by Lisa Yee
I may have saved the day, but I couldn’t save my father from ending up in a full leg cast. So much for his dream of hiking though the Amazon rainforest! Dad and Mom had agreed to let me go to the rainforest with Zac, but decided it would be wisest for them to stay in Praia Tropical.
Out of habit, I reached for Ama’s compass, which I usually kept on a chain around my neck. It had been very special to her, and she had given it to me shortly before she passed away. I had worn it every day until just yesterday, when I surrendered it to the ocean in honor of my grandmother during the Queen of the Sea celebration. When I put my hand where the necklace had been, I felt a flood of warmth wrap around me. Because no matter where I was or what I was doing, Ama would always be with me in my heart.
I reopened my grandmother’s travel journal, eager to find out what amazing adventures she had experienced in Alaska.
I had no idea that a moose could be over seven feet tall! In a panic, I froze. It could have been the death of me. There he was, staring straight down at me—and there I was, all of five feet four inches. I slowly backed away to show him that I meant no harm. The moose either got bored with me or realized that a visitor from St. Louis wasn’t much of a threat—because for whatever reason, as I backed away, he turned around and silently disappeared into the woods.
Wow, I thought. That was a close one. I wondered what kinds of animals I’d encounter in the Amazon rainforest.
The sound of light snoring made me turn to Zac. He had fallen asleep with my camera in his hands. A photo of Paloma and Zac wearing snorkeling gear was on the display. He was probably dreaming about her.
I gently took the camera and scrolled through the rest of the photos. The shimmering blue water and the sugary white sand were beautiful, but what really took my breath away were the underwater shots of coral reefs, colorful sea life, and an old shipwreck on the ocean floor. I paused at my favorite photo: dozens of baby turtles hatching from their shells in the sand and waddling toward the sea.
My best friend, Abby, and a lot of my other fifth-grade classmates had written comments on my blog, saying that the turtle photo was their favorite shot, too. This is just the beginning, I had written back. Just wait until you see the pictures I plan to take in the Amazon rainforest. I’m going to post lots of photos of exotic jungle animals!
I couldn’t wait for my next adventure to begin.
hen Zac told me that Manaus was in the middle of the rainforest, I had imagined that we’d land in a clearing in the jungle. So picture my surprise when the plane broke through the clouds and I saw a city skyline. Manaus looked as big as St. Louis—maybe even bigger! I never would have guessed that there was a huge city in the middle of the Amazon rainforest.
After Zac and I gathered our bags, we waited on the curb outside the airport for our ride. Soon, a man in a battered green truck drove up and leapt out. By the way he and Zac greeted each other with wide smiles and a big hug, I knew the man must be Marcos Barros.
“Lea! Bem-vinda! Welcome to Manaus!” I instantly felt at home with Marcos as he headed toward me with his arms open. His tanned face was friendly and his brown eyes sparkled like he was ready to laugh. Marcos’s black hair was pulled back in a ponytail, and he wore a chocolate-brown seed necklace around his neck.
“That’s a beautiful necklace,” I told him. “Did you make it yourself?”
He touched the beads at his throat. “This was a gift from an indigenous rainforest tribe.” His eyes brightened as he reached around his neck to unclasp it. “I want you to have it.”
“Oh, no!” I protested. “I couldn’t. It’s yours!”
“A gift from me to you,” Marcos said. “Please, I insist. It would make me happy.”
Zac laughed. “Marcos is very persuasive,” he said. “You may as well just take it now. Otherwise, you’ll argue for hours—and end up with it anyway!”
“Thank you. Obrigada,” I said, blushing as Zac helped me put on the necklace. I liked the feel of the beads around my neck. They were the size of small marbles, and were smooth and soothing to the touch.
I climbed into the backseat and buckled my seat belt as Marcos loaded our suitcases into the back of the truck. I was eager to get on the road and head to the rainforest as soon as possible so that I could see some exotic animals. I wondered which animals I’d encounter first: maybe a jaguar or a caiman, and of course, monkeys. There were certain to be monkeys!
Abby had made me promise to take plenty of photos. She loves animals, just like me. Her mom is a veterinarian, and they have lots of pets and foster animals. One time, they fostered a miniature potbellied pig. He was so cute!
I gazed out the window as we left the airport and headed toward downtown Manaus. “Um, excuse me, Marcos, but how far is the rainforest from here?” I asked.
“It’s almost four hours to Santa Sofia,” Marcos replied.
Four hours! I wasn’t sure I could wait that long. But before I could worry about it, we passed by a beautiful building that took my breath away. Huge and majestic, it was painted pink with white pillars and had sweeping steps like something out of a fairy tale.
“Wow,” I said, pressing my hands against the window.
“That’s the Amazon Theater opera house. It’s one hundred and twenty years old,” Marcos said, pulling over the truck so I could get a better look.
I wished my parents were here. Dad’s a history professor and Mom’s an architect who restores historic buildings. I took out my camera, knowing they’d want to see this.
“I didn’t expect something like this in the middle of the rainforest,” I said as I focused my camera on the green-and-yellow tiled dome at the top of the grand theater.
“There’s lots of culture and art in Manaus,” Marcos explained. “It is the biggest city in the Amazon rainforest. Over two million people live here.”
Zac turned to me. “That’s more than six times the population of St. Louis!”
I raised my eyebrows in surprise.
Marcos grinned and pulled back onto the road. “Before we start the long drive to Santa Sofia, I’ve got someplace special to show you,” he said, glancing at me in the rearview mirror. “It’s one of my favorite places to take visitors. They just love it.”
“The coffee?” Zac asked. His eyes sparkled with amusement.
Marcos nodded and laughed. “Yes, the coffee. I know how much you love the coffee.”
I smiled awkwardly. Coffee? We were going to get coffee? Coffee is so gross—and sneaky, too! It smells delicious, but once I snuck a taste of my dad’s and it was so bitter that I spit it out. Didn’t Zac know I wasn’t old enough to drink coffee? Over the past week of our trip, I had been trying very hard to remind my brother that I wasn’t his baby sister anymore. Maybe I had overdone it!
Zac saw the look on my face and laughed. “Don’t worry, Lea. We won’t make you drink the coffee.”
I was still wondering about their inside joke when Marcos parked the truck near the river. Automatically, I grabbed my camera, and was glad that I had. Everywhere I looked was a photo waiting to happen. Huge, fresh-caught fish lay on beds of ice, and the smell was, well…fishy! By the time we got to the dock, I had grown used to the smell, but I was still a little freaked out by all the fish lying there and staring at me.
“Oi!” Marcos called to a man in a small speedboat. The man greeted him and waved for us to join him.
“Hop in. This is for us!” Zac declared.
I looked at Zac, confused, and carefully climbed into the boat. We were going on a boat to get coffee? The river was huge and the opposite shore seemed miles away. Surely Zac and Marcos could find coffee on this side of the river.
Zac’s eyes lit up as he secured my life jacket. “Hold on to your camera, Lea,” he said. “We’re going to go fast.”
“Okay,” I said. My confusion quickly turned into excitement. Speeding on the river to a mysterious destination? I was up for that!
We pushed back from the dock and motored slowly to the middle
of the river. Then we took off. The wind whipped through my hair as I watched the shore and the city get farther and farther away, and then vrooom! Suddenly we were cutting through the water so fast that I had to grip Zac’s arm for support.
“Yippee!” he yelled like a cowboy, waving to the bigger tourist boats as we sped past.
“Look!” Marcos yelled over the roar of the boat’s engine. He pointed straight ahead.
I peered over the bow of the boat. Ahead of us, it looked like the river was split in two: The left half was dark black and the right half was creamy brown. I couldn’t believe my eyes!
As the speedboat slowed to a stop, Marcos explained, “This is where the Rio Negro and the Solimões River converge. It’s called the Meeting of the Waters.”
“Like Mom and Dad’s coffee,” Zac said, sweeping his arm across the scene like a model showing off the prizes on a game show.
I laughed. Now I understood. My father always insists on strong, black coffee. But Mom adds so much cream to her mug that Dad always jokes, “Would you like some coffee with your cream?”
“How far do the rivers stay separate like this?” I asked Marcos.
“For miles,” he said. “But eventually, the rivers merge and blend.” He reached over the side of the boat and swirled his hand in the water. “Go ahead,” he urged. “Feel the water.”
Cautiously, I dipped my hand into the water and moved it around. I could totally feel the difference. The black water was cold and the brown water was warm.
I broke into a grin. “This is so weird—I love it!”
I sat back and started taking photos and a short video for my blog. What a great way to start my Amazon adventure!
couldn’t wait to get to the rainforest. Marcos put the truck in gear, and as we began our four-hour journey, I had my camera ready. I was tired and wished I had slept more on the plane, like Zac, but now I was too excited to sleep. After all, I hadn’t traveled halfway around the world to take a nap! I wanted to see the animals—wild, exotic animals!—and I wasn’t about to let anything stop me. But before I knew it, the hum of the truck’s engine and the warm breeze from the open window began to lull me to sleep. I fought to keep my eyes open, determined not to miss anything.
I awoke with a start and rubbed my eyes. How long had I been asleep? On both sides of the truck, thick bushes and trees brushed past. It looked like I was in another world. I sat straight up when it hit me. The rainforest! We were driving through the thick of the rainforest.
“Why didn’t you wake me?” I asked Zac.
“You needed to sleep, Lea,” he said, turning to look at me. “You’re here for a week. You’ve got plenty of time to see the rainforest.”
But I didn’t want to waste one minute. I held my camera up, ready for my first photo of a wild animal. I hoped it would be a jaguar. I craned my neck, eager to take in my surroundings. Even though it was early February, everything was so lush and green here—unlike back home in St. Louis, where the tree branches were bare and snow blanketed the ground.
The bumpy dirt road had very little traffic. After forty-five minutes, we had passed one car with music blasting out of its open windows, a van with a mattress strapped to the top of it, and a teenage girl riding a brown horse. I took her photo for my blog. But aside from the horse, I didn’t see a single animal—not even a bird!
My stomach rumbled louder than the truck’s engine.
“Hungry?” Marcos asked.
“Maybe a little,” I admitted sheepishly.
“A little?” Zac joked. “That growl was so loud, I’m sure Mom and Dad could hear it all the way in Praia Tropical!”
I ignored him.
“Olivia is preparing a meal for us at home,” Marcos said, “but we can stop for a snack.”
I wondered where we’d go. There certainly weren’t any restaurants or fast-food places that I could see. Marcos pulled the truck over next to a group of palm trees and we all got out. It felt good to stretch my legs. There was a cooler in the back of the truck, and Marcos pulled out a bottle of papaya juice for each of us.
“How about some really fresh food?” Marcos asked. It looked like he was suppressing a smile.
I looked around for a mango tree, or maybe we’d have those little bananas that I’d enjoyed in Praia Tropical. Instead, Marcos built a circle of small rocks and gathered some dry moss to place in the center. Then he picked some small brown nuts off a nearby tree and laid them on a huge, waxy leaf that was wider and longer than a football. He reached into his pocket and took out a stone. I watched as he struck his knife against it with lightning precision, starting a fire in the moss.
Roasted nuts! I thought to myself. This would be a treat. During the winter holidays in St. Louis, we sometimes had roasted chestnuts. I wondered if these would taste the same.
Ama had written in her travel journal that she always enjoyed trying the local dishes of each place she visited. It’s my chance to try something different, she wrote, and maybe even discover a new favorite food! Over the past week in Praia Tropical, I had tasted a delicious seafood stew called moqueca, lots of scrumptious pastries, and exotic fruits I’d never seen before—and loved them. Maybe whatever Marcos had in store would be my new favorite!
Marcos sliced open the nuts and laid them face-up on the leaf over the fire. Something was squirming inside! I made a face and waited for him to notice that these nuts were bad. Clearly, he’d have to go back and pick new nuts—ones that didn’t have worms in them.
I looked on, horrified, as Marcos scooped the fat, white, wormy-looking things from the nutshells and skewered them on a stick.
“Wh-what are those?” I asked, my voice cracking with disbelief.
“They’re grubs,” Zac said matter-of-factly. “You know, larvae. Baby insects.”
“You don’t expect me to eat live worms, do you?” I asked, taking a step back.
Marcos laughed and shook his head. “Of course not—I’m going to cook them first.” Then he did the unthinkable—he roasted them over the flames.
After about a minute, he inspected the grubs and pulled one off the skewer. “Here, Lea,” he said, offering one to me. “It’s saboroso—very tasty! Enjoy it while it’s hot!”
My eyes grew big. There was no way I was going to eat a worm!
“Go ahead, Lea,” Zac goaded me. “Eat it. You’re not scared, are you?”
I bristled. I’d show Zac that I wasn’t afraid! In Praia Tropical I had promised myself that I wouldn’t be scared to test myself and try new things. That was something I had learned from Ama.
I couldn’t let my fears stop me now.
Marcos and Zac were waiting for me.
My throat constricted as I took a grub from Marcos, who was munching on a handful of them. The plump white larva had turned toasty brown over the fire, and it was still hot. I took a deep breath. Determined, I stared straight at Zac, popped the grub into my mouth, shut my eyes, and chewed.
Don’t spit it out, don’t spit it out, I said to myself. Don’t. Spit. It. Out.
It was nutty and meaty and almost tasty—but I was still totally grossed out. I tried not to gag.
Finally, I swallowed the grub and looked triumphantly at Zac. “Okay, your turn,” I dared him. I reached for my papaya juice and finished the bottle.
“Are you kidding?” my brother said. “There’s no way I’d eat one of those! Lea, you’re either really crazy or really brave.”
Marcos grinned. “I’d say she’s really brave,” he said. “Even braver than you, Zac!”
“You’re right,” my brother said, giving me a wink.
“Here, Lea.” Marcos offered me the stick with a couple of roasted grubs on it. “You want to finish these?”
“Um, no thanks, I’m full,” I said. I still couldn’t believe what I had just done.
I took out my camera and photographed the remaining grubs. This would really shock my classmates! As gross as it was, I couldn’t wait to blog about it. One kid from my class, Dax, us
ed to tease me and call me a scaredy-cat—all because when we went on a field trip to a dairy farm in third grade, I had been afraid to milk a cow. I’d like to see him call me a scaredy-cat now!
fter another hour of driving, we veered off the dirt road and onto a paved, double-lane street. Zac let me know that we weren’t far from the Barros family’s home. Santa Sofia, he told me, was the last town accessible by road in this area of the rainforest.
As we paused at a stoplight, I recognized the lively main street from photos that my brother had e-mailed to us when he first arrived. A grocer was piling watermelons into a wooden cart, shopkeepers motioned customers inside their stores as music blasted onto the streets, and shaded restaurant patios were packed with diners. Every now and then, Marcos honked his horn and someone would wave to us.
We turned down a bumpy road that ran along the river, passing colorful houses set near the water’s edge. Some were on stilts, while others actually floated on the water. At last, the truck ground to a stop in front of a stilted wooden house painted a cheerful yellow. Chickens milled about in the huge yard, and the trees were dotted with fragrant white flowers. I glimpsed a trio of toucans perched on a branch and snapped their photo. Finally, some real wildlife!
A tall woman with a friendly smile raced outside to meet us. She was wearing her hair in twin braids. I admired her colorful cotton dress. It reminded me of the one Camila had given me when we said good-bye.
The woman hugged Zac, and then turned to me. “Lea,” she said, giving me a warm embrace. “I am Olivia, Zac’s host mother. Zac has told us so many wonderful things about you!”