Whoever lives in this region, whether white, mulatto, black or Indian, suffers equally from insect stings. People spend their time complaining of the plaga, del insufrible tormento de las moscas. I have mentioned the curious fact that whites born in the Tropics can walk about barefoot in the same room where a recently arrived European runs the risk of being bitten by niguas, or chigoes (Pulex penetrans). These hardly visible animals dig under toenails and soon reach the size of a pea as they develop their eggs, situated in little sacs under their abdomens. It seems as if the nigua is able to distinguish the cellular membrane and blood of a European from those of a white criollo, something that the most detailed chemical analysis has been unable to do. It is not the same with mosquitoes, despite what is said on South American coasts. These insects attack Indians as much as Europeans; only the consequences of the bites vary with race. The same venomous liquid applied to the skin of a copper-colored Indian and to a recently arrived white does not cause inflammations to the first, while to the second it causes hard, inflamed blisters that last for various numbers of days.

Nothing equals the beauty and mildness of a tropical ocean's climate. While the trade wind blew strongly the thermometer remained steadily at 23'C or 24'C by day, and 22'C to 22. by night. What a contrast between the tempestuous seas of the northern latitudes and those regions where the peace of nature is never disturbed! If the return journey from Mexico or South America was as quick and agreeable as the outgoing one the number of Europeans settled in the colonies would be considerably less than it is at the present. The seas that surround the Azores and Bermudas, which you cross when returning to Europe, are oddly called by Spaniards El Golfo de las Yeguas (Gulf of Mares). Settlers who are not used to the sea and who have lived isolatedly in Guianan forests, or in the savannahs of Caracas, or in the mountains of Peru, fear this gulf more than people fear Cape Horn. They exaggerate the dangers of a journey that is treacherous only in winter. They postpone this dangerous return year after year until death surprises them still planning.

We saw the Indians dancing. These dances are all the more monotonous as women do not dare take part. The men, both young and old, hold hands, form a circle, and for hours turn around to the right, then the left, in utter silence. Usually the dancers themselves are the musicians. Weak notes blown from reeds of different sizes make it all seem slow and sad. To mark the time the leading dancer bends both knees rhythmically. The reeds are tied together in rows. We were surprised to see how quickly young Indians could cut reeds and tune them as flutes when they found them on the banks.