Eau De DEET: Ruff In Da Jungle

OK so. The Amazon was like, right there so we thought, fuck it. Let´s do it. Let´s buy a cheap flight on a light aircraft and risk our lives flying over the Andes, my entire body CLENCHED and praying to a God I do not believe in. Every tick and whurr and change in tempo of those flimsy little propellors and I´m in pieces. *GASP* OH MY GOD! The entire cabin is looking at me digging my nails into the arm rests. Some are laughing. Some are sympathetic. None of them seem to realise we are about to die.

And then we land in a field, which is infact the airport in Rurrenebaque, the jungle town of Northern Bolivia. Adjectives first. HOT. Loud. Humid. The air is tangibly thick like a soup spiked with insects. Every single person we see is dripping with sweat - locals included. We get on a boat with a crew of six amazing chaps and head up the backwaters into the Pampas. Immeditaly the stars of the show begin to emerge. Caimon! somneone shouts. Where? Did i miss it? asks Niv, one of our gang. Then we see another set of eyes, then another, they are everywhere these prehistoric lizards. Basking in the water, eyeing the boat with sidelong glances, as nonchalent as our guide Jiro.

Turtles stacked up like Russian dolls in descending size, capabari - giant guinee pigs - snuffling around the shoreline, having swimming lessons. They all freeze when the see the boat, peering at us like a giant Sylvanian family. The absolute star of the show is the Anaconda we see draped around a tree. And the piranhas which we catch using lumps of steak, whisking them out of the water, their jaws still gnashing. Not much meat on a piranha mind.

Two pink river dolphins join our fishing expidition - hugely diminshing our catch. They shyly play, never too close but beautiful and strong diving and dining on the piranhas. After three days of pampas exploration, watching the family of squirrel monkeys who live above the camp, we head to the rainforest. Cooler, louder, more exotic. The AMAZON....

We hike through the jungle towards the camp with our guide Luis and suddenly hear ´Ay ay ay!´ Swollen by the rain, the stream cutting off us and the camp is now a raging river. We have to strip down and wade with our bags aloft. I watch as Luis tries to hurl my rucksack over the water to a waiting man. Passports, novel, journal. I cover my eyes.

Wading through the rainforest in my undies. I never expected this.

Life in the rainforest is beautiful. Cacophony of crickets, bird calls which sound like electro samples. There is a tarantula in our camp who comes out at night to hunt so a torch is essential to see what is crawling over your feet. Luis picks up the biggest ant i have ever seen with his machete. If these bite you it´s ten hours of pain. I back slowly away. Spiders bigger than my hand, frogs the size of my finger nail with transparent skin. Butterflies like dinner plates.

Standing looking skywards beneath a MASSIVE tree and suddenly i hear a load buzzing. I run my fingers through my hair to discover i have been attacked by a swarm of biting flies who burrow down to your skull and eventually cut your hair off with their pincers. They are nestled, clinging on hard and im screaming. We manage to pull them all off me when Luis returns making a face. One has flown into his EAR. Oh the horror. Later that night he kills it with cigarette smoke.

I feel like I´m on Planet Earth and Attenborough is talking me through the incredible wildlife as we meander under the canopies. The jungle is MASSIVE.

NB. The Gallery of BITES: bedbugs, sandflies, mosquitos, ants. Bedbugs are the worst by a Bolivian country mile.

Foz Do Iguazu

Straddling Brazil and Argentina is a stretch of river. A massive one. Its waters pour over several giant steps of magma before tumbling thousands of feet into the ever deepening valley below. Like any natural wonder of the modern world, The Igauzu Falls have of course become a major tourist attraction - with all the trappings that entails. To view the whole lot takes two days - such is the velocity of the water.

The two countries are somewhat competitive about their ´ownership´ of the falls. ´Look what we have!´ shout the Brazilians on their side, while the Argentinians - boasting, as they do, the lions share of the banks, display their ownership via the efficacy of their viewing platforms - which dangle you over the edge of the falls so you feel the spray on your face.

Watch the water until you see a circular rainbow appear, the sun catching the endless fall of fine mist. Birds plunge in and out, to and from the rock face behind the colossal sheet of water. They drop away from the rock, falling towards the cauldron below before soaring upwards, in pairs, diving and swooping through the rainbow. It´s like watching a Disney film. Butterflies swirl idiotically close to the spray, some of them clipped unluckily by a droplet and being torn down by the force, others circle lazily, their wings getting wetter and wetter, their flight lower until they are taken by the water - or else perform some incredible feat and power out of the cavern.

The trees and vegetation are so absolutely green they almost hurt your eyes. Getting bathed in a constant fine mist must be the most luxury life for a plant.

Admiring another country from the top of a waterfall, you can see the tiny figures doing the same from across the river. We stand there feeling the spray, hearing the thunder for a very long time. I faze out the American tourists around me, ignore the shouts of the photographers desperate to sell you back your image. Dizzy with vertigo, watching the incessant tumble of the water, feeling the vital force.