At the mouth of the Zama river we entered into a fluvial network worthy of attention. The Zama, Mataveni, Atabapo, Tuamini, Temi and Guianai rivers have aguas negras, that is, seen as a mass they appear brown like coffee, or greenish-black. These waters are, however, beautifully clear and very tasty. I have observed that crocodiles and mosquitoes, but not the zancudos, tend to avoid the black waters.

Seated on the crater's external edge we turned our eyes towards the north-east where the coasts are decorated with villages and hamlets. At our feet masses of mist, continually tossed about by the winds, changed shape all the time. A uniform layer of cloud between us and the lower regions of the island had been pierced here and there by wind currents sent up from the heated earth. The Orotava bay, its vessels at anchor, the gardens and vineyards round the town, appeared in an opening that seemed to enlarge all the time. From these solitary I regions our eyes dived down to the inhabited world below; we enjoyed the striking contrasts between the peak's arid slopes, its steep sides covered with scoriae, its elevated plains devoid of vegetation, and the smiling spectacle of the cultivated land below. We saw how plants were distributed according to the decreasing temperatures of altitudes. Below the peak lichens begin to cover the scorious and polished lava; a violet (Viola cheiranthifolia) similar to the Viola decumbens climbs the volcano's slopes up to 1, toises above all other herbaceous plants. Tufts of flowering broom decorate the valleys hollowed out by the torrents and blocked by the effects of lateral eruptions. Below the retama lies the region of ferns, and then the arborescent heaths. Laurel, rhamnus and strawberry-tree woods grow between the scrub and the rising ground planted with vines and fruit trees. A rich green carpet extends from the plain of brooms and the zone of alpine plants to groups of date palms and banana trees whose feet are bathed by the ocean.

The rivalry between Spain and Portugal has contributed to the poor geographical knowledge about the tributary rivers of the Amazon. The Indians are excellent geographers and can outflank the enemy despite the limits on the maps and the forts. Each side prefers to conceal what it knows, and the love of what ii mysterious, so common among ignorant people perpetuates doubt. It is also known that different Indian tribes in this labyrinth of rivers give rivers different names that all mean 'river', 'great water' and 'current'. I have often been puzzled trying to determine synonyms after examining the most intelligent Indians through an interpreter. Three or four languages are spoken in the same mission, it is hard to make witnesses agree. Our maps are full of arbitrary names. The desire to leave no void in maps in order to give them an appearance of accuracy has caused rivers to be created whose names are not synonymous. (114)

Once the camp has been set up the Uruana missionary designates his representative or superintendent, who divides the beach into lots according to the number in each tribe who are to harvest. They are all mission Indians, as naked and stupid as jungle Indians: they are called reducidos and neofitos because they attend church when the bells toll, and kneel during Communion. With a long pole made of wood or bamboo, he examines the extent of the stratum of eggs. According to our calculations this reaches 120 feet from the shore, and 3 feet deep. The Indians dig with their hands, put the harvested eggs in baskets called mappiri, and bring them to the camp to throw them into great wooden troughs filled with water. The eggs are smashed with sticks, shaken about and exposed to the sun until the yolk, the oily floating part, thickens out. This oily substance collecting on the surface is scooped off and cooked on a hot fire. The animal oil turns into what is called manteca de tortuga by the Spaniards (turtle fat), and keeps better the longer it is cooked. If it is well done it is completely clear, without smell and barely yellow. Missionaries compare it with the best olive oil and not only use it for burning in lamps but also for cooking, as its taste does not spoil good food. However, we could never obtain the pure oil. Generally it stinks because the eggs are mixed up with the already formed but dead baby turtles.

After four hours walking through savannah we reached a little wood composed of shrubs called el pejual, perhaps because of the amount of pejoa (Gaultheria odorata) there, a plant with strong-smelling leaves. The mountain slope became more gentle and we could pleasurably study the plants of the region. Perhaps nowhere else can so many beautiful and useful plants be discovered in such a small space. At 1, toises high the raised plains of La Silla gave place to a zone of shrubs that reminded one of the pàramos and punas.

The old Indian called 'master of the poison' was flattered by our interest in his chemical procedures. He found us intelligent enough to think that we could make soap; for making soap, after making curare, seemed to him the greatest of human inventions. Once the poison was poured into its jars, we accompanied the Indian to the juvias fiesta. They were celebrating the Brazil-nut harvest, and became wildly drunk. The hut where the Indians had gathered over several days was the strangest sight you could imagine. Inside there were no tables or benches, only large smoked and roasted monkeys lined up symmetrically against the wall. These were marimondas (Ateles belzebuth) and the bearded capuchins. The way these animals, which look so like human beings, are roasted helps you understand why civilized people find eating them so repulsive. A little grill made of a hard wood is raised about a foot from the ground. The skinned monkey is placed on top in a sitting position so that he is held up by his long thin hands; sometimes the hands are crossed over his shoulders. Once it is fixed to the grill a fire is lit underneath; flames and smoke cover the monkey, which is roasted and smoked at the same time. Seems Indians eat a leg or arm of a roasted monkey makes you realize why cannibalism is not so repugnant to Indians. Roasted monkeys especially those with very round heads, look horribly like children. Europeans who are forced to eat them prefer to cut off the head and hands before serving up the rest of the monkey The flesh of the monkey is so lean and dry that Bonpland kept an arm and a hand, roasted in Esmeralda, in his Paris collections. After many years it did not smell in the least.