Finding Comfort in a Time of Transition
By Tia Flores
“Normality is a paved road: It’s comfortable to walk, but no flowers grow.” - Vincent van Gogh
In March 2020, I was deep in the Amazon Rainforest on a humanitarian mission when Peruvian President Martín Vizcarra unexpectedly signed a supreme decree mandating that all domestic and international travel be suspended to combat the spread of the coronavirus. All methods of travel came to an immediate and complete halt. Planes were grounded, boats were docked, and all ground transportation was stopped, thereby leaving foreigners like myself stranded and with no way out of the jungle.
I had traveled to Peru to work with a group of women living in a remote village on the banks of the Yanayacu River, a tributary of the Amazon River. This was my third trip to the Ayacucho river village to assist the women in creating a sustainable income through their craft making. Equipped with craft-making tools and supplies, I was eager to reconnect with the women of Ayacucho village.
Yanayacu River Watergrass. Photos/Tia Flores.
I had purchased my plane ticket to Peru months in advance of the departure date. The news outlets spoke of a very contagious virus in China and Europe. Yet from all indications, it appeared to be safe to travel to the southern hemisphere.
The flight from Reno to LAX was like any other trip. Both airports packed with passengers hustling to get to their departing gates. The midnight flight from LAX to Lima was full of people and void of any disruptions. The flights and navigation through the airports were very familiar, until the plane landed in Lima, Peru. Once we deplaned, a half dozen people clothed in medical hazmat suits greeted us with questions about our health and took our temperature. The next flight from Lima to Iquitos was uneventful. A handful of people wore masks but the majority of passengers did not.
It was so good to be back in Iquitos and at the DoubleTree Hotel, which was located in the town square just a block away from the port. While in town, we purchased bottled water for the jungle and had dinner with our Peruvian friends. We awoke early the next morning, loaded our belongings onto the motorboat, and traveled down the Amazon River. It took us a little over three hours to arrive at the lodge. Aside from the situation on the plane in Lima, everything seemed normal. We were back in the jungle and life was good.
A few days into our trip, we were told that the Peruvian president had suspended all travel, both domestic and international until the end of March. Soon thereafter, I received a notification from the airlines that my return flight to the US had been cancelled. Then we learned that the US State Department issued a Stage 4 Travel Alert advising all US citizens to make arrangements to return to the US as soon as possible.
With the travel ban in place, we were not permitted to leave the jungle without proper documentation and authorization from the Peruvian government. The lodge we were staying at did not have access to the internet. However, further up the Yanayacu River was a research lodge that had internet service. Our main objective at this time was to get back to Iquitos. We knew that our only way out of the country was from Iquitos to Lima, and Lima to the US. Each day we would travel up the river to the research lodge with internet access, where we would use our smartphones to send messages and make phone calls to our friends in Iquitos and our family in the US, asking for assistance to get the Peruvian government to grant us authorization to leave the jungle.
For as long as I can remember, the act of sketching has always been my primary coping tool when I needed to escape to an emotional place of comfort and inner peace. But my comfort tool would elude me on this trip. My mind would not calm down long enough for me to relax to be able to sketch, so journalling became my creative outlet.
Journal entries from the day I left the jungle.
Day 15 - Saturday, March 28th
Peruvian Amazon Jungle, Yanayacu River
The water grass is beginning to cover the Yanayacu River, closing off water passage and perhaps a sign that it’s time to leave the jungle and go home.
Yesterday was a difficult day for all of us, an emotional roller coaster.
Today is a new day with new hope. There may be a possibility of leaving the jungle today! Our Peruvian friends are working with government officials in Iquitos for safe passage from the jungle to Iquitos. They are working to having a policeman with the car scheduled to pick us up in San Joaquin, which is a small port town on the Amazon River. From there we will have the car with the policeman drive us to Iquitos which takes about two hours.
Hopefully my next posting will be from my hotel room in Iquitos.
Day 15 - Saturday, March 28th
Iquitos, Peru - Doubletree Hotel
SECOND POSTING
Yahoo!! We are in Iquitos!
The mosquito repellent has been replaced with a face mask!
I can honestly say that we spent the morning in the company of some amazing men, our Peruvian heroes...Dustin, Martin, Alfredo, Abran, and Harry. These men spent endless hours making phone calls and meeting with officials to ensure our safe passage out of the jungle.
There are no words to describe the feelings and joy that came over us when we saw Martin walk down the dirt path to greet us equipped with face masks and hand sanitizer. Accompanying Martin and Alfredo was the Peruvian Minister of Tourism.
The men graciously hauled all our belonging up the steep dirt path to the road where three small cars awaited us with three national police officers, one of which was a Lieutenant.
The drive took nearly two hours to get to our hotel destination. I was surprised that the Minister of Tourism and the police officers wanted to take selfies with us. It was a very joyous moment for all of us.
We are aware that this is just the first of many steps to get us home but we are full of gratitude and hope knowing that we will be back in the US soon.
Arriving at Port San Joaquin.
March 31 came and went. President Vizcarra extended the travel ban, issued a curfew, and mandated that everyone wear a mask. The entire country was on lockdown and armed military guards were stationed at every corner. We were told that the US Embassy was negotiating with the Peruvian government to authorize repatriation flights out of the country. But the limited flights were departing from Lima, nothing from Iquitos. Our days were spent confined to the hotel and countless hours contacting our elected official in the US asking for assistance in getting our names on one of those repatriation flights.
The reality of my life was being detained in a third world country with other travelers from around the globe with one common goal to get home! I endured the daily emotional rollercoaster of not knowing if our government was making progress in securing our safe passage home. Frustrated and anxious, I would walk the halls of the hotel to relieve the stress. I found myself spending most of my waking hours in my mind trying to make sense of what was happening. I was trying to grasp the enormity of a worldwide pandemic and imagining what it was going to be like once I was home. By this time, the United States had become the epicenter of the pandemic.
Another week of anxious waiting would pass until we received word that Nevada Senator Catherine Cortez-Masto had secured our names on a list for a seat on one of the repatriation flights from Iquitos to Lima and then to Washington, DC. Finally, I was going home.
Day 24 - Monday, April 6th
Iquitos, Peru - Doubletree Hotel
So, so grateful to be flying back to the US tomorrow. The US Embassy told us that the first phase of our flight from Iquitos to Lima will be on a small propeller plane. Because of the plane size, everyone is limited to 22 kilos (50 pounds total).
Spending my last night in Peru determining what to take and what to leave behind.
After 35+ hours of travel on five different planes, I returned home to Nevada, the birthplace of my mother, grandmother, and great-grandmother. Outside when it was safe to remove my mask, my lungs gratefully inhaled that familiar dry desert air. I was home!
Fourteen days of house quarantine provided me the time to reconnect with family and friends. It also afforded me the opportunity to retreat to my studio, my personal place of comfort. My mind was finally calm and I was ready to create an art piece that spoke of my experience in Peru during the start of the pandemic.
Art piece: Calabaza Mask, Morph2020.
For many reasons I chose the form of a mask as the foundation for this art piece. Morph2020 is about transformation and growth.
Upon my return home, the United States was experiencing an unprecedented health crisis, which quickly evolved into an economic crisis, followed by a plague of racial injustice. From the killing of Breonna Taylor to the suffocation of George Floyd, the citizens of our great nation were being exposed to the dark underbelly living amongst us in our communities. We were being forced to see the deep seeded prejudice behind the illusive mask that all men are created equal.
And then somehow the face mask became a political statement questioning a person’s individual right to expose and infect other people with their germs. So much unrest and so much division.
In my design, I chose a snake and butterfly because of what they symbolize.
Anaconda.
The green anaconda is the largest snake in the Amazon Rainforest. Wrapped around the edges of the mask, symbolizing transmutation - that we must first shed our inner poisons before we can more forward and feel comfortable in our skin.
Blue Morpho (outer wings).
The vivid Blue Morpho is one of the largest butterflies in the world and can be easily spotted flying in light-filled areas of the Amazon Rainforest. The life cycle of a butterfly represents the different stages of growth and transformation.
I sincerely believe that our country is in an uncomfortable yet historical growth phase right now and that the consciousness and soul of our nation is in transition. We are in that painful stage of the life cycle, exposing and transmuting the hate-filled poisons so we can evolve together and prosper together.
Photo/Jason Bean.
A fourth generation native Nevadan, Tia Flores is known for her culturally themed, pyrographic, calabaza sculptures that depict the vast beauty of the Nevada desert and its natural inhabitants.Her artwork has been featured on HGTV’s That’s Cleaver!, Voices of America, PBS Reno ArtEffects, and in Mary Lee Fulkerson’s Women Artists of the Great Basin. Tia’s designs are a reflection of her heritage from her maternal grandmother, her work captures the untamed characteristics of the Nevada desert. From her paternal grandmother, she incorporates the rich cultures of the Aztec and Navajo people and their love and appreciation of nature. Today, Tia works with Sierra Arts Foundation as their Program Director.
Thank you for visiting Humanities Heart to Heart, a program of Nevada Humanities. Any views or opinions represented in posts or content on the Humanities Heart to Heart webpage are personal and belong solely to the author or contributor and do not represent those of Nevada Humanities, its staff, or any donor, partner, or affiliated organization, unless explicitly stated. At no time are these posts understood to promote particular political, religious, or ideological points of view; advocate for a particular program or social or political action; or support specific public policies or legislation on behalf of Nevada Humanities, its staff, any donor, partner, or affiliated organization. Omissions, errors, or mistakes are entirely unintentional. Nevada Humanities makes no representations as to the accuracy or completeness of any information on these posts or found by following any link embedded in these posts. Nevada Humanities reserves the right to alter, update, or remove content on the Humanities Heart to Heart webpage at any time.