7.09am, Wednesday May 24, the Amazon ....sleepless night

Yellow and white butterflies flirted with our bongo (the native name for our boat), keeping pace with us, and a bright orange narrow-winged butterfly almost came inside. It may not be orchid season but there were trees with bright purple flowers and occasionally I spotted a red bromeliad. The trees were reflected perfectly in the water and palms rose one or two metres above the canopy.

Dinner this evening was rice, a salad with mayonnaise, two slices of cheese, and papaya. Best, our guides brought a bottle of white wine for us. I talked for a long time with Andreas, who told me about his experiences working in a hospital in Merida and about socialism in Germany. He says 'West' Germany always feels it has to prove that capitalism takes care of people so it has a good social network. The unemployed are paid, new mothers get three years off on 70% pay and must be taken back (hence women have a hard time getting contracts) and no one works in Berlin. Berlin is therefore cheap, home to artists and bohemians and provides two of everything: opera houses, national theatres, etc. The government, however, monitors people - their phone and internet usage for instance - and even arrested an academic researching leftist terrorist gangs that destroy rich people's property. But there are no guns.

In Venezuela, there are guns. Andreas says he's never seen anyting like the Merida emergency room. He says the government orders new equipment for the public hospitals but the doctors steal it for their private clinics and make their patients pay. He also provided a different story of the two-year medical degrees than the cynical J did. Andreas said people with this qualification are being sent to Indian villages and are better than no doctor at all, especially when much of the medical needs are simple, such as inoculations and nutrition advice. They are not undertaking surgery, Andreas said.

On the other hand, he spoke of being sent to interview people when he first arrived in Venezuela and spoke no Spanish. He was part of a research team that he had not much regard for and the researchers wanted him to hurry up. He thinks this is a crazy country, and violent. He doesn't get it. He mentioned little things like he can't figure out when 'let's meet at two' actually means let's meet at two. Only once in a while does it seem to mean this.

Last night I saw maybe half of the stars of the night sky - as compared to the one percent of stars I usually see. It was beautiful and amazing. I couldn't find Orion but I did find the Southern Cross. I told MS that the stars rivalled him for my attention. He, laughing, told me I say things no one else does. In his arms I watched shooting stars.

I didn't sleep much at all last night, though I know I did a little because I dreamed of a long-haired, thick-spectacled hunk of a man crawling into my hammock. One of its ropes split and I was guilty about breaking the hammock. I was too cold to sleep. In the boat, when I want to be watching the forest, I am so relaxed I fall asleep sitting up, but in the hammock, in the early hours of the morning, I am too tense to sleep, even though I want to more than anything.

This camp is even more rustic than in Canaima. No blankets or pillows, no electricity, a toilet in a grass hut that I don't know how to make flush, several sand-bottomed palm-roofed huts.



our camp