The next morning, they released us int nature. Well… kind of. We still had our guide with us, because as I’ve already said, gringos don’ t have a very good survival rate in a place where everything, starting from the cute little caterpillars and working its way on to the larger jungle creatures, can do its fair share of damage. And I was glad the guide came along, mainly because my sense of direction has never been any good and was completely gone the moment I started walking, but also because he was full of interesting facts. For example, the tree in this picture is the kind of tree they use to make their canoes. My first thought when I heard that was, “What exactly do they cut it down with? Axes? And if so, how long does that take??” Before being chopped down in order to fulfill our transportation needs, it spends its days being useful in other ways. For example, the root section 
of the tree seems to be prime real estate for every spider ever created. You know that scene in Jurassic Park when they climb up the tree to spend the night – no way would that ever happen. I’ll take my chances with the overgrown reptiles, thankyouverymuch. And if the spiders weren’t enough to keep you awake, there were other, louder, beings occupying the branches.
Now, despite all the months I’ve spent here, there are still many times that I do not understand what is being said, and therefore I have become adept at picking out key words. On this hike, the word that never failed to get my attention was “toxico,” which, as you may have already deduced, means poisonous. For example, there was a time when my arm began to seriously sting after I accidentally brushed up against a plant, and a few seconds later our guide pointed to it and said “yaddayaddayadda toxico”, which roughly translated meant, “don’t touch that plant.” At first I figured it was just a poisonous plant (horrific visions of the Amazon’s version of poison ivy momentarily flitted through my brain), but it turns out that the stem of the plant is covered with this black substance that the ants just love, and so the stinging I felt was actually the ants telling me to get off their turf. One of those symbiotic relationships where the plant helps the ants and in return the ants protect the plant, which I thought was way more interesting than antisocial vegetation and also left me pondering the possibility of another Disney movie with mafia ants, or mafiants if you will, defending their part of town. But then the stinging in my arm brought me back to the present, and continued to wish he had let me know the thing was dangerous before I made contact with the very territorial ants.
He tended to be a little late with the toxico comments (the welt on Frank’s arm after the caterpillar incident is another example, although in that case he seemed to view the swelling as proof that he was telling the truth). 
However, there was one moment when he warned us well ahead of time that what we were dealing with was toxic. It was when we came across The Spider. I realize I have already provided photos of some very creepy arachnids. However, they all pale in comparison with Her. No, I don’t know for sure that it was female, but it gave off a very distinctive, very feminine kind of vibe. Our guide, after informing us that The Spider was very much part of the toxico family, he promptly stuck his machete into the middle of her home to try and scare her outside. I handled the situation very bravely. I believe my behavior included keeping only one foot on the ground at a time and hiding behind Frank, while trying to get a photo without actually getting anywhere near The 
Spider, convincedthat at any moment she would come racing out of her semi-demolished home, incensed about the roof repairs she would now have to make and looking to take out her aggression on the nearest living thing (hence my strategy of keeping Frank between Her and me). I should have known though, that this was no ordinary spider that would go running from something so trivial as a machete. After hardly a glance in our direction, She faced down the machete, and quite honestly, I would’ve given the fight fairly even odds. I was very relieved when we moved on.
Had I known what was in store for me next, however, I may have spent a 
little more time with the world’s toughest spider. I was following Frank and our guide, contentedly looking around at all the greenery, when our guide picked up what looked to me like a large, empty pecan (as Frank is so kindly demonstrating to the left). He explained that beetles lay their eggs inside the nut and then the grubs feed on it until they are grown. A little while later, he found one that still had the grubs inside. As you can see, they look like grubs you would find in the US. 
The difference is, we don’t eat the grubs we find in the US. In the jungle, this counts as a snack. As our guide told us this, I began to wonder if he was saying that just to see if we’d eat it. I didn’t seriously begin to question the validity of the information until he said that sometimes they roast them, and the rest of the time they just eat them raw. I was half laughing to myself while the thought, “Nice try buddy,” meandered through my head, until Frank popped one into his mouth and began to chew thoughtfully. He even stopped at one point so I could get photographic proof that he had eaten it, and then his gaze landed on the grub that I still held in my palm. At first, I thought that maybe he wanted to eat that one too, but then I noticed that it was leaning more towards the “your turn” type of look. Let me just say, I am fairly sure that he did not intend for me to take him looking at my grub as a challenge, but that is what happened. No way was I going to look like some 
city girl from the US who was too squeamish to eat a worm. Not sure why that is, since I would never expect anyone else to do such a thing, but at that moment, it was of the upmost importance that I proved I could hang with the big boys. And so, after pausing to have this picture taken, I dropped it into my mouth, chewed, and swallowed. And you know, it wasn’t that bad. It had a very pecan-like after taste to it. We took a few more grubs back with us to the campsite, some to be used as bait when the guys went fishing, and one that Frank salted, roasted, and split with me. If there comes a time in your life when you are forced to live on grubs, I highly recommend roasting them. It was actually pretty tasty. Still kind of felt like throwing up afterwards, but that was mainly because my mind was screaming “DON’T PUT THAT IN YOUR MOUTH!!” as the worm was on its way towards my face and then “THROW UP!!” as it was on its way down my esophagus. Still, that is just one more thing I can cross of my To Do list. I never, ever, have to eat another live worm. Glad I got that out of the way early on in life. I would hate to know that moment was still out there, waiting for me.
To my complete surprise, we were soon back at the canoe (I wasn’t kidding about my lack of navigational skills) and began the short trip back to camp, 
where lunch was proceeded by a short, but intense Hawk-off. The champion won a fishing trip for himself and a friend, while the loser got eaten for lunch. So, Vish and Frank set off with a couple guides to find a good spot to fish for piranhas, while the rest of us spent the afternoon relaxing, or in my case, chasing butterflies around trying to get the perfect picture. I’ve already sent out an email with a bunch of the shots I got, so I’ll just put a few of my favorites here.
It was while snapping photos of the winged beauties of the Amazon that I ran into Prince Charming. One of the guys who were working at the campsite showed it to me, and of all the reactions they were expecting, I think the 
last one on their list was for me to snatch it up. But how could I resist? Look how cute he is! He’s a tree frog, so I spent the next ten minutes completely entertained by touching the sticky pads on his toes, followed by another ten minutes where we all were entertained by sticking him on different walls.
Soon, the mighty fishermen returned. Because it was the rainy season, the water was too high for them to get to the other lake, and so they had had to return without catching any piranhas. However, that in no way implies that they had an uneventful trip. Along the way, they caught a small anaconda. Here’s a photo of Frank and the snake 
getting friendly. If you zoom in on the snakes head, you’ll notice something important. And to save you time, I’m going to go ahead and tell you what you’re looking for: that is one creepy looking snake. Don’t get me wrong, I’ve never had anything against snakes, but this one has dead eyes or something, and I’m not all that disappointed that I wasn’t there to take a turn holding on to it. I mean, it bit our guide, and that is one tough jungle man. If that snake was quick enough to get Klever, I wouldn’t have had a chance. Naturally, to avoid looking like a wimp I would have posed with it for a picture (with the added bonus of making my brother, Brian, incredibly jealous in the process), but I can’t say I really regret not being there for that experience.
Once they were back, we all packed up and headed out for the next campsite. It was raining for that trip back, which was fine with me since I knew I wouldn’t be seeing rain again for a long time once the trip was over.
The sun was just setting when we got to the last site, and with the way the sun hit the clouds, everything was tinged with gold. I sat alone for a while, just watching the raindrops hit the water below the dock, enjoying the stillness and the colors, knowing that this was a moment that I wanted to save in my mind. I watched a leaf gather rain, reflecting the golden light back to the sky, before falling to join the rest of the water below. When I finally did get up, it was to join the others to watch a rainbow fill the sky above the forest. As I stood there, leaning against Frank and watching the light slowly fade from the jungle, I remember feeling a very distinct level of contentment. Not bad for a third date, huh?
Coming up next is the Last Day and more unforgettable moments.
