The super friendly family coming out to say goodbye.

In addition to growing various things, they also pick Brazil nuts, but go into the jungle to do so, wading through water to gather fallen pods.

The family's fifteen year old daughter smiles as we leave to go back to the lodge.

Mo felt that about 70% of the families in this region were Indian, and that they spoke Portuguese and a combination of Portuguese and Indian.

We got back to the lodge and checked our washed clothes to see if they were dry, a daily ritual for those of us staying at the lodge.  This morning had been mostly overcast, with thunder in the distance, and it had rained a little last night.  Our clothes, even our pillow cases, were taking a long time to dry.  My washed socks hung for two days before completely drying.

While at the plantation, we found that they were playing their Sunday football match against one of the neighboring villages.  We asked to go.  And so in the afternoon, we set out for the football field.  By boat, of course.

On the way to the football match, Mo's ever-keen eye was ever on the lookout, somehow spotting this three-toed sloth perched high up in the tree and completely still, where they often stayed for most of the day, safe from predators.  And should a predator mess with it, the sloth had some formidable hooked claws waiting for them.

Often, even after Mo pointed out the sloths, we'd struggle to spot it, as they blended with the tree quite well.