The moment I had first entered Caya Shobo I knew I was in the right place. However, there were certain features of this relatively remote jungle community that took time to adjust to. For example, the gates and adjacent jungle are patrolled by guards armed with hunting rifles to help ward off unruly wild animals, or how there was a resident caiman who frequented the pond next to the dining area and occasionally wandered into visible range. The whole compound was a kind of "mini jungle" where various jungle medicines, including the ayahuasca vine, were grown and harvested. The wide array of wild jungle birds was an absolute wonder to behold. In particular, I was enamoured with this one species of bird whose feathers were yellow and black and its bird call sounded almost like an "alien language". It clicked  with a unique, robotic tone that was so mystical it's become stamped into my memory. My local friend Carlos later told me this bird is called "Paucar" which is Spanish slang for the "Yellow-Rumped Cacique", a bird which imitates other birds.

Caya Shobo was my sole destination for drinking ayahuasca because of the quality of the care offered, the traditional "dieta" protocol, and perhaps most importantly the traditional healing methods applied by reputable master Shipibo shamans.  The feelings I felt inside the ceremonial "maloka" as Arturo and Walter sang ikaros in concert will not soon be forgotten. These types of experiences are imprinted into one's soul, to be brought forward through many lifetimes, with the relationship of grandmother ayahuasca being the gateway to entering into this sacred dimension of plant spirits.  

Since I had arrived to the retreat a day early, I had a chance to sneak into town before our first night of drinking ayahuasca where the following day we would start our "plant dieta" (I will go into more detail on dieta later). We were advised to leave the compound as little as possible, if at all, to reduce exposure to the outside world's energy, or even the inhalation of gasoline was harmful to the plant dieta process. I had planned to visit the famous "Mercado de Belen" to acquire "Mapacho" (very strong Peruvian tobacco) and a few other shamanic healing tools so I paid for a tuk-tuk and made my way into town around 7 am. Belen Market spans about a 5-block radius around the southeast corner of Iquitos, gradually transitioning into a small community alongside docks that wraps along a small river that feeds into the mighty Amazon River. My first time at Belen was quite overwhelming, but over time I grew to enjoy the hustle and bustle of this massive "wet market". During the rainy season, a large portion of the market is submerged underwater and the only way to navigate is by boat, however, I arrived during the dry season and managed fine on foot.  As a Canadian who spoke little Spanish, it was inevitable I would be taken advantage of to some degree but thankfully I had the good fortune of being introduced to a local tour guide who became a good friend, Carlos (In an orange shirt in the photo to the right). This man, a father of three, a husband, a craftsman and artist, as well as a kind of tour guide to some, has a heart of gold. He has lived in Iquitos his whole life, spoke a little English, and knew almost every single person who worked at the market.  I'm blessed to call him a friend and returned to Belen about 6 more times to search for "Sahumeria" (Shipibo floral baths), avocados, and tobacco snuff or other times to simply spend time with Carlos. Over my nearly month and a half in Iquitos, he eventually introduced me to his humble homestead, a part of a small riverside village within walking distance of the market. To the right are "Tepis" which are a small hollow wooden tube used to administer tobacco snuff.

My very first interaction at Belen was with an old man who only spoke Spanish and sold me two seed rattles, one with a "picaflor" (a jungle bird), and another with a turtle. He was friendly but made me somewhat uncomfortable with how enthusiastically he was pushing his merchandise. He would do a silly impression of a shaman showing me how a curandero (healer) would shake and sing with the rattle which admittedly I found a bit condescending.  I told him I was from "Caya Shobo", an ayahuasca retreat and he was kind enough to introduce me to Carlos. The first time I met Carlos I could tell he was different from the other vendors. Carlos makes a living by selling crafted jewelry and "ayahuasca hearts" which are small slivers of the "Caapi Vine" one of the ingredients of the ayahuasca brew. Later on, when I visited his home he showed me how he makes them, cutting the vine with a hacksaw and then coating them in a kind of resin.  He is a short man, with a silver tooth, a warm smile and a confidence to his strut that was disarming in a way. He held a great air of respect and compassion to his tone, speaking English in a relatively fluent manner which helped me feel like I could open up to him more. I wouldn't describe our friendship as an instantaneous foundation of trust but over that month, returning to see Carlos continually, I felt rapport was built. He didn't ask for any support or exchange directly but instead offered help in any way he could with no clear expectation of what he might receive, if anything, in return. After meeting his wife and three young children, his pets, a little white dog and small yellow bird, I felt deeply called to support him in any way I could. Before leaving town I offered him a bit of money for groceries and left him some food my last day in the city. If you're ever at Belen market in Iquitos, and find yourself in "Medicine Alley", ask for "Carlos" and you will be very grateful you did! Muchas gracias por mi hermano Carlos (Thank you very much my brother Carlos)!

Jungle medicines such as ayahuasca or "kambo" will test your relationship to fear. I remember doing the "frog medicine" kambo in Canada a handful of times before I'd left for the jungle and it's very humbling. The frog venom strips you down to an almost child-like helplessness. At higher doses, you feel a mild form of paralysis, followed by waves of exhaustion and nausea which, now that I can compare the two, felt similar to ayahuasca. However, my mind was reacting much more dramatically. Our mind is quite dramatic when it reaches its breaking point, sending in its "big guns" in a kind of last-ditch effort at maintaining psychological dominance. This kind of fragile mental state, especially when influenced by a plant dieta, made my fears surface gradually as a kind of slow burn that ultimately left me in a deeply overwhelmed, borderline psychotic state. As horrible as this sounds, this was an incredibly beneficial experience of forcing anything that I wasn't facing directly to my conscious awareness and allowing me to face it head-on. I don't think I could have done this any other way, for years I was avoiding these feelings and some of the fears that arose I hadn't even consciously reflected on until that night. "The mind went down kicking and screaming" is how I described it, which made me experience many different versions of a "fight-or-flight" reaction sometimes continually in waves throughout the night. But on the other side of the darkness were tremendous releases of grief, sadness, opening to love, and joy, along with a range of spiritual events my mind had a hard time grasping as a part of my current reality. What made it all possible was the required discipline and presence that the retreat had sparked within me, the support of very powerful "ikaros" (shamanic Amazonian songs) and occasionally smoking "mapacho" which was a ceremonial aid recommended by the Shipibo to help with clarity of visions and focus throughout. Gracias Abuelita, gracias por la luz (Thank you Grandmother, thank you for the light)!  

I leave you with a couple quotes by Maestro Miguel, our esteemed shamanic facilitator and owner of Caya Shobo, "Do not believe all of your visions", and "Where is the light? On the other side of yourself."  
  

On the Saturday of our first week of dieta it was suggested by a fellow retreat participant that we should all pool together our resources and visit "Monkey Island", a nearby wildlife rescue operation that saved monkeys from the illegal monkey trade where they are trafficked and sold as pets. After a lengthy rehabilitation process, the monkeys are released into the wild to live happily and freely in the Peruvian jungle. I was quite interested in the idea but also felt conflicted to leave the retreat due to them recommending we stay on the compound to work with our dieta and meditate as often as possible. But I ended up succumbing to the social pressure and quite enjoyed the experience which for many I could tell was a much-needed relief from the first 4 ayahuasca ceremonies.  For the majority of participants, this first week of ceremonies caused immense physical distress. Getting to the island was quite an adventure, we paid to rent out a motor boat and crossed the Amazon river travelling north to a remote jungle landscape where after a small hike we were surrounded by friendly monkeys of all kinds! On my way to Monkey Island, I was approached by a sombrero merchant who sold me a thatched sunhat for 20 soles (6$ CAD)! On Monkey Island I met Karena an Australian woman who was volunteering as part of a work exchange, living there for a couple of weeks After I completed the ayahuasca retreat Karena and I spent a week together in Iquitos where we had the pleasure of going on trips to Belen together and over that week we'd spend pretty much the entire week at each other's side.

For those who don't know, "dieta" is the Spanish word for "diet", but refers to an experience that is far more specific than strictly abstaining from a range of foods. Where the dieta does require cutting out a vast majority of "flavour enhancers" it also requires us to clear the mind of anything that alters our energetic state such as aggressive or sexual thoughts, and even requires a person to refrain from physical contact entirely. So technically, leaving the retreat to hang out with dozens of monkeys wasn't breaking the dieta, but having any kind of sexual experience (including thoughts if you can believe it) is considered disrespectful to the plant spirits and will lead to some kind of reaction when drinking ayahuasca. Take into consideration, our version of the Shipibo dieta was far less extreme than the traditional methods where the process was a lot more dangerous and strict. I go into more detail about the Shipibo traditions on the next page. Considering we are all on different stages of the healing path I believe many of us are unwilling to endure these types of conditions. So I recognize the value of giving oneself grace if we break self-imposed agreements. Having the capacity to forgive ourselves, have acceptance for the needs we desire to have met (visiting monkeys for stress relief for example) and allow ourselves to learn what we can from the experience.

Near the eastern edge of Iquitos, in a district known as "Malecón Iquitos", there is a museum called " Museo de Culturas Indigenas Amazonicas" ie. the Indigenous Culture Museum, a beautiful exhibit that displays a range of rare artifacts and even houses a painting from the famous shaman painter Pablo Amaringo. Karena and I were eager to check out the displays of various traditional regalia, artworks and tools that were on display. The exert on the right is from the exhibit for the "Shipibo-Conibo", and I felt compelled to share its invocative message. The cut-off portion describes how the women of the Shipibo culture have the social responsibility to portray these patterns (for various reasons) through clothing, tapestries, pottery and various other hand-sewn artwork. The designs of the Shipibo are known worldwide and are a proud and honourable expression that shows the pride of these traditions which were resistant to colonization. To this day, many of the ancient traditions of the Shipibo remain intact and are practiced by skilled shamans and artists who often live adjacent to, or fully immersed within, the Amazon jungle. A traditional Shipibo run ayahuasca ceremony can be characterized by a few unique practices such as: the "plant dieta", involving the routine ingestion of non-psychoactive plant medicine, the use of "ikaros" in the ceremony, and the use of "Mapacho", strong Peruvian tobacco which is smoked and blown over the body of participants. According to these traditions cleaning of the spirit body is practiced by blowing Mapacho smoke into and around the "crown chakra" or the crown of the head. From having partaken in these traditional ceremonies I feel a profound love and deep appreciation for the priviledge of having access to these methods of healing the body and the spirit. In memory of my time at Caya Shobo I proudly hang two Shipibo tapestries in my bedroom, one dedicated to my plant dieta "boahuasca" and the other which depicts a figure in a meditative posture, a homage to the pure, meditative concentration required to receive the teachings from the medicine.    

After finishing my ayahuasca retreat at Caya Shobo, I had arranged to stay nearby at an "Air Bnb" neighbouring the compound called "Villa Chachyta", later deciding to leave this place for a cozier and much cheaper apartment in the northern city district near "Jiron Trujillo". As wonderful as the villa was at first, I gradually began to feel deeply unsettled by the circumstances surrounding the person hired to look after the property. I was the only person staying here aside from the groundskeeper who was staying with her young son and daughter and she spoke very little English but I could use a translator to communicate when I needed to. I was trying my best to settle into this place after a very challenging last week at Caya Shobo, the medicine had tested my physical and psychological well-being leaving me questioning aspects of my sanity and feeling deeply exhausted. Over about a week I recognized I was in the middle of a conflict between the owners (who were currently in Mexico) and their employee who wasn't being paid. After speaking with the neighbour (A very friendly French Air Bnb host himself) I learned these kinds of conflicts happened a lot and I was simply at the wrong place at the wrong time, however, I empathized with the single mother who was struggling to feed her children and gave her some food. The nature of the conflict was stressful and progressively escalated,  leaving me feeling emotionally depleted after about a week so I decided to cancel my remaining time and went to stay in an apartment in the city. My advice is that you shouldn't trust the reviews on Air Bnb (they can't be taken down and are often unrepresentative), and that in a small community it's important that you get to know the neighbours, and always have a few taxi drivers as friends because you might need an emergency exit strategy. It wasn't all bad though, I had Karena visit the cabin a few times, we went for a swim in a natural pool, made a lot of incredible food, painted sometimes, I would often hang in my hammock, smoked mapacho, and enjoy the sounds of the jungle which were identical to the retreat. So this summary more or less describes my first three weeks in Peru. A pretty eventful introduction to South America, and I wholeheartedly accept the good, the bad, and everything in between. It's all a part of the unfolding journey!

‍

One of my most memorable experiences was sitting on the second floor of "Dawn of the Amazon" cafe overlooking the Amazon River surrounded by a magnificent jungle landscape, the sun reflecting off of the water, dozens of mighty jungle birds circling overhead, enjoying pumpkin soup and conversation with my friend Karena. She and I met up for lunch after I'd left Villa Chachyta, and she was departing Peru on her way to Bolivia. Here I met a local named Dylan, who moved to Iquitos from Argentina and worked at the cafe/restaurant as a bartender and server. He spoke fluent English and was great company while I waited for my Air Bnb host to provide me with the location of the apartment I would be staying at.

Dawn of the Amazon became a kind of hub for me, where I'd stop by and visit Dylan and enjoy the beautiful view of the Amazon River. A few times I decided to walk back from Belen market and walk along the Malecón, where I took these photos of the kind of shanty village that emerged next to a tall stone walkway that wrapped around the edges of the city that gradually became marshy and eventually, once you'd crossed the river, lively jungle terrain. Sometimes I would be stopped by locals who wanted to chat and sell me art, or other times solicited various jungle medicines or psychedelics to which I would politely decline and wish them a good day. From the street artists' unique and marvelous trinkets, the breathtaking views of the Amazon river and accompanying jungle, and the beautiful calls of the yellow-rumped cacique in concert with the cicadas and frogs, which I dearly missed being away from Varillal, this area soon became a "little slice of the jungle" to me.

Sometimes the universe puts you in the right place at the exact right time and something magical happens. This was my experience during my last week in Iquitos where I had the good fortune of meeting an idol of mine, Maestro Hamilton Souther. I had returned to Dawn of the Amazon to see Dylan and ran into a Shipibo man who had tried to sell me a beautiful "harpy eagle-feather" ceremonial fan (which I wish I had bought to be honest). I remembered him because his friend named Angel wanted to sell me a massive harpy eagle feather for 200 soles, an insane price for a feather but to be fair this feather was half as long as my arm. I liked Angel, he speaks good English and invited me to his ayahuasca retreats he runs with local Shipibo shamans which I am considering checking out if I'm ever in Iquitos again. However, I was quite broke after spending so much money on Shipibo art at the retreat and had to politely decline the purchase of this behemoth feather, but I desperately wanted a much smaller harpy eagle feather for my hat. I had run into Angel a few times prior and every time he insisted no small feathers were for sale, which I'd assumed was the end of that, until his friend who had shown me the fan told me to come with him to his store at the Mercado de Indigenia, i.e. the Shipibo Market. He had insisted that these feathers weren't the result of the hunting of this endangered bird, and based on him being a jungle tour guide I trusted his story of receiving these feathers as trade from a local tribe who honors the lives of the harpy eagles.  It was my final week in Iquitos and I had my heart set on attaining this feather, so I followed him for a few blocks to his store, which was at a nearby location I was quite familiar with. On the way we passed these two tall Caucasian men, whom he greeted and I politely said hello to, not knowing why he introduced me to them. I'd naively thought that it was him trying to display that he has foreign friends from around the block as a way of building trust but as he asked "Do you know of Blue Morpho?" I was stunned. I said yes, it's a highly reputable ayahuasca retreat in Costa Rica, I had learned about Blue Morpho Healing Centre from a podcast interview with their resident shaman and founder, Hamilton Souther. "Yes, that is Hamilton," he told me, and my eyes widened, I was dumbstruck. This man was one of the very first American citizens to train under traditional shamans at a time when nobody in the West even knew what ayahuasca was. I idolized this man for his display of trust in the divine, unwavering dedication and courage to walk the path of service. I had never in my wildest dreams thought I would walk down the same street as this man, one of the few people on this entire planet I consider a hero and a role model. And onward I went, to acquire my harpy eagle feather (of modest size) proudly brandishing this symbol of divine alignment and feeling proud of the courage I'd shown myself drinking ayahuasca 8 times with the Shipibo, facing my demons and moving through the experience with discipline and dignity.