I'd just stepped onto the balcony of my hotel room when I was struck by a dreamlike sight common in this remote part of the world -- a pink dolphin leaped out of the pitch-black lagoon below, as if to greet me. The dolphin gave a squeaky hello and then slipped back into the water. This, of course, was no ordinary hotel, and no ordinary vacation. I was at the Jungle Othon Palace, a resort that floats on water deep within the Amazon jungle.
Venturing into the jungle was my way to escape the routine of everyday life in Sao Paulo, the congested city of 10 million stressed-out souls that I call home. From Sao Paulo I flew north to Manaus, a decaying 19th-century rubber-boom town, which was once the richest city in South America. Outside Manaus I boarded a comfortable tour boat for a trip along the Rio Negro, one of the Amazon River's chief tributaries. In spots, the Negro is as deep as 300 feet; its black water reflected the hot midday sun as we set our course into the jungle's vast green expanse.
After about an hour, the boat motored into a small, intimate lagoon surrounded by a hodgepodge of Brazil nut, rubber, mahogany, and cow trees. Ahead of us loomed what seemed like a mirage -- a tidy three-story resort hotel with a neoclassical facade sitting on a floating barge. After a few days in the tropics, I would come to appreciate the Jungle Othon Palace's air-conditioning, well-stocked bar, and competently executed international cuisine. But the regulation-size floating tennis court wasn't for me. Piranha fishing would be my leisure activity, I decided.
On my fishing outing, I was accompanied by an Italian executive, his family, and our lanky guide Mario. I was hardly the first American to seek out the ravenous piranha. In 1914, after leaving the Oval Office, Teddy Roosevelt journeyed here and developed an obsession with the fish. He wrote of their "razor-edged teeth" that will drive through "flesh and bone." Perhaps TR had heard of the Amazonian wranglers who, when crossing a stream, cut up a sacrificial animal to attract piranhas away from the rest of the herd. Mario nuzzled the boat along the river's muddy edge. With our makeshift Huck Finn rods -- tree branches, fishing lines, rusty hooks, and slivers of raw fish for bait -- we had a fine few hours bringing in about a dozen yellowish-red piranhas. If you think fishing in the Amazon isn't your typical Field & Stream outing, try hiking through the jungle. As my other guide Ceara and I entered the forest, rays of sunlight crept through to nourish the thick underbrush. Ceara walked up to an ant nest that bulged from a tree trunk and allowed dozens of its denizens to swarm over his hands. He then rubbed his hands together, squashing the insects. "That's the smell of the forest," he told me. "We do this to conceal our scent." Locals claimed that a prowling jaguar was making late-night snacks of their watchdogs. I guess we weren't taking any chances.
Next, Ceara showed me what he called the "Vicks VapoRub" tree. It really does smell like the store-bought ointment. Locals scrape off its bark, boil it, and inhale the steam to alleviate congestion. As we walked along, he showed me dozens of other fascinating items in his jungle medicine chest -- like the rosewood tree. It reportedly provides the essence of Chanel No. 5. Seriously.
The natural wonders of the Amazon don't end in the jungle. They also make their way onto your plate -- or into your bowl, in this case. Back at the hotel, as I sipped some mojica, a fish chowder, I recalled how our adventurous former president had written that piranhas were "fairly good to eat." The likelihood that these flesh-eating creatures had found their way into my soup made it even tastier.
BUNGLE IN THE JUNGLE You probably shouldn't venture into the Amazon jungle without some guidance. Try one of the leading Brazilian ecotourism operators, FreeWay Adventures (11-5088-0999; freeway.tur.br).
ONE FOR THE ROAD The city of Manaus makes a great launchpad into the jungle. For a quick pick-me-up before you embark, hit the colorful Bar do Armando (92-232-1195; Rua 10 de julho, 593-Centro), a well-known pub frequented by artists, intellectuals, and other assorted misfits on the main square near the opera house.
