The Beni: Adventures (4 of 7)

Before I get down to business, just a couple of quick asides. First, if you´re just tuning in, I would reccommend starting with Beni post 1 and working up, if you have the time and patience, it´ll make a lot more sense. Second, for those that have stuck with it, thanks. Third, for those of you that have Facebook, I have been able to post 4 photos Toa took from the field in a new album. For those that don´t, I´ll keep trying to get them up here as well, I´ve been having some trouble with importing photos lately Lastly, I am heading back into the field tomorrow for a couple of weeks or so, I´ll be back out mid-November. Once I´m out, I´ll post the complete Beastie Report, Bird, and Wrap-Up posts before I start my Bolivian wandering. Now, lets get to work...

ADVENTURES

Guayaquíl

Every Sunday, the cowboys from all the ranches in the area get together for a day of relaxing and a very spirited soccer game at Guayaquíl, the central hub and ranch. It is a two to three hour ride, and we usually do it at night by moonlight. It´s a lot cooler at night, and night rides are always fun. The boss, Scander, splits into a broad grin when as he sees us pulling in, and instantly begins feeding us. The central ranch has an entire cooking staff, and makes up some of the best food I´ve had here. Scander´s motto is ¨just a little more¨, and he is an expert at sneaking a little more food onto your plate when you aren´t looking. We then curl up in the myriad hammocks that crisscross the bedrooms, and sleep like rocks (sometimes past 6:30, a rare feat for me recently).

First thing in the morning, everyone strolls out to the airstrip, and makshift goals made of dead palm trunks are dragged out and pounded into place. The teams greet each other, shake hands, and instantly start talking good-natured trash. My team is the Betania/San Pedro/Guantanamo/Guayaquil team and our opposition is made up of Vaqueros from Poema/Carpa/Beya Flor/Uru Campenia. Everyone knows everyone else, and even though it is a ferocious and passionate game, it is all entirely friendly and one heck of a good time. I have become a popular asset for my team. This is not because I´m good at soccer (I suck, in fact), but instead function as a simultaneous good luck charm and excuse. If we lose, my team says its because we have the Gringo, and the other team says the same thing if we win.

After everyone is exhausted, we all go in to eat more. Now that I think about it, I guess we probably spend more time eating than playing soccer on an average Sunday. In any case, the rest of the day is spent sleeping, snoring, drooling, chatting, lazing around, joking, and every possible combination of these activities. Unrelentingly lazy days, and I love every second of it. I have also had some great conversations and met some awesome people at Guayaquíl, the arts of friendly idle banter and philosophizing about life in general are alive and well in the Beni. Once the sun starts edging towards the horizon, everyone saddles up, dishes out some last-minute off-colored humor, says goodbye and wanders off towards their prospective ranches. By far the laziest and most relaxing of my regular adventures.

Guantanamo

This ranch is run by one of my favorite vaqueros and his family, an extremly mischevious and merry man known only as ¨El Gato¨ (The Cat). Gato has a fleet of offspring, a warm and pleasant Brazillian wife called Negra, and finds humor in nearly everything. His oldest two sons, Faran and Jonah are regularly passing through Betania alongside Gato himself, and Faran in particular is fascinated by my Bionculars. He calls them my Long-Views, and looks at everything he can find with them.

Guantanamo is the sister ranch of Betania, and is situated between two shallow lakes, about an hour´s ride from Betania. We have only made it out here twice on our days off, but Gato always asks us when we are coming through next. We always reply ¨Tomorrow¨, and this sends a peal of laughter through Gato. The major activity at Guantanamo is centered around the lakes, and is an occupation that I hold near and dear: fishing.

Our equipment is a spool of thick fishing line wrapped around a chunk of palm wood, and a few ancient fishhooks. These are preferrably baited with scraps from last night´s dinner, spun around to gather up some momentum, and then thrown in a lazy arc as far out into the lake as possible. Since we don´t have a dock, a massive Suho tree that blew down at the lakes edge and reaches far out into the water makes an ideal perch. The lake itself is shallow enough to walk across, but this is unadvisable, considering what sorts of things live in its mocha colored water. In fact, it is a lot like playing ¨Lava Monster¨ on the Monkey Bars as a kid, but for real. People fall in every so often (knee deep), and nothing happens, but any prolonged time in the water is a really stupid idea. This is because our most common catch is Pirhana, but there are plenty of other reasons not to take a dip.

Pirhanas are great fighters, as you would imagine, and the preferred tequnique is to yank on the line as hard as you can once you get a bite, and pull them in as fast as you can to minimize their chances of snipping the line with their legendary teeth. This creates a new problem if you succeed, namely that you have a blindly thrashing, snapping Pirhana tied to you that you have to deal with. My first Pirhana caught me by surprise as I fumbled for my camera, and gave me a souvenier bite on my left index finger, in an uncanny smiley-face design created by his bottom row and two main top teeth. I thought this was terribly fitting, nature has a very sarcastic sense of humor. They taste like trout more or less, a good lead in to my third and greatest adventure...

Mealtime

Vegetarians and generally squeamish people may be glad they didn´t read this...

My decision to incorporate meat back into my diet over the summer to prepare my DI tract for this trip was uncharacteristically wise of me. There is no escaping meat here I am afraid, as it is one of the only foods that is available without being flown in, and when we start running low on our staples of beans and rice, most of our calories come by necessity from meat. The reality of the situation is that if you don´t eat meat here, you plain just don´t eat. I am looking forward to my return to Vegetarinism, but I have adjusted and am enjoying my brief relapse into a meat-based diet.

The adventerous part of mealtime comes with the game I briefly mentioned yesterday, wherin the cowboys prepare a delicious, seemingly benign meal, watch with barely-concealed enthusiasm and amusement as I happily tuck in, and, as I swallow my last bite, then erupt in howls of laughter as they gleefully tell me what I just ate. This unnerved me a bit at first, but I am not really squeamish and its gotten pretty hard to freak me out. At times they seem to forget that I have formal Biological training and therefore a basic understanding of anatomy, such as when I was told the plate placed in front of me one night was ¨steak¨, when it was actually a circular, tube-like muscle (of which there are only a handful in a mammal, use your imagination). To be fair, I have enjoyed everything they have prepared, and I just don´t dwell too deeply on what it is. My expanded palate now includes, but is not limited to the following: Armadillo (a lot like lean pork), Pirhana, Capybara, Caimen (like a cross between fish and chicken, wierd), and nearly every part of the cow that exists, including tounge, heart, liver, udder, ¨the other toungue¨, hoof, cheek, eyes, and a wide variety of circular muscles and organs intended for reprocuction or digestion. Those who find this barbaric and a bit nauseating (like me) can take comfort in the fact that all parts are well cooked, and usually unrecognizable. It is also morbidly gratifying to see that absolutely nothing goes to waste, they really do use everything but the Moo.

The final part of this adventure is the fact that as a member of the ranch, I am expected to help with either the cooking, or the capture and submission of our evening meal. Anyone familiar with my cooking skills knows what tradjedy would occur if that task fell to me, so I am a part of the capture team. My requests to not eat wildlife for their sake have been respected after the first couple of weeks, but the so-called domestic animals are usually harder to catch than wild game. The basic tequnique involves a frantic pursuit, herding, and tackling of whatever unlucky pig, chicken, or cow has been targeted. Once tackled, the others in the chase tie up or subdue the livestock, while the tackle-or holds on for dear life. Thrilling in a very primal sort of way, but is still profoundly sad for me every time to watch the animal´s life slowly fade away. The cowboys don´t believe me when I tell them that many people in the United States have never been there for the death and butchering of their food, it seems as much a part of life as eating the animal to them. At any rate, I have gotten very good at tackling pigs and chickens, but I´m still working out the bugs in my cow-tackling tequnique.

***************************************************

Well, thats basically it for now. Look for the next post on November 16th, its been fun guys. Thanks for tuning in, I look forward to the next time I´ll be hearing from you all. Untill then, Amigos...

-Chris

Santa Ana

Yacuma Province, Beni Department

Bolivia