May 18, 2017

The two French women, michincha and marine, had decided to stay until Saturday. Since tzama, who michincha actually stayed here for, had to go to Quito, a trip to the cascada was planned. A waterfall in the selva. I had already seen photos of it before my trip. I could join in advance.
But first in the morning it rained, as it can rain in the selva. The rooster made a few kikierikiis early on, but then it was quiet, or rather, it rained. It feels great when it just pours down and you're lying in bed. At eight o'clock the rain was more or less over, but there was no one to make breakfast. So michincha took the initiative. She, who used to run a restaurant here in the selva, had no problem preparing a good breakfast. I washed up afterwards.
Then we got ready for the excursion and went down to the village. Michi informed Maria that no breakfast had been made.
After a while, when the white pickup truck had unloaded its boards, we sat down in the back and mase, one of tzama's sons, accompanied us. He was very happy about it, saying he had avoided work, he later said with a smile. Both men and women can work here, by the way, I noticed that on Monday already.
After some shopping in 16 de agosto, we went to a distillery that had been improvised from all sorts of materials somewhere in the selva. From there, we walked along a footpath that led along an edge. Somewhere there was a viewpoint where you could see down to the Rio Pastaza.
The cascada could still be reached on foot a little further, after a zigzag descent down this edge had been mastered.
I think I can say that not many tourists have ever visited this spot. At most those who spend some time at the shuar tawasap.
Wonderful! Fantastic! You can stand behind the waterfall and look through it like a curtain. Or stand under the falling water. It hits your skin hard.
The place there is damn humid, so I decided not to put on clothes there. With wet undershorts, I ran back through the selva, as colorful as a Swiss cheese. Not a fly, not a mosquito bothered me. A wonderful feeling. The boots were squelching with water. Back at the distillery, I put on new, dry clothes.
Back in the village of tawasap, michincha ordered a few bottles of beer and we drank. We also had lunch. Rice mixed with beets and turnips, salad and broccoli on top, and a plantain on the side. Michincha is very well known here. Many villagers were also in front of the tienda and they joked with each other.
After lunch, I felt like I could do a little more work. So I went to my apartment on the hill, put on my work pants, and got ready to return to the village. In between, I wrote a few WhatsApp messages on my freshly charged phone. I already found out yesterday that Vivienne was very good in her gymnastics, and now it said that she had made the CS-Cup qualification for Basel again with her class. I had to congratulate her quickly. I also wrote to Aline. But no one else, because I'm crazy about saving battery here in the jungle. I will probably go to Palora on Sunday and spend the whole day in the internet café to get my blog in order. That's why I'm writing everything down here in the tablet, so that I can just copy it when I have an internet connection. It's annoying that this Microsoft version now demands that I identify myself. Such shit. That's why I'm writing the texts down as memos now. After work, I washed myself in the village pool, including my entire body with shampoo. At some point, I will also have to wash my clothes. I don't think there is a washing machine in the whole village, they wash their clothes in the pool or at special basins, but exclusively by hand.

Afterwards, I went back to my dwelling on the hill (by then I was sweaty again), put on another pair of pants and my second undershirt, and went back to the village for dinner. Rice, chicken, and potatoes.
In the approaching darkness, I returned to the room on the hill and ... slept.
Sleeping in the selva is special. It's always noisy. But somehow the noises don't bother you. Whether it's the animals making themselves known loudly everywhere, or possibly the rain, or even the neighbor's generator behind the hill, about 300m away from here. It's peaceful nonetheless. Waking up also. Eventually, you don't hear the numerous roosters anymore, even the one who cries right in front of the hut. It's all very peaceful.