Up the river without a ....

Up the river without a .... The Amazon is huge--initially we cannot see both shores at the same time. We see why it's called "the ocean river." The water is brown from the silt carried downstream. Captain Tim Roberts (our British second captain, as the first, a Norwegian first-named Dag, went home from Buenos Aires) has devised a better way to reach our next port, Belem, which will improve the visit. Originally, the ship was to be moored in the middle of the river, and passengers would have needed to take a 40-minute tender ride to shore followed by a 45-minute bus ride to reach the city. He has decided to wait for high tide in order to slide our ship over a sand bar and move up the tributary to Belem and anchor a mere 20-minute tender ride from the town dock. We cross the sand bar with just 6 feet to spare, and will have to leave 12 hours later at the next high tide. Belem is on the Guama river, which merges with the Amazon. In its prime this city of about a million residents was known as "the tropical Paris." (Paris appears to be the gold standard for comparisons in South America.) Belem's port area has modern buildings, food courts, and (a rarity) free, if balky, wifi. A large market along the water's edge, mercifully air-conditioned, sells vegetables, seafood, and meat as well as prepared foods. There's even a brewery selling Amazon Beer. We set out along the shore to find a mineral museum, shown on the map provided by our ship. We find the city's impressive cathedral, but no mineral museum. As we wander the uneven cobbled or tiled streets, we do find a fine arts museum, which has a current exhibit of contemporary paintings as well as regional art produced over the past centuries. The building itself is impressive with marble staircases and exquisite wooden floors on the second floor, striped with wide boards alternating dark and light woods--jacaranda and teak. Several art students welcome us in hesitant English, and guide us to the exhibits. The contemporary artwork shows talent and is far better than the garish paintings being sold to tourists. We wear special slippers to see the exhibit on the second floor, which features wooden furniture from several eras, all with caned seating and backs to be comfortable in the hot climate. Early portraits of "regular people," as opposed to the usual dignitaries, are outstanding. From the students we learn that the ship-provided maps are inaccurate, and the mineral museum will be too far away to visit. We spend some time walking through the busy town, dodging uneven pavement along its narrow streets and leaping over the deep chasms passing for drains when crossing at intersections. We share a Coke Zero in a local cantina--our second Coke of the trip--and it's refreshing indeed. We drink using a straw in the can, as one cannot trust the ice anywhere on shore, just as one cannot trust the water unless it's bottled. (By the way, we have not seen any Pepsi products in South America--not sure if Coke has monopolies, or if there's not enough business for two mega soft drink companies.) We arrive at the dock to catch the tender back to the ship, just missing a storm of heavy rain and lightning, part of the rainy season here. The next day we are in Santarem, a commercial city of about 200,000. Holland America has paid for a cargo ship to move so we can dock--no tender needed here. The agriculture giant Cargill has a large storage depot by the dock for soybeans, and we are told that the cargo ship will be unloading fertilizer for the cleared forest areas to the south, to be used to grow soybeans. Three-story wooden ships share the dock area, and each level is strung with hammocks provided by the passengers. It can take days to reach a town up- or down-river. The passengers transport their own belongings and meals, including the bedding. We learn that these trips can take five to six days each way. River travel is the best, and sometimes only, way to travel in this immense region. Just one road from Santarem leads to southern Brazil. Nearby is a national forest of 1,480,000 acres. Around the harbor, Santarem has many stands offering local handicrafts and souvenirs. Shellacked piranhas can be had for the equivalent of five dollars. Blowguns and darts are popular offerings as well. We board an ancient bus, windows open to the hot, moist air. We are transported to the downtown section along the seafront. Parts of a pedestrian walkway along the seaside are available for taking in the river view, but other parts are under repair. The Amazon water level is dropping, necessitating these changes because marshes are filling in between the walkway and the river. As we are in an area where the river is the major highway, easy access to the river is mandatory. We set out to walk to a historic church, one of the few tourist attractions, and cross narrow streets with even deeper gutters than in Belem. We count ourselves lucky that it's not rainy during this year's rainy season, but sympathize with those whose livelihoods will be affected without the expected moisture replenishment. Many stores are selling notebooks, as school will soon start now that summer is ending. We notice many stores selling fabrics, something rarely seen in the U.S. any more. After wandering the pocked streets and dodging few cars and many motorcycles, we find the church and its adjacent museum of sacred art, but they are closed and locked, even though it is Friday. The heat and humidity (about 96 Fahrenheit with 96% humidity) are as oppressive as they've been ever since Rio de Janeiro, and we soon gladly board the shuttle bus for the ride back to the ship. We could have taken a tour during our time in Santarem, but we canceled out because we didn't relish being in the rain forest for four to six hours in this inhospitable climate. We could have seen rubber harvested or gone fishing for piranhas, but instead rely on fellow passengers who did brave the wilds to report on their adventures. Their frazzled reports make us glad to have skipped the extended outdoor experiences, now with the added frisson of Zika. The next day our ship spends several hours visiting a native village of about 75 persons. A crowd of children in native dress are brought from all the nearby villages. They pose for photos with visitors and lead them around the village. We are expected to provide gifts of school supplies and/or cash for the children, who are not shy about asking for money for their services. Finally we reach Manaus, our westernmost stop on the Amazon, on February 28. We are now 880 miles of river from the Atlantic Ocean. We will stay here overnight. This is a bustling city with a population of about 2 million. Its free trade status has attracted companies that use cheap labor to assemble electronics and machinery, for example. The officially claimed unemployment rate is only 6%, but that is belied by the decay and poverty we observe (and smell!) on the streets. Manaus was once the center of the rubber trade, generating fabulous wealth for a few while bringing misery to their slaves. The rubber industry collapsed when rubber tree seeds were smuggled to Malaysia; since then the trees have been supplanted by artificial rubber. The city's attractive custom house, built during the rubber boom, was prefabricated in Europe, and its parts were assembled here. An elegant opera house, Teatro Amazona, opened in 1896, was constructed of lavish materials imported from, or fabricated in, Europe. We enjoy an excellent tour of this building, which would not be out of place in any major European city. Here in the distant outpost of Manaus, it is akin to seeing a spaceship. An added bonus: because the Amazon Philharmonic is rehearsing in the ornate five-tiered concert hall, we hear music by Mendelssohn in air-conditioned comfort. The symphony is comprised of Russian, Belgian and Brazilian musicians, we are told. Their average age might be around 35, contrasted with the white-haired symphonies in many U.S. cities. Our tour also takes us through parts of the city we cannot reach on foot, including slum areas with squatters' homes on stilts. We learn that in 2012 the city experienced massive flooding, while in 2010 there was an unprecedented drought. This year, too, is short on rainfall; the Amazon's depth is three meters less than normal. Our guide says the public schooling is minimal--only three to four hours of instruction per day for 170 days a year. Expensive private schools are far more rigorous. We pass a daunting moldering prison and imagine it is a fine deterrent to crime, notwithstanding the many warnings we are given about being wary of pickpockets. Although there is an impressive suspension bridge just east of the city, there are actually no roads between Manaus and the rest of Brazil. The bridge serves a few small towns, so they can reach Manaus without boats, but the road goes no farther south than these few towns. We are now retracing our path toward the Atlantic Ocean, 660 miles away as the crow flies. On March 1 we will be in Parintins for a preview of the Boi Bumba festival show. This will be out last stop in Brazil.