Caballococha

It was an unplanned visit and we ended up getting stuck in this rather strange but somehow likeable jungle town for far longer than expected, ok only by two nights but they were two rather strange nights. When we landed on the seaplane I fully had the impression that we had truly landed ourselves in the middle of nowhere. From the window of our small and very loud and flimsy plane all we could see was water and tree tops. We stepped off the plane and onto some sort of floating island style straw platform and loaded up our backpacks and got a motor-taxi into the town centre. Desperate for the toilet and somehow unreasonably exhausted I managed to talk my way into some local family's house and used their hole in the ground toilet bathroom affair. Back to Tanzanian standards then. From what I could see as I glanced by and gently smiled appreciatively, their living quarters were basic, it was rather frightening, and this was following the flooded, floating village of Belen. We were in a backwater, if Iquitos was cut off this was, I don't know what, just a small jungle town in the middle of nowhere that pretty  much felt like it existed for itself and itself alone.

Nothing much happened whilst we were in Caballococha apart from us trying to extract information from various locals about when the boat or more specifically which boat or boats, left for Santa Rosa or direct to Leticia. This was a constant change of information that left me utterly exhausted. Clearly there was no real timetable so to speak of and people just sat around and waited, found out by word of mouth. Seemingly no one in Caballococha ever had any sense of urgency, I'm not quite sure what sort of effect, say a train station complete with a clock and arrival and departure timetable would have on the residents of Caballococha. A total meltdown. Every time we asked they would argue over when the boat normally came and whether it would be coming at that time tomorrow. Not the most useful piece of advice, but seriously in a town this small where surely the need to move around must be great, how can people not know when the only means in and out of this place operates? It slowly but surly drove me mad, I could envision some sort of groundhog day episode only it would be my life, I was about to get stuck in a town where all I could eat were egg sandwiches and people were extremely mean to their pets.

Caballococha was boiling hot, like the rest of the jungle. It was also flooded and rather smelly. It had the Iquitan weirdo vibes which I suppose is to be expected. We lazily made our way round a bit of it, since it wasn't that large and we ended up being there for two nights. I wouldn't want to have to stay there for too long (I imagine being stuck in a place like Caballococha is a certain road to insanity if you are used to doing anything other than fishing, you would have to quickly learn to love fishing here). Nevertheless, I quite enjoyed the weirdo cut off jungle vibe they had going on. Like, no rules, no routine, no rhythm, nothing much to do. We had a strange night out which saw us eating some rather dangerously prepared street grilled fish and get perved on and chatted up by two drunk and much older local men. After the meal they took us to a really noisy and empty bar that was playing some half decent latin songs. Chickens scratching around in the earth outside left you with the definite impression that this place was no frills. It's like that statement is totally redundant when talking about the jungle, I retract it. But there have been chickens in lots of places I've seen in Latin America, it's just that they're never right outside a bar or club usually. There were latent gay vibes and a girl dancing, shaking her ass in a sexy latin way. Wish I could dance like that. But seriously.

To illustrate the strange nature of this town, there was a corner shop that stocked NOTHING in the least bit useful, engine propellers (ok perhaps useful for locals) a substitute Inca Cola, a collection of other fizzy drinks and then god knows what but I couldn't find a single decent snack or makings of a hostel meal in there at all, not even bread or crackers. The only places you could eat or drink around the square all seemed to close at the hours where any normal bar or eatery might hope to be doing most of its business. Eating was pretty much a non event for us during our days in Caballococha.

Near the water was some sort of bandstand or perhaps more appropriately a fish market?? Locals lazed around watching the water flow by. But imagine if this is all you do with yourself for days and years in end. I noticed on the ground, along with the fish bones and suchlike that there were a few empty bottles lying around. No surprise, I'd probably be an alcoholic if I lived here.

Street dogs, as usual.

We took a walk into a flooded residential area which was connected by a system of wooden make-shift bridges. Now this felt slightly intrusive but immensely fun. Walking along the thin and rickety, precarious walkways knowing that if you slipped or fell you'd be in this water, not stagnant but not moving anywhere fast and dangerously close to a lot of people's home where the plumbing, I'd hazard a guess, was pretty much basic if not non-existent. We also had no idea how deep it was and therefore how far we're be falling, into water or hitting ground awkwardly. It was like a travellers adventure playground for a moment. When we walked back though, there were three small bays torturing a cat by throwing it into the water every time it made its way to safety and climbed out, they would launch it into the water again. I found this most distressing and shouted at them all. They ran away, I rescued the poor thing from the water where it seemed to be losing hope or strength or to have inhaled water and was in the process of drowning, ceasing to trust any human being it soon put the necessary distance between me and itself and we walked on to try and find another activity to pass the afternoon in this bizarre town. We found a bar decorated with jaguar skins and had a few beers...