SUNDAY, NOVEMBER 18
4:04PM, sitting in a rocking chair on the porch of Paris' tambo
Sitting here in the middle of the jungle, I am appreciating how different, yet equally beautiful, Paris's land is from Otillia's. Speaking of different: I admit, today I woke up at 6 AM and smoked a joint. Morning angst I suppose; this failure took place before I'd even had my morning coffee. It was the only joint I've smoked all day, though.
We took a boat from the main dock in Iquitos and I sat in the back with the kid who worked as the deck hand. He was about 10 years old and laughed hysterically when I took photos of him and changed them in the iPhone app to make him look old or fat.
We landed on a river embankment with tall grass and slippery mud edges. The trail we followed went past an abandoned school house and into a small village with maybe 10 or 15 families in it.
Paris was met with all kinds of affection when we walked through the village. She's obviously been here many times winning the hearts of the locals. Past the village, we picked up another trail and made our way into the thick foliage. About halfway along our hike, two children came out to greet us; they were so happy to see Paris.

Now I'm on her property and sitting on the patio of the two-story house. There's about an hour until the sun goes down and I'm watching Joshua and Paris down below, near a small pond. They're crouched next to each other at the end of the short dock that goes into the pond, preparing a plant bath for us to use before the ceremony.
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