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Cousin Jimmy sent this to me - what a sweet guy! A flashback to a time when I was more worried about my first pimple than whether Id be bike jacked in brazil.
A Philosophy on Life, Adventure, Happiness and Fear
Almost 25 years old, asking my parents if I can sleep in their bed with them. I had thought I was going to be the 25th Prime Minister of Canada. Things had changed. 10 years later, I was still a scared little boy. The time had come to slap myself awake. One Saturday morning, November 19th, 2009, I declared to the world I would be riding my 10 year-old motorcycle from Vancouver, BC Canada to Rio de Janeiro, Brasil, and back.
The official departure was August 28th, 2010. A group of well-wishers saw me off at 8:03 am.
I arrived in Rio de Janeiro around 6 pm March 1st, 2011.
My return to Vancouver came on July 5th, 2011 about 2:00 pm.
Drug & alcohol abuse, ADD, social anxiety, health, chronic pain, night terrors.
So many concerns. But I am far more interested in this question: Do I have the capacity to make this trip despite all my shortcomings?
My mission: To inspire myself to face my fears, enlighten myself on how all living things can peacefully co-exist, enjoy every moment, and see the world as plentiful and generous.
Go ahead. Call me crazy. Call me anything you like.
I'm out to save my world.
I LOVE YOU ALL
Questions, comments, concerns, threats? Contact me: jason.chapman99@gmail.com
It’s the night before we arrive in Belem, 2 days after schedule. Word is that we will be in the port at 5 am. My bags and personal items are all ready to go. I also elected to don all my leathers to not only be ready for the morning, but to stay warm on my final night. It was a glorious night for personal victories. My friend Lisa and the Ellingson family had taught me the Wizard card game back in 2001, and she had even bought me my own set for a birthday a year or so later. Despite the game’s popularity in my mind, I had only shared it with other people once in all those years. The second time was tonight. I was hesitant to bring it out although several people were avid card players on the boat. I knew I was unsure of some of the rules, and the instructions were not clear in that regard. But, I mustered my courage and asked 5 other people to join me in a game after dinner. To complicate things, we were unable to find a place to play, with the boat’s top deck windy, rainy, and the middle packed with people on the ground and in the hammocks. We tried the basement floor of the boat, and lucked out with the first mate’s desk which we took over. We had two other players who also joined us, but I had to send them away, as only 6 were the maximum allowed.
As expected, several unclear rules played themselves out within the first few rounds of our practice games. Some were getting frustrated and annoyed, but I stayed calm and focused, and believed we would see it through. As we solidified all the rules that weren’t clear, I made sure to write them down in the instruction book so that I would know for next time. I wouldn’t have done that if I believed I wasn’t good enough, and therefore wouldn’t need to, because I would never ask anyone to play again! Instead, everyone loved the game, and mentioned they would have liked that I brought it out sooner.
In earlier news, I made a pass at someone and asked if I had made her feel uncomfortable. I guess I just felt so damn comfortable speaking to her, I just did what I felt I wanted to. Isn’t that what everyone does? I ignored all the books and advice on women, and just went with my feelings. In the end, it felt a bit embarrassing, but much better to know I put myself out there, authentic and real. That’s what was cool. Anyways, it wasn’t that much, just a stroke on the arm. I also downloaded my photos onto one of the kids’ mom’s computer and she was enraptured by them. The Amazon was so interesting today; the passage became very narrow in places, and the shores often displayed homes or boats of some kind. I realized I hold a lot of tension in my body, and it is my job to remember to release it. I want to have kids I want to have a wife. I want to be the best man I can be. Not for my parents, or to compete with others, or to do what I am supposed to do. But to just be the best for others around me, to be ready and prepared when someone needs something, and also to be there for me. Feeling good, strong, and ready for the day. I’ve sacrificed myself by giving into ‘pain’, and not fighting to be the awesome guy that i know i can be. Again, not to be popular, or to get something, but just to live life in a different realm this way. I think children need teachers and mentors that are smarter, quicker, and more successful than any of the CEO’s out there making $12 million on the bonuses or stock options. I believe that if children have the ability to understand the differences between what they think, and who they can be, we can solve most of the worlds’ problems in one generation.
My hammock is swinging so much i’m banging into Mar’s head, who is sleeping with her head on the side. Perhaps it is time to join the sleeping regiment of hammocks......
Wednesday was a beautiful day, especially after I decided to stop smoking, and start taking care of myself I was in a lot of pain for a couple days, and my mind was not cooperating, often sending me into bouts of despair about my ability to connect with people. So, I just decided I was going to eliminate anything that could make my life harder in the long run, and really commit to making myself healthier. It’s been done before, but every time I do it, I am blessed with a short run of optimism and hope for the future.. I did some stretches, chatted with Iris from Taiwan (really loved her quiet, relaxed way of listening to me), had some coffee, made a bracelet with the two Argentinians, as Geraldo patiently showed me how. Children from the riverside villages were frantically paddling their boats towards us, and someone was throwing plastic bags full of something to them, perhaps food. Later, a courageous group of youngsters tied themselves to the front of the boat, and climbed on like a group of pirates to sell their coconuts for $1R . I have yet to understand the children talking but they don’t seem to mind, often questioning me about this or that Maybe someday I’ll figure it out!
Saturday and most of Sunday passed without a hitch, as we arrived in Santarem, ½ way down the river between Belem and Manaus. We left in the early afternoon, but realized we were heading back there and became suspicious. After some fussing and fretting, we found out there was a problem with the
motor, and we may not be able to leave until Friday, or almost a whole week. That was when all hell began to break loose.
Several of our new friends elected to leave. The poor Danish couple got shafted twice, and rumour had it they left without receiving their money back. That’s how upset she was at the way of life on the Amazon. The level of stress seemed to be higher with those who had made tight plans expecting a European-like efficiency in arrival time. Panic soon turned to acceptance, and the remaining group decided to decend upon Santarem on a Sunday night and make the best of it.
Monday featured a surprising cast of local heroes that took on the impossible task of getting the boat going again. I watched with interest as the welder cut open the metal wall surrounding the motor, wondering the scope of work to come. Hopes soared as we saw another motor on the back of a truck, and soon, it was on the front of another boat being roped up to hook on to the pulley wheels Tense moments ensued as the several ton motor was suspended between the neighbouring boat and ours, as the carrying boat pulled back to provide room. The men worked into the evening, and we all laid down our bets as to when we were leaving.
I heard the motor fire up early Tuesday morning, and although our final destination was still 2 days away, it felt a welcome blessing. A quick run into town was successful, as Gabriel grabbed some groceries for me while I found an internet shop where the owner spoke perfect English. We were told the boat was leaving at 10 am, and I was still on the computer at 9:55. Fortunately i ignored my mind’s prediction that the boat would be late again and ran back. Gabriel wiped his brow in mock relief as he saw me walk down the plank to our boat, and I felt i cut it very close We were on our way at 10:30, almost 48 hours after complete despair and worry.
As soon as we drove in to the port, the men were on us. They whistled and shouted to get my attention but I knew where I was going, and was in no mood for distractions. Balark had already called the contact agent on the business card Tolio received for me two days early, so I knew the man would be waiting. Despite already having made a choice of boat to take, one short and persistent fellow found out the name of the company I wanted, and he told me to follow, running between cars. Balark wisely stayed back with his van and said “call me when you’re on the boat”. The traffic was too congested and there was no point. I felt vulnerable having lost my translator, but found solace in following the man through the labyrinth.
Within minutes of my arrival to the kiosk, my initial contact agent from two days before had left, and a group of people were telling me I had to ride my bike down the steep walkway to the dock. Oh boy. Up on the curb and across the sidewalk I was, as people scurried to get out of the determined Canadian’s way. I had 4 people hurriedly create a path through the crowd until we hit the dock, and I reminded them to continue. The dock consisted of two floating platforms, and although quite long, had a foot wide chasm between them, and one was about 6” higher than the other. After a moment’s hesitation, I gunned it over the gap with a loud bang from scraping the bottom of the bike. Finally, I was at the end of the docks, with one cheeky helper asking for ‘cem’ reals, or $60 CDN for about 5 minutes work. I told him to ‘pound sand’, and went through a diatribe of explaining to them that just because I was a ‘gringo’ did not mean i was rich. One woman really understood and smiled, while the others just quietly disappeared. I instead gave them $R20 between 4 of them, as they really did help out. It seemed I was at the end of my troubles, and celebrated with 1, 2 and then a 3rd beer.
By 12:30 pm, a ½ hour after we were supposed to depart, a wiry, septic old man approached me and excitedly told me I had to come back the way I had come. It was supposedly illegal for vehicles of any type to be transported on the passenger boats, but the crew always do it for the extra money. I confirmed with a nice man sporting a wart on the end of his nose that indeed I should follow the old man’s directive. I went back over the gap mentioned earlier, but this time I high-center the whole bike and have to be pushed over, with a disturbing bang.
Then I faced a narrow plank going into the boat, not even wide enough for me to put my feet down. A truck was already inside and had to be pushed back to make room. The 3 beers were feeling like a pretty bad idea by that time. With a little help and grace I was up and over the metre-wide space between dock and boat. I paid the old man $R5 for the help, although he offered to stay and tie up the bike. I was then ushered over to the desk manned by a younger be-spectacled fellow who politely asked for my ticket, ushering in a whole new mood. My original contact agent had told me it would be $R200 to transport my bike, but when the office man writes down $R600 I flip. After protesting angrily, I retrieve the agent’s card, and tell the desk clerk to call him to sort it out. It wasn’t the first time I had been misled by a local on this journey, but never before was it such a gross difference between fact and fiction. I had to let go of the $R400 that made me feel so rich, and forget about it.
My spirits soon exploded like fireworks, as I realized I would have 4 days with young backpackers who spoke English, drinking beer, smoking cigarettes and playing cards. Another motorcyclist was on board; a Mexican who was on a similar journey to mine. France, Germany, England, Denmark, Spain, and Australia were also all represented, as well as an older Canadian/American couple travelling from Fanny Bay, B.C. The three European students travelling from Curitiba saved the last spot in an already impossibly crowded network of hammocks slung to the ceiling of the 2nd deck. I really was in a festive mood, and made an effort to chat with everyone. It was the first time in months that I felt really excited, and relieved about the type of people that surrounded me. I had forgotten how lonely I had felt for so long. I certainly didn’t mind our 5 hour delay (true Northern Brasil style), but the Danish woman was quite nervous, as she and her boyfriend booked a flight out of Manaus the same day we were meant to arrive there. I served as her translator, and did my best to calm her down.
We all slowly got to know each other, and shared our different cultural ideas. We were on the Amazon after all. Mingling with the locals, I am sure they were a little cautious around these strange people. We were all surprised with the quality of food, and prices of everything on the boat. It was kind of like a cruise for folks on an extremely tight budget, with music on the top floor and a bar. Everyone kept busy with an assortment of things, with Marco the German resorting to making blow darts he was taught to make from his jungle tour guide. I joked and asked if he was going to make one for each person on the boat. There were lots of kids around, and they became more and more comfortable with us as the day progressed. The night was surprisingly cold compared to the day, and I had to wake up, run downstairs and get my blanket.