Our mules waited for us on the left bank of the Orinoco. The plant collections and geological specimens brought from Esmeralda and the Río Negro had greatly increased our baggage. It would have been dangerous to leave our herbals behind, but this added weight meant we now faced a tediously slow journey across the llanos. The heat was excessive due to the bare ground's reverberations. The thermometer by day recorded between 30°C and 34°C, and at night 27°C to 28°C. Like everywhere in the Tropics it was less the actual degree of heat than its duration that affected our bodies. We spent thirteen days crossing the steppes, resting a little in the Carib missions and in the village of Payo.

Such is the memory attached to this fatal rock called the Piedra de la Madre. If I have dawdled over this touching story of maternal love in an often vilified race, it is because I wanted to make public this story heard from monks to prove that even missions should obey laws.

From a distance Villa de la Orotava pleases because of the many streams running down the main streets. The Agua Mansa spring, trapped in two large reservoirs, turns several mills and is then released in the nearby vineyards. The climate in the town is even more refreshing than in the port as a strong wind always blows from ten in the morning onwards. Because of the altitude water evaporates in the air and frequently precipitates to make the climate misty. The town lies 160 toises above sea-level; which is 200 toises lower than La Laguna; it was noted that plants flower a month later here.

The sea coast is fringed with date and coconut palms; above them groups of banana trees stand out from the dragon trees whose trunks are often rightly compared to snakes' bodies. The hills are covered in vines, which grow over high stakes. Orange trees loaded with blossom, myrtle and cypress surround chapels raised devotedly by the islanders on cleared hilltops. Land is divided by hedges made of agave and cactus. Innumerable cryptogamous plants, predominantly fern, cover the walls moistened by small clear-water springs. In winter when the volcano is covered with snow and ice this place enjoys an eternal spring. In summer, as the evening falls, a sea breeze freshens the air. The coastal population is very dense and appears to be even greater because the houses and gardens are scattered, increasing the picturesque aspect. Unhappily, the wealth of the inhabitants does not correspond with hard work or with nature's richness. Those who work the land are not its owners; the fruit of their labor belongs to the nobility and the feudal system that for so long was the shame of Europe and still prevents the people's progress here.

Most missionaries on the Upper and Lower Orinoco let their Indians paint their skin. It is painful to say that some missionaries make a profit from the nakedness of Indians. Unable to sell them cloth or clothes the monks trade in red pigment. I have often seen in their huts, pompously called conventos, stores of chica cakes, sold for up to four francs. To give an exact idea of what Indians mean by luxury I would say that here a man of large stature hardly earns for two weeks' work enough chica to paint himself red. Just as in temperate climates we say of a poor man that 'he does not earn enough to dress himself' so I have heard Indians say that 'a man is so miserable he cannot even paint half his body'.

The American languages have a structure so different from Latin that the Jesuits, who look carefully to anything that might favor a quick establishing of missions, introduced the richer Indian languages, especially Quechua and Guarani, instead of Spanish, to their converts because these languages were systematic and already widespread. They tried to substitute these poorer, coarser dialects with irregular constructions. They found this substitution easy; Indians from different tribes docilely learned them, and these languages became a medium of communication between missionary and Indian. Through these languages the Jesuits found it easier to link the various tribes until then separated from each other by language.

Nothing can compare to the majestic tranquillity of the stars in the sky in this solitary place. At nightfall, when we stared at the point where the horizon meets the meadows on this gently rolling plain, it seemed, as later in the Orinoco steppes, as if we were seeing the surface of an ocean supporting the starry vault. The tree at whose feet we sat, the luminous insects dancing in the air, the shining constellations of the Southern hemisphere, everything reminded us that we were far from our homeland. And if, in the middle of this exotic nature, the sound of cow bells or the bellowing of a bull came from the small valleys, memories of our native land were suddenly awoken. It was as if we heard distant voices echoing across the ocean, magically carrying us from one hemisphere to another. How strangely mobile is man's imagination, eternal source of his joys and pains!