doing or was she merely responsible for making him see what had been happening all along...

The Colombian

2006-01-21T17:51:00.000Z

As the small plane climbed high into the morning sky, Finn gazed wistfully out of the window and sighed. Below, the dark green serpent of the Amazon slid its way calmly through the jungle and for a second he wondered if perhaps he was still in his dream.

Suddenly there was a smooth, latino voice at his shoulder, "Its beautiful isn`t it?"

Finn turned around to find a dark-skinned, young man peering past him out the window. His small round spectacles and well-trimmed goatee only served to enhance his kind eyes and easy smile. "Yeah," replied Finn, "Like a giant anaconda."

"Are you travelling alone?" asked the man.

"Si," said Finn. "Just working my way up the river and seeing where it takes me. And you?"

"I`m heading home to Bogota," began the man. "I have been living with indigenous tribes near Manaus for the last six months as part of my Phd. Now I have to go back and write it up; the boring part!"

"Wow," said Finn. "How was it?"

"An incredible experience. There are some beautiful, perfect tribes living in the forest. I think we can all learn from the way they live in such peace and harmony with nature."

"Claro," agreed Finn. "What`s your field of study?"

"I`m a biochemist," replied the man. "I`ve been studying the chemical properties of the ayahuasca vine in the laboratory, but I wanted to understand its application within the tribe itself. I believe the ceremonies they conduct while ingesting it are crucial to its effectiveness."

"I think I`ve heard of that vine before," said Finn. "Its a kind of hallucinogenic drug isn`t it?"

"Only in the medicinal sense," began the man. "Ayahuasca is a healing plant, for both the body and the mind. The hallucinations are merely a part of the process, producing a cathartic effect in the mind, which then heals the body."

"So its a kind of spiritual healing?" asked Finn, intrigued.

"Exacto. For the shamans itself, it goes much deeper than merely healing though. They believe the vine is an actual pathway to the spirit world that enables them to climb the Great Tree to another dimension. Here they are able to communicate and learn from the spirits of the Universe." Suddenly, he broke off and laughed out loud. "Listen to me! I am sounding less like a scientist and more like a shaman!"

Finn smiled, but inside, he felt a ripple of excitement run through him at the mention of the Great Tree.

He looked up to find the Colombian calmly studying his face. Even behind his glasses, Finn noticed a strange clarity to his eyes, bright and eager like those of a child. They seemed almost to be reading his mind. "You wish to know more?" he asked with a wry smile.

Finn nodded.

"Then you merely have to open your eyes," said the Colombian. "The ayahuasca is all around us."

Flying

2006-01-21T05:58:00.000Z

Finn awoke with a start. The dream was more intense than anything he had ever experienced. He could still remember all its details so clearly in his head, almost as though they had really happened. He couldn`t make sense of everything he had seen, but he was certain of one thing: he needed to leave Manaus as soon as possible.

The hotel Finn was staying in unsurprisingly doubled up as a travel agents, so immediately after breakfast he headed down to reception to find out how soon he could depart for the next major stop on the river, the three way border with Colombia and Peru at Tabatinga.

Unfortunately, he quickly learnt that the next boat wasn`t departing for another 4 days. He couldn`t wait that long. Suddenly, he remembered his dream and the distinct image of the Amazon from the sky...

"Can I fly to Tabatinga?" he asked the guy at the desk.

"Maybe," replied the guy. "Let me call the airport and see whats available."

He picked up the phone and spoke quickly into the receiver in Portuguese for a minute while Finn waited patiently. Suddenly he looked up and clasped his hand over the mouthpiece.

"There`s a flight leaving in 2 hours. 400 reais. If you hurry you can still make it. You want it?"

"I`ll take it" replied Finn without hesitation.

As he packed up his things in his room, part of him was a little disappointed. He had wanted to travel all the way up the river by boat, but after last nights dream, he knew that flying was what he had to do.

The Great Tree

2006-01-20T22:08:00.000Z

That night, Finn dreamt he was deep underwater lying fully spread out on his back and slowly, slowly floating towards the surface. He could even hear the air bubbles popping in his ears as the pressure released from his body. As he emerged from the water into the warm night air, he kept on floating upwards into the sky, up into the stars until he was flying high over the ocean.

He looked down, and far below him he could see the mouth of the Amazon opening out into the sea like the jaws of a great snake. He flew towards it and began to follow it inland past Belem and deep into the forest.

He watched in awe as the tributaries of the river began to glow and shimmer and became snakes, writhing and feeding from the giant anaconda of the Amazon. But as he flew higher he began to realise that they weren`t snakes at all, but the roots of the Great Tree to which everything is connected.

He began to climb the tree and saw the city of Manaus as a knot on the trunk, swarming with insects. Further up, there were bright green leaves and golden fruits, glowing with light and life like alien spaceships. He reached out and picked one and held it in the palm of his hand. He saw that it was translucent and as he peered inside he could see himself stood at the base of the same tree holding the same fruit, and inside that fruit the same image, continuing for ever. Suddenly the the fruit seemed to explode to an infinite size and he fell into it, his arms flailing wildly as he tumbled down, down, down...

Manaus

2006-01-19T00:59:00.000Z

Late that evening, the boat arrived in Manaus, the city at the centre of the jungle. Finn`s initial impression of the city was not favourable: dangerous gaping holes abound in the dirty steets and an overpowering smell of rotting fish filled the air. He nervously navigated the dark streets avoiding the sleeping, limb-less tramps and homeless children until he found a cheap dive.

Finn had re-read Chapter 4 several times that day on the boat. At first he had been most amused by it, although he had to admit it didn`t really sound much like a romance novel. However, as he sat in his windowless hotel room he began to wonder if Jane O`Hare had left it for him on purpose. If so, what did she mean by it? Was it really he who was wasting time?
And what did she mean by "You have all the clues you need" ? Was there some significance in the things that had happened to him and the people he met? Were they perhaps connected in some way?

Reaching into his bag, he took out his journal to see if he could see any patterns emerging, but when he opened it, he was surprised to find that every page was blank. He was confused. He was almost certain that he had been writing it every day, but there wasn`t a single word here. An overhwleming feeling of anxiety suddenly came over him. What was he doing out here on his own in the middle of nowhere; lost, alone and purposeless? Had he been looking for something or maybe even someone? There was something nagging at the back of his mind, but he couldn`t grasp hold of it. He sighed deeply, curled up on the bed and closed his eyes.

Chapter 4

2006-01-19T00:56:00.000Z

Finn awoke early the next morning and decided that he would go and visit Jane O`Hare in her cabin after breakfast and see how her novel was coming along. However, when he arrived at her door, he found it open and inside a porter was re-making the bed.

Finn leaned in, and asked "Onde é Senhorita O´Hare?"

"Desembarcou hoje de manhã." replied the porter and returned to making the bed.

`Strange` thought Finn, she hadn`t mentioned she was getting off this morning. Then again, he hadn`t asked. Suddenly, he noticed some loose papers full of smudged typing on her desk and without thinking about it he picked them up and walked out straight of the cabin.

Back in his hammock, he settled down and began to read...

Chapter 4

"She came round to pick it up?" answered Ayr astonished.

"Well, it certainly looked like her," replied Brian. "Unless she`s got a twin sister anyway!" he laughed.

Ayr remembered the phone call. Had that really been her sister on the phone? Could she have come round while he was out? This was all moving too fast. He put his hands on his head and groaned.

"What`s the matter dickwad? Had a fight or something?"

"Shut up, Brian, I`m trying to think!"

"Only trying to help.." said Brian sulkily.

Suddenly there was a terrible roar and the kitchen floor began to shake violently beneath them. A crack appeared in the corner of the room and started to spread quickly across the floor. Both the men jumped backwards out of their seats, as the ground opened up between them.

Thick vines and plants started to creep out of the darkness, glowing bright green with life and energy. At their tips, flowers began to open displaying beautiful pinks and yellows. The plants edged towards them both separately, entwining themselves like roots around their ankles.

"What the..." started Brian. But before he could finish, a giant anaconda burst forth from the floor and swallowed him in one terrific gulp.

Ayr couldn`t move or think. He was literally rooted to the floor. He watched terrified as the anaconda curled itself into a spiral then floated close towards him. It seemed to be weighing him up, and as its jaws began to open, Ayr put his arms up across his face in a vain attempt to protect himself.

But instead of swooping in to devour him, the anaconda began to speak in a voice that was rich and strong.

"You are wasting time," it said.

Ayr couldn`t believe what was happening. All he could murmur was "Brian..."

"Brian was merely a distraction." replied the great snake. "You need to go in search of Cara."

"But..." started Ayr. "But...I don`t know how to find her..."

"You have all the clues you need already," said the snake. "I will be watching you. Now go."

With that, the snake dived back into the floor and the plants and vines slowly followed behind it, closing up the gap behind them until Ayr was left stood in his kitchen as though nothing had happened. Except that now he was alone.

Sunset on the Amazon

2006-01-18T01:26:00.000Z

The following day, Finn decided to leave idyllic Alter do Chao and get back on the river towards Manaus. He packed up his belongings and a sweaty bus journey and a thrilling moto-taxi ride later and he was back in his trusty hammock on board the Espirito Santo.

After a relaxing afternoon sleeping and reading, he decided to head up to the top deck for a beer while he watched the sunset from the ship´s prow. Leaning over the railings at the front of the ship, and with the warm glow of alcohol seeping through him, he was suddenly irritated by an irregular tapping and clicking coming from the cabin behind him. Peering through the dirty port-window he was surprised to see a very pale, middle aged woman with long auburn hair busily working away on an ancient typewriter. She was dressed in a billowy violet blouse and most curiously of all was wearing red, leather gloves.

Suddenly, she looked up and caught him staring.

"Can I help you young man?" she barked in a clean, English accent.

"Um, sorry, I didn´t mean to stare," apologised Finn.

The woman´s stern face broke into a warm smile. "It´s ok. I guess I must look pretty strange tapping away on this old contraption," she said. "Wait there, I´m coming out."

She emerged from her cabin fumbling to take off her gloves, then presented a slim, blue-veined hand to Finn. "Jane O´Hare," she said.

"Finn Carver," he replied. "Pleased to meet you."

"Likewise," she said. Then, looking up at the sky. "Wow, what a wonderful sunset. To think I was so busy writing away in my cabin that I nearly missed it."

Finn nodded in agreement; the sky had turned a vivid, bright pink, with the river almost luminescent underneath. Up ahead, another riverboat cruised slowly on in silhouette.
They both stood for a moment in quiet contemplation.

"So, you´re a writer?" asked Finn.

"Yes," replied Jane. "Racy, risque, romance blockbusters...you know the sort of thing. Nothing to them really, but they sell well and they give me the chance to travel."

"Sure," said Finn. "So are you writing a novel set in the Amazon just now?"

"Of course. Its about an explorer who heads off into the jungle and never returns."

"Wow," said Finn. "Sounds like the kind of book I would enjoy."

"Perhaps I`ll let you read it when its finished," said Jane with a grin.

She looked at him carefully for a moment, then asked, "And how about you Mr Carver, why are you cruising up this big river? Are you looking for something in particular or are you just running away?"

Finn hesitated, slightly taken aback by the question. Finally he replied, "I guess its a little bit of both... I`m kind of hoping that the answer will jump out at me."

"Hmm," replied Jane thoughtfully. "Perhaps you´d better start asking the questions first."

Finn laughed. "Yeah, I think maybe you`re right."

The Legend of the Pink Dolphins

2006-01-17T23:48:00.000Z

The next day, Finn hired an English-speaking, Indian guide and a motorised canoe to take him on a half-day tour of the area. Setting off at midday, they cruised up through the Lagoa and drifted into a spectacular section of flooded rainforest full of nesting birds. This was followed by a short trek up into the rainforest where they saw numerous bright-blue and yellow lizards and even a couple of monkeys hiding in the trees.

After a late lunch of pineapple, goiaba juice and coffee, the guide took him round the headland to a visit a deserted river beach and a dark, eerie lagoon hidden amongst the trees.

Finally, as the sun began to set, they headed further out onto the river near Ponte Verde where the guide informed Finn that several schools of pink dolphins lived. Almost as soon as they had turned the engine off, one jumped out of the water right next to them and Finn almost fell out of the boat. Within five minutes they seemed to be everywhere, leaping and playing with each other in the evening air. In shape, they were almost the same as regular ocean dolphins except for a less obvious dorsal fin. Indeed, the only real difference Finn could see was their striking colour: a bright, fleshy pink.

"Why do you have pink dolphins in the Amazon?" Finn asked the guide.

The guide thought for a moment, then replied, "The Indians believe that the God of the Ocean travelled up the Amazon river one day on a chariot led by dolphins. He saw a beautiful Indian girl bathing in the river and fell in love with her. To show his love, he turned two of his dolphins pink and gave them to her as a gift. She agreed to be his wife and became pregnant. Sadly, she died in child-birth, but their son survived. The God was upset and decided to return to the ocean, but left his son with the girl´s tribe instead. He left the two pink dolphins in the river so that when his son grew up, he could go to his father and take his place by his side."

"Wow," replied Finn. "So did the son grow up and go to the ocean?"

"I don´t know about that," said the guide. "But the pink dolphins are still here."

Alter do Chão

2006-01-16T14:43:00.000Z

By the third day on the boat, Finn was starting to go a little crazy, especially after the Captain had delayed their arrival by 1o hours getting beached on a sand bank for most of the previous day. Finally, the Amazon Star pulled into the sleepy fishing town of Santarém, just after midday. After a pizza and beer lunch, Finn decided to hop on a local bus to the nearby river-beach resort of Alter do Chão which had been recommended to him by a local on the boat.

The bus journey was cramped and uncomfortable, but this was more than made up for by the idyllic scene that awaited him when he eventually arrived. Alter do Chão lay on the banks of the deep- green Lagoa Verde separated from the Amazon only by an unfeasibly beautiful strip of golden sand, lush with palm trees and beach huts reaching out into the water. Beyond the peninsula stretched virgin rainforest climbing up onto a small mountain range, overlooking the whole area.

The village itself had a small square with several restaurants, shops and pousadas looking out onto the water, and he small harbour held several fishing boats and canoes ferrying passengers over to the beach peninsula.

After checking himself into one of the pousadas, Finn headed straight down to the dock and took a canoe ride over to the unseemly strip of perfect, white beach. He spent the afternoon lazing in a hammock drinking coconuts, and taking it in turns to swim in the warm waters of the Lagoa on one side and the Amazon on the other. He could have endured a whole week on the boat if he´d known he was going to end up in here.

The Shaman

2006-01-15T14:31:00.000Z

The next morning, Finn was woken by loud shouts and rapid movement. He looked up to see that the boat had docked at a small town and several large guys were quickly unloading goods onto trolleys and speeding them away.

Weaving amongst the hammocks on the boat, local vendors were selling all manner of snacks and handicrafts. Finn scored a decent breakfast of goiaba juice and a coconut flapjack to go with his bolinhos and went up to the top deck to eat.

Leaning over the railings to watch the unloading Finn saw the rastafarian Shaman from the night before. However, instead of his flamboyant gown of moons and stars, he was dressed in board shorts, basketball vest and pumps, his long dreads hidden under a bright, pink beanie hat.

"Bom dia," greeted Finn.

"Bom dia brother," replied the Shaman. "You have a good time last night?"

"Yeah," replied Finn. "I think everyone did. It was nice to be in such a warm, free group of people."

"Falou! Are you going all the way to Manaus?"

"Eventually. I´m going to visit Alter do Chão for a few days first."

"Legal! Alter do Chão é muito bonita!" exclaimed the Shaman.

"How about you guys?" asked Finn. "Heading on to Manaus?"

"Sim. We´ve got a community near Presidente Figuera, 200 kilometres North of Manaus. You should come and stay with us!"

"Really?" replied Finn, excitedly. "Yeah, that would be great. How do I find it?"

The Shaman reached into his pocket and pulled out a glossy business card and handed it to Finn.

It read 'WATERLILY JUNGLE LODGE' and bore the picture of 20 smiling travellers crouched in front of a modern looking wood structure. This wasn´t what Finn had expected.

"We do all kinds of tours, piranha fishing, boat trips, animal spotting...Normally trips are 150 reais per day, but seeing as you´re such a good singer, I can make it for 120. My mobile number is here at the bottom, just give me a call when you get to Manaus,"grinned the Shaman.

"Oh," replied Finn, disappointed. "I thought...I dunno...I thought you meant you lived in some kind of traditional community."

"What, like a caboclo?" asked the Shaman. "Hey, we can go and stay with the Indians if you like, anything you want!"

"No, not that," replied Finn. "I just thought you guys had your own community, living naturally in the forest...for free."

The Shaman burst into laughter. "Oh, I get it, you thought we were like some hippies living wild in the jungle. Sure man, that´s us, we live in the jungle, we sing and dance and have a great time, but the forest doesn´t pay for everything you know..."

"Right," replied Finn disheartened. "I guess money doesn´t grow on trees."

The River by Day; The River By Night

2006-01-14T13:42:00.000Z

By the next morning, the romance of a trip up the Amazon had all but evaporated in Finn´s mind. Between the flickering strip lighting, the leak above his hammock and the squirming old man bumping into him in the night, he had managed almost no sleep at all. Breakfast came as nothing of a reprieve either, an hour of queuing just to be handed some dry crackers and sweet coffee. Indeed, by 7.30am, he was ready to jump ship.

Fortunately, he managed to get some sleep during the rest of the morning and after a hearty lunch of meat, rice and beans, spent the afternoon enjoying the family photos of his travelling companions and watching the murky waters rush by. The river itself must have been about a kilometre in width here, but since they were travelling upstream, the boat travelled reasonably close to shore and Finn could see the dense, lush forest quite clearly.

At one point, they passed a small river settlement, and canoes filled with adolescent boys came paddling out towards the boat. A couple managed to attach themselves to the buffer tyres using long metal hooks and the boys scrambled aboard, selling bananas, bags of raisins and home-made cakes to the passengers. Finn bought some delicious deep-fried bolinhos de maracuja (passion-fruit donuts) in preparation for the next morning´s breakfast.

In the evening, he took a quick shower and decided to treat himself to a beer. Up on the top deck, he found there was something of a festa going on. Women and children danced around waving their arms in the air, while a small group in the corner beat out tribal rhythms on drums and bongoes.

Finn grabbed an ice-cold Skol from the bar and took a seat watching the intense gang of drummers. A group consisting mainly of young, hippy travellers in tie-dyed shirts and trousers were led by the chanting and singing of a huge rastafarian shaman, who stood amongst them dressed in a long robe covered with stars, crescent moons and mandalas, beating his gnarled staff on the deck. There was almost a hypnotic element to the rhythms, and Finn found himself staring intently. Suddenly he realised that he recognised the words of the song they were singing:

"Sing Hosanna! Sing Hosanna! Sing Hosanna to the King of Kings!"

Finn smiled and began to join in. One of the drummers caught his eye and smiled and Finn walked over to join them in chorus. Standing there singing with this group of strangers, he felt a strong sense of unity and happiness and he realised for the first time that it was not the meaning of the words that had significance, but that the real beauty and power of the hymn came from singing it together.

The Amazon Star

2006-01-13T13:13:00.000Z

Although the Amazon Star wasn´t due to leave port until 4pm, Finn had been advised that it was best to board early to secure a good spot for sleeping, away from the noisy engine. Packing up his belongings, he made the long walk down to the docks, only to discover the queue already spilling out onto the street.

After waiting patiently for a good two hours, he finally boarded the boat and was pointed downstairs. Struggling down the steep stairs with his heavy bag, he found himself in an insane mess of people and activity. There must have been around 200 brightly coloured hammocks strung up alongside each other with no room to spare. Screaming children ran around his feet as he bumped and apologised his way along the gangway searching for a spot. All ages of people were crammed in here, from mothers with tiny new-born babies to a blind old lady being led around by a heavily muscled Indian.

Finally, he spotted a space and began to climb over the piles of bags and boxes to set about tying his hammock up. Suddenly he was surrounded by friendly Brazilians offering him help, cakes, bananas, coke and in no time at all he was kicking back in his hammock watching the dock workers load the ship´s cargo. Hundreds of cases of tinned food, supplies and toiletries were slid from trucks into the hold, to be taken up river to Manaus and Santarém. The most amusing of which were the huge sacks of flour, which covered everyone and everything nearby in fine white dust.

Eventually, everything was fully loaded and the boat was ready to leave. The captain let loose with three loud blasts on the horn and the engines rumbled into motion. Finn jumped out of his hammock and made his way to the front of the boat. As the docks slipped away, the wind rushing through his hair, he felt a surge of excitement. He was free and yet at the same time, he felt a strong sense of purpose. Here he was, heading straight down the throat of the Mighty Amazon and into the belly of the unknown.

A Beer by the River

2006-01-12T15:22:00.000Z

As the sun dropped low over the river and handholding couples strolled past, Finn made his way along the Estação dos Docas between the great, yellow arches formed by restored docking machinery. Modern, expensive looking restaurants and bars spilled out onto the promenade, full of vivacious, smartly-dressed Brazilians and tourists. Behind, a guitarist softly singing João Gilberto floated past on a mechanical platform rolling effortlessly along its railings in the restored warehouse.

At the far end of the docks, Finn finally found the Cervejaria Amazonas brewery. He took a seat near the river, ordered a glass of Amazon Forest, freshly distilled from the river and stretched out to watch the sun set.

Suddenly, a hand tapped him on the shoulder. "Excuse me, do you speak English?" enquired a voice with a thick German accent.

Finn turned round to see an extremely elderly gentlemen sat on his own on the table behind him. Despite the age written in his face, he still maintained a shock of thick, white hair from which peered out pale, almost lifeless eyes.

"Yeah" replied Finn. "You´re from Germany right?"

"Actually, I´m Austrian," replied the old man. "But I´ve lived in Brazil for over 60 years now."

The waiter arrived with beer. Finn thanked him and took a quick gulp.

"Good?" asked the old man.

"Hmm," thought Finn. "Yeah, really light and crisp, but with good flavour. I like it."

"I can´t drink it, it gives me a bad stomach," said the man humourlessly.

"Right," said Finn.

"What do you think of Belém?" asked the man.

"I love it here. There´s so much life and energy. And being at the mouth of the Amazon gives it a buzz all on its own."

"Pah," scoffed the man. "You should try living here."

Finn was slightly taken aback. "Well, if you don´t like it, why don´t you leave?"

"I have my reasons," answered the man. "To think what a great city it could have been though."

"I´m not sure I understand what you mean," replied Finn, while trying to drink his beer as quickly as possible without appearing obvious.

"I came here as a scientist in 1940," said the man. "There are so many natural resources in Amazonia, so much potential. Its all going to waste now. If the Axis Powers had won the war, this place would be a clean, safe base for Amazonian Studies not full of degenerates, prostitutes and half-breeds."

"Right," said Finn. "I guess you´d also liquidate anyone without blonde hair and blue eyes too."

"Far from it, " snapped back the man. "We´d have them working for us as they should be."

This was too much for Finn and he got up to leave. "God knows how a racist like you has managed to survive in such a tolerant country as Brazil for 60 years, but I don´t have to listen to your rubbish."

"Ha!" called out the man, "You think Brazil isn´t racist? Who served your drinks tonight? Who lives in the favelas?" But Finn was already walking away in disbelief.

He quickly paid his bill at the bar and began to walk back up towards his Hotel, angry and frustrated that such a pleasant day had been brought to such an ugly end. Moreover, the man´s last words that Brazil was racist were ringing in his ears. It almost felt like a personal insult.

The Brazilian´s were amongst the most racially tolerant people in the World. Not only was it enshrined in their constitution, but you only needed to walk along any street or beach in Brazil to see that it was a vast melting pot of colours and creeds all living harmoniously. And yet, he could not deny that the black population of Brazil was amongst the poorest and most destitute section of the country. Was Brazil, then, institutionally racist? This too seemed difficult to accept. How could a country be socially and culturally free, but institutionally racist?

The alcohol had gone to his head and as much as he struggled, he couldn´t find an answer. Drunk and confused, he fell into a restless slumber.

Belém: Gateway to the Amazon

2006-01-12T12:57:00.000Z

Finn awoke early the next day feeling refreshed and full of anticipation. Here he was, Belém: gateway to the mighty Amazon and he was eager to explore.

After a quick breakfast of misto (a toasted ham and cheese sandwich) and coffee, he wandered down towards the Cidade Velha, the oldest part of the city, weaving his way through jumbled markets and shops hawking everything from umbrellas to underpants. Eventually, he arrived at the Mercado Ver-o-Peso, a vast bustling street market along the banks of the vast river. The whole area was full of life, noise and activity; the air rich with the smells of spices, fruits and fish. He watched as a modern-day pirate carved up a man-sized fish with a rusty blade in the fish market, bought some fresh, sweet papaya from a fruit stall and examined the mystical amulets and trinkets sold by the jewellers.

Leaving the market, he made his way up the mango tree-lined boulevards towards the Praça Republica, a leafy, relaxing space in the centre of town containing the lavish Teatro da Paz and some extravagant colonial buildings, now housing the local Government. Here he found a clean, self-serve restaurant and helped himself to a delicious lunch of dourada (a kind of catfish), salad and rice.

After a brief afternoon nap to avoid the rains, Finn made the short walk out of the city centre to the Zoo Botanic gardens housing a wide collection of Amazonian flora and fauna. He couldn´t help but rush about excitedly like a kid at the fair. There were spider monkeys, electric eels, harpy eagles, crocodiles, boa constrictors. The zoo even had a large jaguar, amusingly reclined on its back like a kitten under a radiator; all four paws hanging heavily in the air.

It wasn´t until he came across the strange, sad-looking dugong, looking like an over-weight dolphin as it sat depressingly in its shallow moat, that he felt a pang of shame. These animals shouldn´t be here as exhibits, they should be out in the jungle or in the river; free, as he was. Still, he couldn´t deny the pleasure he got from seeing them here and with the exception of the melancholy dugong, at least they seemed well-kept and happy.

He contented himself with this thought as he made the walk back into town and then down to the docks where he bought his passage to Santarém for the following day ( a 3 day boat ride) and a hammock for the journey. Walking back along the river, he came across the modern renovated port warehouses of the Estação das Docas, housing several up-market restaurants and bars as well as the Cervejaria Amazonas brewery. It was time for a beer...

Prologue: A Brief Arrival

2006-01-11T14:58:00.000Z

"The rain is at 2 o´clock," says the taxi driver. "You walk. You get wet."

Finn looks at his watch:1.53. The skies are looking ominous. He reaches out a hand and catches a drop of rain. 'Fuck it,' he thinks. 'I´ve just spent 31 hours on a bus, I can afford to splash out on a taxi. I deserve a taxi.'

"Tudo bem," he says. "Sabé Hotel Fortaleza?"

"Claro!" smiles the taxi driver from under a bushy black moustache. Finn dumps his bag in the backseat and the taxi jerks out onto the highway.

As predicted, the skies open minutes later, beating down so hard on the windscreen that its difficult to see anything. The taxi driver squints and ducks erratically to see through the wipers. Finn just closes his eyes.

Hotel Fortaleza is, predictably, a dump. The stairs creak and moan as Finn follows a young, bare-chested boy up to the top floor. An open area sits at the top, bamboo chairs, old books and papers lie scattered over the polished wooden floor. Sat on one chair, a dark, old woman watches a blurry Brazilian telenovela on a battered TV screen.

"Dormitorio oito reais. Cuarto individual doce reais, " says the boy.

Only twelve for a single: great. "Cuarto individual," replies Finn.

The boy hands him a numbered key and points down the hall. As Finn takes it, he sees the boys eyes linger for a moment on the scaled, webbing that links his forefinger and thumb on his right-hand. He pulls it away quickly. "Its a skin thing," he says defensively.

The boy says nothing.

Finn finds the room easily. Inside, it is shabby and grey, separated from the next room only by a thin, plasterboard wall. The bed is narrow with a hard, dirty looking mattress, but it is a bed and that is all that matters right now. He strips off, and falls into what will be a long, long sleep.