Every morning at the lodge our wake up call was around 5:30. We had to get up early to see the animals. On our last morning, Rodrigo planned for us to visit a nearby clay lick by the Napo river where parrots and parakeets gathered in the early morning to ingest minerals that were necessary to their diet. He hurried us from breakfast so we wouldn't miss it, eager to make sure we'd be able to catch a glimpse.

When we arrived, the parrots were playing coy. They were standing up on a ridge above the lick or flying around, crying out to each other. Rodrigo told us they were waiting to make sure the coast was clear. I was reminded of the wildebeest in Africa, who patiently waited by the riverside to see if the river was safe to cross.

Eventually, one or two parrots took the plunge, exposing themselves on the bare cliffs. Many followed and soon there was a line of parrots taking in their minerals.

Rodrigo lent his binoculars and pointed to another line of birds that had alighted on the clay. It was a group of parakeets who had come to join the fray.

Afterwards, Rodrigo took us to a nearby village to visit it and to have lunch. It was where we had dropped off Selmira when we first arrived..

It was Sunday and so there were no students to be seen at the school; the empty desks were strewn about the room with materials scattered beneath them, as if the students had just been dismissed. The desks awaited their return.

Outside on a wall of the classroom, Rodrigo pointed out three common Spanish phrases that had been translated to the local indigenous language.

From the school, he walked us back to the main building, through the jungle, pointing out flora of interest.

As we sat to eat our lunch of Amazonian fare (chontacuro, river fish, local nuts) it began to rain. We sheltered in the main conference and dining hall and watched as the rain pelted down from above. Rodrigo grabbed a live chontacuro and ripped it in half, offering one to me. I took it and took some tentative bites. The inside tasted like a custard, the outer skin was slightly tough but had a solid texture that was not unpleasant. Cooked, they tasted a little like bacon.

I found Rodrigo in the kitchen eating a fish that had been prepared for him. He had been hiding, tucked away behind a dividing wall. He offered to share the fish with me and doled out some of the sauce he had been using on it. They were both delicious, reminding me of Vietnam, and of fish steamed in bamboo leaves dipped in nước chấm.

Rodrigo had started out as a chef, and as he saw how enthusiastic I was sharing his meal, offered to cook me dinner the next time I came to the Amazon. He'd bring me home and serve up a home-cooked meal. I enthusiastically agreed.

Back at the lodge I took a yoga class with Maria. The day had cleared a little and we set up in the gazebo at the end of the dock. As we went through our poses the skies darkened and the wind picked up. We were close to finishing and Maria asked if we should continue. I suggested we do one more pose, and was we worked through it the skies opened once again. We grabbed our things and ran back to the lodge, drenched from the hundred meter race.

It rained all afternoon, and we were wondering if Rodrigo would cancel our last jungle hike. When we met up at the appointed time, the American women were wearing flip flops. Rodrigo said we were going, holding up ponchos for us. They quickly left to put on their boots.

The jungle canopy kept us from the bulk of the rain; our ponchos did the rest. We made our way through the underbrush, marveling at the size of the trees and the leaves and how lush everything was.

At the end of the hike, Dario lead us to a canoe, and we paddled our way back to the lodge.

We made it back to the lodge as the skies cleared, rewarding us with a beautiful sunset. I went to bed early. Our wakeup call was again set for 5:30; it was a long way back up the river to Coca, and our flights were scheduled early in the morning. 🇪🇨