The Amazon

Volunteering at Kawsay Biological Station challenged me in ways I never expected—and became the most grounding, rewarding and perspective-shifting experience of my life.

A remote research station reached by a two-hour boat journey from Puerto Maldonado.

There, I helped scientists with wildlife research, following jaguar and ocelot tracks and stumbling across squirrel monkeys and black spider monkeys in dense, gloriously green rainforest.

Nothing about life at the station was luxurious. Electricity, refrigeration, food and other supplies were limited and carefully conserved. The conditions were confronting at first, but they also became an important part of the experience, one I remain exceptionally grateful for and would not change.

Four girls in the jungle

I shared a dorm with three girls who very quickly felt like family: Kiera from the United States, Verena from Germany and Sonali from the United Kingdom. It still amazes me how quickly people can become close when they are thrown into a completely unfamiliar world together. Our beds were thin, porous mattresses. On my first night, Kiera casually informed me that I should spray mine with insect repellent and light incense underneath it to discourage sandflies from biting through the mattress while I slept. I was, to put it mildly, a tad mortified. Each bed was protected by a mosquito net—although ours came with patches of mould, spiderwebs and several small residents. I soon learned to appreciate the spiders because they caught mosquitoes and other insects before they could find their way inside. Even the enormous, hairy tarantulas around the cabins became strangely reassuring. We were told they helped keep more medically dangerous wandering spiders away, so the general attitude became: the more tarantulas, the better. That was not a sentence I ever imagined myself believing.

#### Life at the station

We took cold showers and used electricity sparingly. Meals were simple: bread with fried cheese, oatmeal, lentils, rice and cheese, occasionally vegetables and, more rarely, meat because keeping fresh food refrigerated was difficult. Sundays became one of my favourite days. That was when the supply boat arrived. We would gather by the river, wait for it to appear and form a human chain to unload everything we needed for the week. We then took turns carrying the supplies into camp. The locals and other volunteers brought warmth and humour to even the most ordinary tasks. In a place with so few familiar comforts, community became its own kind of comfort.

#### Coffee above the trees

My favourite part of the morning was taking my coffee up to the canopy tower—a tall water tower overlooking the treetops surrounding the station. Up there, the rainforest felt endless. I would watch hummingbirds dart between branches, spider monkeys move through the trees and parrots sweep overhead. It was peaceful in a way that is difficult to describe. At night, the same tower became something else entirely. Without the lights of towns or cities, the sky appeared almost unreal.

#### The coldest night

One of the hardest nights came during a friaje, a sudden Amazonian cold spell. The temperature dropped to around 7–8°C as heavy rain and wind moved through the forest. Our cabin did not have solid walls. It was enclosed with thin mesh to keep out mosquitoes and other insects, but it could do very little against wind or rain. We had only sheets on our beds, and the cold seemed to pass straight through the building. It was an extremely long and uncomfortable night. Yet even that experience became part of what made the Amazon unforgettable: nothing could be taken for granted—not warmth, dryness, electricity or a comfortable place to sleep.

#### The swamp and the macaws

Another particularly testing moment came during a research trek when we had to cross a genuine Amazonian swamp. The water reached my chest, and the crossing took about ten minutes. My imagination was enthusiastically reminding me that this was habitat shared with caimans, snakes and plenty of other creatures I preferred not to meet while chest-deep in murky water. Halfway across, however, something extraordinary happened. Our supervisor, Roxanna, Sonali and I stopped and looked up. Above us, an enormous flock of blue macaws appeared through the trees. They circled, called and soared overhead while we stood completely still in the middle of the swamp, watching them for what felt like five suspended minutes. Roxanna had lived at the station for more than a year and told us she had never seen such a large flock together so deep in the rainforest. It felt incredibly special—one of those rare moments when you know, as it is happening, that you will remember it for the rest of your life. We eventually made it to the other side. I was wet, exhausted and genuinely proud of myself. More than anything, I was grateful to be there.

#### What the Amazon gave me

This was the most difficult, eye-opening and mind-altering trip I have ever taken—and it remains my favourite. It showed me a way of living far removed from my own and made me recognise how many comforts I had accepted without thought: a warm shower, a soft bed, solid walls, reliable electricity and a refrigerator filled with fresh food. I returned home with a much deeper appreciation for those things, but also with the understanding that fulfilment does not always come from having more. At the station, life was stripped back to its essentials: purposeful work, shared meals, friendship, nature and looking after one another. I am careful not to turn someone else’s reality into a simple lesson about my own privilege. What I carried home was a stronger awareness of how fortunate I am—and a feeling that gratitude should influence the way I live, not simply make me feel guilty. The Amazon reminded me of my very small place in an enormous world. It grounded me, challenged me and made me want to keep learning from unfamiliar people, places and ways of life. I do not expect every experience to transform me completely, but I hope each one can help me become a little more thoughtful, appreciative and open—or, at the very least, encourage me to keep trying to be better. I would not change a single thing.