Friday, December 15, 2006
14-15 December Iquitos. City of intense contrast.
Iquitos is amazing (there's that word again). A huge past wealth from rubber now faded and decaying. Although the wealth of Iquitos is in the past, no-where in Peru is the dycotomy between the haves and the have-nots so obviously demonstrated. Back in the late 1800's and until WW1 the rubber baron's wealth was legendary. There are many lavish buildings across the old town, up to 3 stories tall in Spanish Victorian style with incredible timber interiors of mahogany, cedar, rosewood - doors, stairwells, ceilings, parquetry floors, furniture...clad in intricately hand painted italian ceremic tiles. Each level has it's own themed tiles. All designed for the tropics with interior courtyards, high ceilings, breezeways above the doors and huge french doors out on to balconies. These buildings are now in majority occupied by government departments, with little or no maintenance. The exterior tiles and shutters are cracked and broken, glass is missing, interiors are missing much of their furnishings, single light bulbs swing forlornly from once chanderliered ceilings. Weeds grow in the courtyards.
Along the Malecon, or boulevarde, at some stage, modern money has been spent to pave the footpath, cement the road, make car parks, landscape garden beds. Tying together these colonial buildings with the Amazon sitting quietly, waiting, below. But all this has cracked and died. Walking along at dusk, with the pink sunset colouring the water, and softening the light and heat; half close your eyes and you can almost imagine the past lifestyles and opulant wealth.
Then look down below between the boulevarde and river, culminating about 2km downstream and you see the floating slums of Belen. 70,000 people living in houses floating on the river. Before the water rises each wet season the huts sit in the hot, stinking, poluted mud. A food market flourishes in the seasonal streets between the houses. Concrete and hardwood planks have been laid in the mud to provide some permanence for the inhabitants. The cements cleaned off after each wet, redefining the dry season Belen boundaries.
They sell everything here. And move it all to high water mark as the river rises. It is so big I struggle to fathom where all this mess goes when the river reclaims acres of mudflats. I saw turtle meat (legs with claws attached, necks with heads attached) alongside chickens (alive and portioned), all manner of river fish, pigs . As always lots of fruit and veges of varying qualities. A whole street dedicated to banana trading. A street of chillis, spices and all combinations thereof. A street of tobacco -rough cut and rolled into fat, course cigarettes and cigars. Sold as 1's or in bundles wrapped in newspaper. Smelling the burning tobacco reminded me of a combination of cigar and marajuana. A very strong, unfiltered cigarette.
The houses rise above the market on tall thin stumps waiting for the water to rise. The stumps of these anchored dwellings are at least 2 stories high. When the wet comes, the water washes all the rubbish away and cleanses the mud. And the rest of the housesfloat up to meet the high water level and life goes on at this wet sesaon level.
Families live in one room floating huts with thatched roofs. Mum, dad and at least 5 kids plus grandma or grandad. And a couple of chooks. The river is used for everything. They swim in it to cool off. They wash themselves and their clothes in it. Drink the water and cook with the water. All the animal and human waste goes straight in; as does the rubbish. And yet, they catch commercial quantities of fish here daily and dolphins are often seen...right in all this...
I went for a canoe ride around this floating river city. Which I have heard called the jungle Venice... mmm... hardly my impression. The only saving grace is that it is warm here. But whole new thoughts enter my head. When it is cold you have to find money for clothes; when it is hot you grow whole new tropical diseases and how to keep food fresh?...
Iquitos is amazing (there's that word again). A huge past wealth from rubber now faded and decaying. Although the wealth of Iquitos is in the past, no-where in Peru is the dycotomy between the haves and the have-nots so obviously demonstrated. Back in the late 1800's and until WW1 the rubber baron's wealth was legendary. There are many lavish buildings across the old town, up to 3 stories tall in Spanish Victorian style with incredible timber interiors of mahogany, cedar, rosewood - doors, stairwells, ceilings, parquetry floors, furniture...clad in intricately hand painted italian ceremic tiles. Each level has it's own themed tiles. All designed for the tropics with interior courtyards, high ceilings, breezeways above the doors and huge french doors out on to balconies. These buildings are now in majority occupied by government departments, with little or no maintenance. The exterior tiles and shutters are cracked and broken, glass is missing, interiors are missing much of their furnishings, single light bulbs swing forlornly from once chanderliered ceilings. Weeds grow in the courtyards.
Along the Malecon, or boulevarde, at some stage, modern money has been spent to pave the footpath, cement the road, make car parks, landscape garden beds. Tying together these colonial buildings with the Amazon sitting quietly, waiting, below. But all this has cracked and died. Walking along at dusk, with the pink sunset colouring the water, and softening the light and heat; half close your eyes and you can almost imagine the past lifestyles and opulant wealth.
Then look down below between the boulevarde and river, culminating about 2km downstream and you see the floating slums of Belen. 70,000 people living in houses floating on the river. Before the water rises each wet season the huts sit in the hot, stinking, poluted mud. A food market flourishes in the seasonal streets between the houses. Concrete and hardwood planks have been laid in the mud to provide some permanence for the inhabitants. The cements cleaned off after each wet, redefining the dry season Belen boundaries.
They sell everything here. And move it all to high water mark as the river rises. It is so big I struggle to fathom where all this mess goes when the river reclaims acres of mudflats. I saw turtle meat (legs with claws attached, necks with heads attached) alongside chickens (alive and portioned), all manner of river fish, pigs . As always lots of fruit and veges of varying qualities. A whole street dedicated to banana trading. A street of chillis, spices and all combinations thereof. A street of tobacco -rough cut and rolled into fat, course cigarettes and cigars. Sold as 1's or in bundles wrapped in newspaper. Smelling the burning tobacco reminded me of a combination of cigar and marajuana. A very strong, unfiltered cigarette.
The houses rise above the market on tall thin stumps waiting for the water to rise. The stumps of these anchored dwellings are at least 2 stories high. When the wet comes, the water washes all the rubbish away and cleanses the mud. And the rest of the housesfloat up to meet the high water level and life goes on at this wet sesaon level.
Families live in one room floating huts with thatched roofs. Mum, dad and at least 5 kids plus grandma or grandad. And a couple of chooks. The river is used for everything. They swim in it to cool off. They wash themselves and their clothes in it. Drink the water and cook with the water. All the animal and human waste goes straight in; as does the rubbish. And yet, they catch commercial quantities of fish here daily and dolphins are often seen...right in all this...
I went for a canoe ride around this floating river city. Which I have heard called the jungle Venice... mmm... hardly my impression. The only saving grace is that it is warm here. But whole new thoughts enter my head. When it is cold you have to find money for clothes; when it is hot you grow whole new tropical diseases and how to keep food fresh?...
There is only so much poverty one girl can absorb. Iquitos' main square area and surrounds where the gringos see is like most centres...kept relatively clean, safe and maintained. Obviously the locals show up with all the standards of living to sell their wares and their are street kids and beggars. But you have to look very few streets further to see the real Peru. Back in the rubber days the barons had all the wealth and the Indians were virtual slaves. Today, the wealth is less obviously but the locals are still slaves - slaves to this all invading poverty. School is not seen as a solution. Kids work as soon as they can walk and talk. And I wonder about contraception being expensive and not used. I have been told it is provided free by the government. But they are staunch Catholics and I think that, tradition, lack of education, fear of no-one to support them in old age and needing hands for work, encourages parents to keep breeding.
It is also incredibly noisy here. I have noticed especially so, since leaving the jungle. The town square, the water front, the markets, on the river. The people fill it with noise, as if they are frightened of quiet. If there is no noise from industry, they pour music into it from loud speakers. And those bloody tuk tuks...
NOTE: Buses here are from the 1950'2 - VJ timber interiors with wooden bench seats. Flat front exterior with no aerodynamics. High floor level with big step up.
# posted by The Essence of Good Taste @ 11:50 AM 
