In the colonies skin color is the real badge of nobility. In Mexico as well as in Peru, at Caracas as in Cuba, a barefoot man with a white skin is often heard to say: Does that rich person think himself whiter than I am? Because Europe pours so many people into America, it can easily be seen that the axiom 'Todo blanco es caballero' (All whites are gentlemen) must wound the pretensions of many ancient and aristocratic European families. We do not find among the people of Spanish origin that cold and pretentious air which modern civilization has made more common in Europe than in Spain. Conviviality, candor and great simplicity of manner unite the different classes in the colonies. (72)

In Europe we calculate the number of inhabitants of a country by the extent of cultivation; in the Tropics, in the warmest and most humid parts of South America, very populated areas seem deserted because man cultivates but a small number of acres to feed himself. Without neighbors, virtually cut off from the rest of mankind, each family forms a different tribe. This isolated state retards the progress of civilization, which advances only as society becomes more populated and its connections more intimate and multiplied. But, on the other hand, solitude develops and strengthens liberty and independence; and has fed that pride of character which distinguishes the Castilian race.

Frightened about being exposed too long to the unhealthy Cartagena airs we moved to the Indian village of Turbaco (once called Tarasco) on the 6th of April. It is situated in a delicious place where the jungle begins some 5 leagues south-south-east of Pipa. We were happy to leave a foul inn (fonda) packed with soldiers left over from General Rochambeau's unfortunate expedition. (144) Interminable discussions about the need to be cruel to the blacks of Santo Domingo reminded me of the opinions and horrors of the sixteenth-century conquistadores. Pombo lent us his beautiful house in Turbaco, built by Archbishop Viceroy Gòngora. We stayed as long as it took us to prepare for our journey up the Magdalena, and then the long land trip from Honda to Bogotà, Popoyàn and Quito. Few stays in the Tropics have pleased me more. The village lies some 180 toises above sea-level. Snakes are very common and chase rats into the houses. They climb on to roofs and wage war with the bats, whose screaming annoyed us all night. The Indian huts covered a steep plateau so that everywhere you can view shady valleys watered by small streams. We especially enjoyed being on our terrace at sunrise and sunset as it faced the Sierra Nevada de Santa Marta, some 35 leagues distant. The snow-covered peaks probably San Lorenzo - are clearly seen from Turbaco when the wind blows and brings cooler air. Thick vegetation covers the hills and plains between the Mahates dyke and the snowy mountains: they often reminded us of the beautiful Orinoco mountains. We were surprised to find, so close to the coast in a land frequented by Europeans for over three centuries, gigantic trees belonging to completely unknown species, such as the Rhinocarpus excelsa (which the creoles call caracoli because of its spiral-shaped fruit), the Ocotea turbacensis and the mocundo or Cavanillesia platanifolia, whose large fruit resemble oiled paper lanterns hanging at the tip of each branch.

How hard it is to express the pleasure we felt arriving at Angostura, capital of Spanish Guiana. The discomforts felt at sea in small boats cannot be compared to those felt under a burning sky, surrounded by swarms of mosquitoes, cramped for months on end in a pirogue that does not let you budge an inch because of its delicate balance. In seventy-five days we had traveled along the five great rivers of the Apure, the Orinoco, the Atabapo, the Rio Negro and the Casiquiare for 500 leagues, rarely sighting inhabited places. Although, after our life in the jungle, our clothes were not in good order, we hurried to present ourselves to the provincial governor Don Felipe de Ynciarte. He received us in the most considerate way, and lodged us in the house of the Secretary of the Intendencia. Coming from such deserted places we were struck by the bustle of a town of only 6, people. We appreciated what work and trade can do to make life more civilized. Modest houses seemed luxurious: anybody who spoke to us seemed witty. Long deprivations make small things pleasurable: how can l express the joy we felt on seeing wheat bread on the governor's table. I may be wrong in repeating what all travelers feel after long journeys. You enjoy finding yourself back in civilization, though it can be short-lived if you have learned to feel deeply the marvels of tropical nature. The memory of what you endured soon fades; as you reach the coasts inhabited by European colonists you begin to plan to make another journey into the interior.

The Indian pilot who had led us from San Fernando de Apure up to the Pararuma beach did not know his way through the Orinoco rapids, and no longer wanted to sail our boat. We had to accept his decision. Luckily the Carichana missionary agreed to loan us a fine pirogue quite cheaply. Father Bernardo Zea, missionary from Atures and Maypures near the Great Cataracts, even offered to accompany us himself to the Brazilian border. The number of Indians willing to carry the canoes along the cataracts was so few that without this monk's presence we risked waiting weeks in that humid and unhealthy area. Father Zea hoped to recover his health by visiting the Río Negro missions. He talked of those places with the enthusiasm that all those in the colonies feel when talking about far-off places.

The more travelers research into natural history, geography or political economy, the more their journey loses that unity and simplicity of composition typical of the earlier travelers. It is now virtually impossible to link so many different fields of research in a narrative so that what we may call the dramatic events give way to descriptive passages. Most readers, who prefer to be agreeably amused to being solidly instructed, gain nothing from expeditions loaded with instruments and collections.

A short time after the discovery of America, when Spain was at the zenith of her glory, the gentle character of the Guanches was the fashionable topic, just as in our times we praise the Arcadian innocence of the Tahitians. In both these pictures the coloring is more vivid than true. When nations are mentally exhausted and see the seeds of depravity in their refinements, the idea that in some distant region infant societies enjoy pure and perpetual happiness pleases them.