Green River

Something feels wrong as I'm walking down the road to the port. I missing something. Where's Skullface? I return to my hotel room, but he's not there. Oh, shit. The last time I explicitly remember seeing him was on the horse and cart yesterday. I don't have time to screw around, so reluctantly continue to the port.

The scene at the port is much as it was yesterday, but today, it's my boat being loaded. I spot another backpacker. Backpackers are easy to spot on account of our wild and unkempt hair styles that wouldn't do in polite society. He is Vincent, a Belgian, and is here on exactly the same principle that I am. I ask him to watch my gear whilst I run back into town to try to find Skullface. I fail. It's a public holiday, so the restaurant I think he may be in is shut. I do find a young French lady, Delphine, who's also taking the Aquidaban upriver.

The Aquidaban is a wooden boat of about fifty metres by ten metres. The foredeck is about ten or fifteen of those fifty, and is packed with cargo from bags upon bags of rice to motorbikes. The remainder of the length is a two level structure. The ground deck has two thin, maybe two foot wide paths on either side. It smells like a market on account of the cargo of fruit, vegetables and spices, as well as miscellaneous odds and ends that run down the centre. On the outside of the path, a bench runs the length of the boat. As I try to pass through the thin corridor, the benches and any other free space are densely packed Paraguayan families. On the top deck, there's a wide central corridor, with a beam from which several hammocks have been set up and are occupied. Flanking the corridor are the eight dormitory style rooms. My room is about six feet wide, with fours beds arranged as bunks eitherside of a space that's just enough for one person to squeeze between. The bunk is perfectly adequate for sleep, but that's all this room is good for.

Photo: Globevision

Vincent and I head down to the main deck and meet Delphine, who introduces me to fellow compatriot. Nicholas is travelling with Delphine and is a reassuringly well spoken Englishman of some forty years. The entertainment Nicholas thought to bring was a chessboard. Vincent is keen on a game, and I'm happy to start passing the time. As we setup the small plastic board on the deck and start recalling how to play, acrowd of curious locals form a circle of kibitzers around us.

The views off the foredeck of the wide river, forest and sunset are very agreeable.