My hammock rocks and sways as we make our way down the Amazon River in Peru. It’s been a few restless nights to say the least. The top deck becomes freezing, as the evening breeze creeps in through the holes of the protective canvas. Now I see why the locals don’t go for the open air view at the top.
The hammock is too small, and I’ve already put a rip in it. I should have known better when I purchased it for $7, somethings just aren’t worth the bargain. I’ve done a quick repair job, but now I fear it’ll snap at any moment in the middle of the night. I suggest forking out a couple of extra bucks if you’re going to be using it more often, especially in South America. A decent double sized hammock is definitely a good investment. Not only is it comfortable, but it’s super light weight and packs up to be tiny. Sometimes you just can’t substitute quality.
We’re waiting for dinner when some young kid comes up up to chat. I don’t mind, but he’s fascinated by my blonde leg hair and keeps trying to stroke my legs. He’s a nice kid, but after seeing all the preventative sex predator posters I get the feeling this kid is working undercover. ‘Wooh wooh wooh’, I shout loud enough for people around me to hear, as I detach his inquisitive hand from my ankle. I have to shoo him away politely before I’m caught on some secret camera and extorted by the authorities.