Thursday 28 August 2014

About cruiseship passengers who join me

1- I think coming to the Amazon is your dream and it is a privilege to be part of it;
2- We do our best to maximise your time in contact with nature;
3- We do our best to let you learn about History;
4- We do our best to let you learn and observe wildlife;
5- We do our best to let you have safe food, safe drinks and everybody who is working for is happy about it.
6- We hugely apreciate your choice to travel with us and we shall honour it!
7- We are not the best, we are better than everybody else combined plus whoever will come into the industry in the next light year.
8- Check us on Trip Advisor, Cruise critic, Lonely planet, Footprint, Trip Wolf and any other media available.
















Wednesday 27 August 2014

Tuesday 19 August 2014

Robert Frost in Rainforest

TWO roads diverged in a yellow wood,
And sorry I could not travel both
And be one traveler, long I stood
And looked down one as far as I could
To where it bent in the undergrowth;       
 
Then took the other, as just as fair,
And having perhaps the better claim,
Because it was grassy and wanted wear;
Though as for that the passing there
Had worn them really about the same,        10
 
And both that morning equally lay
In leaves no step had trodden black.
Oh, I kept the first for another day!
Yet knowing how way leads on to way,
I doubted if I should ever come back.        15
 
I shall be telling this with a sigh
Somewhere ages and ages hence:
Two roads diverged in a wood, and I—
I took the one less traveled by,
And that has made all the difference.        20
 

Neruda on the Amazon River

Poema de Pablo Neruda llamado Phalacrocorax (“guanay”)


Un homenaje a estas aves guaneras, que mantuvieron y levantaron la economía peruana
durante la temprana república y a las que el Perú les debe tanto.


PHALACROCORAX (“guanay”)

Aves estercolarias de las islas, multiplicada voluntad del vuelo,
celeste magnitud, innumerable emigración del viento de la vida,
cuando vuestros cometas se deslizan, enarenando el cielo sigiloso
del callado Perú, vuela el eclipse.

Oh lento amor, salvaje primavera
que desarraiga su colmada copa y navega la nave de la especie
con un fluvial temblor de agua sagrada, desplazando su cielo caudaloso
hacia las islas rojas del estiércol.

Yo quiero sumergirme en vuestras alas, ir hacia el Sur durmiendo,
sostenido por toda la espesura temblorosa.
Ir en el río oscuro de las flechas, con una voz perdida.
Dividirme en la palpitación inseparable.
Después, lluvia del vuelo, las calcáreas islas abren su frío paraíso
donde cae la luna del plumaje, la tormenta enlutada de las plumas.

El hombre inclina entonces la cabeza ante el arrullo de las aves madres,
y escarba estiércol con las manos ciegas, que levantan las gradas una a una,
raspa la claridad del excremento, acumula las heces derramadas,
y se prosterna en medio de las islas de la fermentación,
como un esclavo, saludando las ácidas riberas
que coronan los pájaros ilustres.


Pablo Neruda
(citado en mail de Ignacio Garcia Godos)