Remember how I said I was unimpressed with this place? (To put it very lightly.)
Well, all that has changed.
Everything I’m about to share below I wrote in a notebook while taking a break from reading “Man’s Search for Meaning” yesterday. (Highly recommend. May be cliche for a Jewish girl on a personal journey in South America to be completely engrossed in it, but hey, I had it on me and have to confess I had only skimmed it until last night.)
But enough about that. Here’s what I wrote last night…
I am so happy right now.
Sitting in a large, packed restaurant with bright fluorescent bulbs, red plastic tables and chairs, and photos of dishes along the walls and on the laminated menu. It has everything from pizza and burgers to Chinese noodles to local specialties like beef hearts. It looked a bit shady to me.
I say all this to say that it’s not the type of place that would usually make me giddy. With old engines roaring by in the background, a television blaring futbol, and constant visits from people trying to sell souvenirs or jungle tours, it was not my kind of place. But neither was Iquitos at first.
In the last couple of days though, I’ve started to fall for its charm. The bright colors of the mototaxis* and old colonial buildings, the well-worn feel of chipped paint and pockmarked streets, the warmth of people who, when you show kindness and humor, reflect it back and then some.
Even this place. It went from a greasy burger joint to a daily craving, serving tall glasses of pure, fresh acai and guarana superfood smoothies for about $3.50. And the food is gooood. I’m really coming to appreciate this place.
[I was interrupted and…]
Amazing.
As I wrote those words, a guy came up and started to say hello. Rather than ignoring, I responded briefly, smiled and started to go back to writing.
But he kept talking, asking me in English where I’m from. It has happened dozens of times since I’ve been here, and I usually try to wave them off quickly. But this time I cracked open the shell and spoke to him.
Turns out, he’s teaching himself English. He and his wife practice at home with movies and music (he loves “Hotel California”). He likes to practice with English speakers, and welcomed me working on my Spanish with him.
That’s where it really gets serendipitous.
- I’ve been wanting to learn more Spanish – even bought subtitled films yesterday. At the same time, I wanted someone to practice with who wouldn’t be shy about correcting me.
- I also got to talking with an old man today who started telling me about Iquitos’ fascinating history (en español, which I’m proud to say I understood – at least partially). It sparked a desire to learn more about this place, and I even began the search for a tour. The person he recommended does shamanic excursions not tours of the city, so it didn’t help much.
Back to the serendipity.
Without any prompting, Johnny, the guy I just started speaking with, offered to walk me around the city, showing me major streets and important sights, and practicing our respective languages. He suggested visiting a museum that covers all of the city’s history and culture, free of charge. He wasn’t pushy or inappropriate, and doesn’t work in tourism (seems like 90% of young-ish guys do). He works right here, at this restaurant.
Trust is an weird thing when you travel – especially in poor countries. It’s easy to get scammed by even the nicest people. (Sometimes especially by the nicest people.) Even your intuition can sometimes get clouded.
But I think that as a rule, it all works when you open yourself up to people you feel good about, and don’t risk more than what you can afford to lose. I just crystallized that, and I feel – know – that it’s a good rule.
That’s what I’ll do with Johnny.
In my mind, I’m treating him to a couple of meals, maybe a boat ride if we decide to go somewhere. I’ll gladly do it. We’re not talking loads of money, and he has good energy that will be nice to be around. 🙂
Ok, I’m content.
Back to my book now.
(Funny enough, I’m chilling out and reading it here, not at Karma Cafe around the corner where tourists and “spiritual” Westerners tend to go.
