I've slowly and begrudgingly started packing up my things and I just so happened to stumble across an old airplane barf bag (what's the politically correct term for those things?) crammed into a corner of my suitcase that had my messy handwriting scribbled all over it. It brought back so many memories from my time spent in the Bolivian Amazon and thought it would be a perfect (and easy) entry for this week's wandering wednesday.
After a harrowing plane ride to Rurrenabaque, a three hour canoe ride, and a one hour hike, we finally arrived at our destination: A small ecolodge nestled deep inside the Amazon jungle. We were warned ahead of time that all of the stops would be pulled out for a group of Amercans experiencing the wild jungle for their first time. As we slowly entered the clearing and came out of the jungle, a man stood waiting for us, extending a silver platter topped with glasses of lemonade.
I remember relaxing on a hammock right outside of the small wooded hut I was staying in. It was hot and humid. You could hear cappuccin monkeys in the distance and the swaying of the hammock was lulling me into a peaceful sleep. There were echoes of laughter in the distance from my fellow travel companions cooling off in a nearby lake. All of a sudden, it started to rain. You could smell the floral fragrance of the rainforest and in that moment, everything was perfect. It was undeniable
that God exists.