As I wandered through the bustling market in Belém, Brazil, I found myself baffled by the array of exotic fruits on display. What were bacuri, buriti, and muruci? And what about mangaba, tucumã, and uxi? My phone's translation app told me that uxi was a Zulu word meaning "you are," but it didn't offer much help with the other unfamiliar names.
But then I started to recognize some of the names from my six-week journey down the Amazon. I had picked up an açaí berry pod in a Colombian village 1,900 miles upstream, and later, in Peru, I had seen açaí growing on wild palms high up in the Andes. The Amazon seemed vast and varied, but also remarkably similar along its incredible length.
My adventure began with a conference on sustainable tourism in Peru, where Belém was chosen as the host for the Cop30 conference. Determined to reduce my carbon footprint, I set off downriver on public riverboats, seeking out local people working to preserve the Amazonian environment. Along the way, I did night walks with guides who blasted herbal concoctions up my nose, swam across rivers (and enjoyed plenty of electric eel stories), and repeatedly found myself disoriented by not knowing which country I was in.
The idea that tourism could help combat climate change and biodiversity loss is fraught with problems. Flying is a major contributor to CO2 emissions, and luxury tourism can be a significant strain on local resources. But what about sustainable tourism? Could it provide an alternative way of exploring the Amazon without causing harm?
In Manaus, I met a young schoolboy who had been given the option of becoming a rancher or a tour guide. He preferred the latter, as he wanted to work in the tourism industry and share his knowledge of the Amazon with visitors. This struck me as a positive development, but it also raised questions about the impact of tourism on local communities.
As I explored Belém's markets and islands, I discovered that sustainable tourism was having a positive effect on some communities. Local farmers were growing açaí berries, which were commanding good prices in restaurants and cafes. The Amazonian fruit had even helped save one village from economic decline by providing an alternative source of income for the residents.
But there are still challenges to be addressed. Overblown hyperbole about superfoods has tarnished the reputation of some Amazonian fruits, like açaí. And while local demand is strong, prices can be unpredictable. Nevertheless, it's heartening to see that sustainable tourism is helping to preserve the Amazon's secrets and provide an alternative way of exploring this incredible ecosystem.
As I looked out at the vast expanse of the Amazon River, I realized that there's still much to learn about this vast and varied environment. And yet, despite its challenges, the Amazon remains a source of hope and inspiration for those working towards sustainability and conservation.
But then I started to recognize some of the names from my six-week journey down the Amazon. I had picked up an açaí berry pod in a Colombian village 1,900 miles upstream, and later, in Peru, I had seen açaí growing on wild palms high up in the Andes. The Amazon seemed vast and varied, but also remarkably similar along its incredible length.
My adventure began with a conference on sustainable tourism in Peru, where Belém was chosen as the host for the Cop30 conference. Determined to reduce my carbon footprint, I set off downriver on public riverboats, seeking out local people working to preserve the Amazonian environment. Along the way, I did night walks with guides who blasted herbal concoctions up my nose, swam across rivers (and enjoyed plenty of electric eel stories), and repeatedly found myself disoriented by not knowing which country I was in.
The idea that tourism could help combat climate change and biodiversity loss is fraught with problems. Flying is a major contributor to CO2 emissions, and luxury tourism can be a significant strain on local resources. But what about sustainable tourism? Could it provide an alternative way of exploring the Amazon without causing harm?
In Manaus, I met a young schoolboy who had been given the option of becoming a rancher or a tour guide. He preferred the latter, as he wanted to work in the tourism industry and share his knowledge of the Amazon with visitors. This struck me as a positive development, but it also raised questions about the impact of tourism on local communities.
As I explored Belém's markets and islands, I discovered that sustainable tourism was having a positive effect on some communities. Local farmers were growing açaí berries, which were commanding good prices in restaurants and cafes. The Amazonian fruit had even helped save one village from economic decline by providing an alternative source of income for the residents.
But there are still challenges to be addressed. Overblown hyperbole about superfoods has tarnished the reputation of some Amazonian fruits, like açaí. And while local demand is strong, prices can be unpredictable. Nevertheless, it's heartening to see that sustainable tourism is helping to preserve the Amazon's secrets and provide an alternative way of exploring this incredible ecosystem.
As I looked out at the vast expanse of the Amazon River, I realized that there's still much to learn about this vast and varied environment. And yet, despite its challenges, the Amazon remains a source of hope and inspiration for those working towards sustainability and conservation.