For four days and three nights, I sacrificed modern conveniences for cold showers and candlelight in order to experience life in the Amazon Rainforest. To be fair, in the heat and humidity, cold showers were hardly a sacrifice. But I did have to sleep under a mosquito net and once woke up to the sound of a mouse (probably rat, but I prefer to think mouse) chewing through my friend Nora´s backpack. A few days of roughin´ it were more than worth the experience, though. 

I visited the Cuyabeno Reserve, part of the Amazon Rainforest in northeastern Ecuador. 

I searched for wildlife in knee-deep mud — and I saw six different species of monkeys, a 9-foot caiman, a 15-foot anaconda and dozens of beautiful birds. I held the world´s smallest frog in my hand, and I gazed up the world´s tallest tree. I fished for piranhas (and caught a catfish). I learned to make tortillas from a type of potato called yuca. I met a shaman, a sort-of South American witch doctor. I took siestas in hammocks. And I survived a swim at sunset in the caiman, anaconda, piranha, who knows what else-infested river.

The week had its exciting moments of wildlife spotting and its relaxing times of reflection. It was incredible to just “be” in the Amazon Rainforest. 

A snapshot of the Amazon Rainforest´s Cuyabeno Reserve:

On the surface, the Amazon Rainforest is a rippled reflection in the river.
Fine-tuned senses discover much more.

The sights of the jungle come with a patient and keen eye, able to look beyond the twisted mess of tree roots. Along the riverbanks, the branches are gnarled knots, mangled from the war for sunlight; trees that lost the battle lay toppled in the water´s current. In the canopy, monkeys prance across tree limbs in search of fruit. At least one 15-foot anaconda hides in the muddy marsh. Nightfall brings the red glow of caiman eyes.

The sounds of the jungle are easier to notice and provide clues for animal sightings. Birds sing squeaky melodies and frogs croak an echoing bass. Crickets and cicadas chirp and buzz a high-pitched soprano to complete the symphony.

To the touch, the Amazon is wet — rainy, slimy, humid, sweaty, muddy — wet. The world´s smallest frog, no bigger than a fingernail, leaves a slippery substance when hopping off your hand. Tree vines can feel mossy or full of spikes. The river´s bottom is all goo.

The taste of the jungle is fresh. Bananas are delicious in every local dish: breaded and fried, roasted, mashed or freshly peeled. Rice and beans substantiate every meal served with a side of steaming potato soup. Not a soul is left unsatisfied.

The smell of the jungle is au´natural. River water, pure air. And sweat. The pungent odor of sweat permeates damp, dingy, dirty, dirty, dirty clothes in full proof of an unforgettable week of adventure in the Amazon.