The Indian Commune

We left early in the canoe for more piranha fishing (Beth sobs) but this time to try and catch the elusive black piranha. They are the biggest of the species and can grow to 2 foot in length (Beth pales). We spent all morning in the flooded forests and divided our time between bailing out the leaking canoe for fear of sinking and actually catching them. Beth caught the only black one much to her dismay.

In the afternoon we started the long journey back to Manaus (95km) in time for our departure tomorrow. We stopped along the way at a native Indian community. The elder 'approved us' (someone has to!) and we were then allowed to wonder round the small village consisting of wooden huts and, the centre of the commune, a soccor pitch. We watched the boys play and wondered whether we were witnessing the next Ronaldo they were so good. Steve took a penalty and in true English style he missed. The men hunt, fish and farm in the day but it is the women who generate the most income for the commune through their beautiful crafts (girl power in the Amazon!)

The Indian communituy is like 'the Good life' on a gigantic scale. They have no real need for money and are oblivious to the situation in Iraq, the European union or the poilitical status in Brazil. They just simply survive and exist within the context of their community.

We sat on a beach to play with the children until we found out that the mud mound next to us was thinly covering the elder's parents who had died the previous week. We left pretty sharpish.

We have fallen out of love with the hammocks. After 5 mights we have become hunch backed and the amazon noises now hold promise of giant insects that could come into the boat and eat us (technically they couldn't and wouldn't but Beth's imagination is running riot in the heat of the Amazon).

Mosquito bites: too busy itching to count them.