Nuts about Peru’s Tambopata National Reserve

by Laurel Miller on

Nuts–if you think about these things, which evidently I do–evoke blustery fall afternoons, or wintery evenings before a roaring fire. You bust out the nutcracker, and get to work. At least, that’s what my family did when I was a kid, even though I grew up in Southern California where, let’s face it, the weather is seldom blustery. Anyways, we always had a lot of Brazil nuts in the communal bowl, and consequently, they’re one of my favorites. They’re big and easy to crack, with rich, oily meat.

Nuts have been associated with the winter solstice since Medieval times (they provided much-needed fat and nutrients). What most of us don’t associate nuts with are steaming jungles, machetes, or endangered wildlife. I certainly didn’t, until I visited the Brazil nut camp in Tambopata National Reserve (TNR), in Peru’s Amazon Basin.

The Tambopata is a tributary of the Amazon, and the 275,000-hectare Reserve is home to some of the world’s most diverse and pristine rainforest. This conservation area, and the adjacent Bahuaja-Sonene National Park were designated by the Peruvian government to protect the watersheds of the Tambopata and Candamo Rivers. Rainforest Expeditions operates three Puerto Maldonado region eco-lodges within the confines of the Reserve: the Posada Amazonas and Refugio Amazonas eco-lodges, and the Tambopata Research Center. It’s at Refugio that one can visit the Brazil nut camp, and harvest the nuts (April through July).

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Even if nuts aren’t your thing, there are plenty of other reasons to visit. The area is noted for its wildlife, especially birds. If there’s an active nest, there are tours to check out endangered harpy eagles (they live in Brazil nut trees), or hike to clay licks teeming with macaws or parakeets. That may not sound thrilling, but it’s an amazing sight to see (and hear) that many explosively colorful birds in one spot.

Rainforest Expeditions integrates its jungle properties with educational/voluntourism experiences for adults and families. Besides the clay licks, activities include forest walks, wildlife viewing, philanthropic visits to local communities, seminars on the ecology and biology of the region, kayaking, catch-and-release piranha fishing, or cooking with the indigenous staff (an activity reserved for rainy weather, and something I really enjoyed, from a cultural standpoint).

Refugio is located in a 200-hectare private reserve (which is adjacent to the greater Reserve, you see). To get there, one must fly into the tiny jungle port of Puerto Maldonado from Lima. From there, it’s an hour drive to the boat launch in the indigenous community of Infierno, which works in partnership with the Posada Amazonas Lodge. The Refugio property is a two-and-a half-hour trip upriver, through a park ranger checkpoint.

The gorgeous, four-year-old, open-air lodge is built from traditional native materials such as wood, palm fronds, wild cane, and clay. It has a communal dining room with a bar (yes!), and clean, breezy rooms with gauzy, mosquito-netted beds. There are also luxe touches, like the pretty little guest soaps made of–wait for it–Brazil nuts. The food–a daily buffet of international and Peruvian dishes, and loads of fresh fruit, far surpasses what you might expect. Some of the produce comes from organic farmer Don Manuel, across the river. He grows tropical and citrus fruits, yucca, and chiles; on his farm tours, (if you love food, definitely go for it), you can sample Amazonian fruits such as cupuaçu and pacay.

Getting back to nuts, the brazil nut camp is a concession owned by the Peruvian government, although a local indigenous family has rights to the nut harvest. There are thousands of Brazil nut concessions in this region. They’re an important cash crop that provides the local families with income, which also helps to protect the Reserve from slash-and burn-agriculture.
The local Ese’eja, as well as other indigenous peoples of mestizo and Andean descent, live within four communities in the buffer zone of the Reserve. Many are employed by Rainforest Expeditions (the company tries to hire as many local people as possible), or harvest Brazil nuts during the wet season.

The nuts are technically an edible seed, clusters of which are found within thick seed pods. The trees don’t make good timber, although they are tapped for rubber in the dry season. They’re considered one of the most sustainable crops because their harvest and tapping have little ecological impact, especially in areas where hunting is prohibited or restricted during harvest season.

Brazil nut trees are an interdependent species, because they rely upon several animals to perpetuate their life cycle. Agoutis and other rodent species eat the nuts, spreading seeds in their droppings. A species of rainforest-dwelling bee is necessary to pollinate the trees, which is why they aren’t cultivated.

It turned out I’d just missed the harvest, but I walked the short trail to the deserted camp to check it out–basically, some leftover seed pods in a small clearing. Back at the lodge, however, Brazil seed pod cracking is like an Olympic sport, in part because it brings out the competitive spirit. They’re exceedingly difficult to open, necessitating a scimitar-like machete and serious hand-eye coordination- something I am seriously lacking. I finally managed to whack one apart without losing any digits, and made use of the lodge’s industrial-strength, communal nutcracker. You see a lot of people walking around, picking Brazil nuts or bits of shell out of their teeth.

The handsome, coconut-like pods turn up all over the lodge in the form of napkin holders, and votive-receptacles on recycled wood chandeliers. At the Puerto Maldonado airport, you can find Brazil nut candy, and oil, which is intoxicating, with a smooth, clean, complex flavor. Unfortunately, it has such a short shelf life that it isn’t suitable for the export market, but it’s worth bringing a bottle home with you (I honestly have no idea if Customs permits this, but that’s never stopped me before). Use it to dress salads, or drizzle on roasted potatoes or root vegetables.

Refugio and its sister properties may take some getting to, but if you’re looking for responsible, soft rainforest adventure, it’s well worth the trek.
All the more reason to load up that bowl with Brazil nuts.

Photo of the Day (9.7.10)

by Stephen Greenwood on
If you’re back to the grind and Labor Day is feeling too far away already, then take a moment to check out this beautiful photo series by Italian photographer, il lele.

The set spans a road trip from Chicago to Vegas on two-lane highways, capturing some classic American portraits & scenery with a distinct vintage tone. It’s always great to see photos of America from a non-American perspective, and il lele has certainly captured some great moments, like this beautiful ‘room with a view’ in Monument Valley.

Do you have a series of photos that tell a unique story? Share them with us! Upload them to our Gadling Flickr Pool and we might just choose one as our next Photo of the Day.

Photo of the Day (9.4.2010)

by Catherine Bodry on

One of my all-time favorite things in the whole world is riding second class buses in foreign countries. Though I could probably now afford to travel on a bigger budget than in my early 20s, I prefer the experiences of public transportation. It’s not just mingling with locals and experiencing eight hours bouncing on a bus with no shocks; I also love the sheer gaudiness of it all: the loud music or TV, bright lights, livestock, crowds – all of it delights me endlessly. And another thing I love about these buses? The decorations. Whether it’s idols and fringe in India, Mary figurines in Mexico or incense sticks in China, care is always taken to make sure the buses are decked out to the gods’ satisfaction. These buses, shot by Flickr user andreakw in Bhutan, also seem to be appeasing the wary traveler. Who doesn’t feel safe traveling on a bus painted with cheerful rainbows?

Have any travel photos that remind of you a few of your favorite things? Upload them to Gadling’s Flickr pool, and we just might select one for our Photo of the Day feature.

Hotel booking tips: 5 things you need to know before reserving group rates

by Amy Chen on

While in Los Angeles for my brother’s wedding, I was looking forward to staying at the Westlake Village Inn. But unfortunately, things went downhill even before we could check in.

Though the wedding itself was held off-site at a country club, a block of rooms were reserved at a discounted rate. With the group rate, I decided to treat myself to a suite with a king-size bed and gas fireplace (a little out of place in sunny L.A. but charming nonetheless).

But as I learned, hotels that cater to weddings and other special events can sometimes be under-staffed, leading guests who are not part of the event to fall through the cracks.

Here are 5 things you should know before reserving a group rate, which isn’t necessarily the best deal.

1. Your room might not be ready at check-in. Plan accordingly.

My family arrived promptly at check-in, which was at 3 p.m. The wedding rehearsal started at 5 p.m. at an off-site location. My family disbanded to shower and change, but my room wasn’t ready. So I left my cell phone number with the front desk so someone could notify me as soon as it was. I killed some time at one of the hotel bars, but an hour later, it was clear that the front desk wasn’t going to call.

While walking back to the lobby, I called the front desk, was put on hold, and then informed that my room was ready. By then I was already standing outside the lobby. But somehow during the few minutes when I hung up the phone and appeared again at the front desk, I was then told that my room still wasn’t ready. Sloppy service, but not a big deal, right?

After sorting out the confusion, I asked the front-desk manager what caused the delay. She told me that the hotel was fully booked the previous night and that “housekeeping just didn’t make it.” Hmm. You’d think that a hotel that caters to large wedding parties would anticipate the demand and be prepared with all hands on deck.

2. Group rates may equal inadequate service.

Under any other circumstances, these are minor inconveniences at best, but when you’re trying to get ready for a special event, you really do need the hotel to fulfill its end of the bargain. Or you may need to lower your standards.

After receiving my room key, I asked what the hotel typically offered guests whose rooms were not ready by check-in. Rather than apologizing for not having the room ready, the front-desk manager asked rather snottily: “What do you want? A bottle of wine or something?”

After I responded that I would accept anything that the hotel typically offers, she handed me one drink coupon even though there were two people staying in the room. I accepted the voucher, but didn’t end up redeeming it because we had already wasted an hour at the bar.

By the time I brought my luggage to the room, it was 4:15 p.m. — no time to shower. I threw on a dress, changed my shoes, and left the hotel annoyed but more concerned about not being late.

3. Housekeeping may not have time to clean your room.

The next day, I went for a morning swim and out for lunch. I returned to my room around 2 p.m. only to find that housekeeping hadn’t arrived yet. After two phone calls to the front desk to request more towels so I could actually shower before the ceremony, a hotel employee knocked on my door — 30 minutes later. By then, I’d already gone into the hallway to find someone who could give me towels. In those 30 minutes, it would’ve been faster for me to fetch spare towels from the pool — or to drive to the nearby mall and buy myself a new set.

After contacting Westlake Village Inn’s general manager after my underwhelming stay, I was told that a reasonable time to expect fresh towels was 15 minutes after the initial request. During any other visit, the slow service would’ve been mildly irritating. In my case, the sloppy service was interfering with my plans. I needed to drive to the wedding site by 4 p.m. Had I waited for housekeeping to arrive, I would’ve been late. Want fresh towels? You might have to get them yourself.

4. If you’re looking for great service, call ahead and ask if any large groups, conventions, or special events are scheduled during your hotel stay.

If you’re on a tight schedule, you may need to factor in some buffer time — or pick another hotel that can accommodate your schedule.

During my stays on a Friday and Saturday night, there were three on-site weddings each day. That’s a lot. It turns out that the Westlake Village Inn hosts about 200 weddings per year. I can see why the hotel is so popular; the grounds are lovely.

But as a guest who wasn’t part of the on-site wedding festivities, my simple requests sunk to the bottom of the heap. Is it really too much to expect that my room is ready by the stated check-in time or that I have clean towels in the room?

5. Don’t assume the group rate is the best deal.

If I’d known in advance just how under-staffed the Westlake Village Inn was going to be, I would’ve booked the Four Seasons Hotel Westlake Village, where my brother had also reserved a block of rooms.

Or maybe I should’ve listened to my sister: She went to Priceline and successfully bid on a $62 room at the simple but pleasant Renaissance hotel about a 5-minute drive away — that’s about one-third of the price that I paid for my hotel, and with much better service, too.

Vietnamese street food tastes better by motorbike

by Laurel Miller on

There are few things I enjoy more than perching on a plastic, Playskool-size stool on a steaming sidewalk, surrounded by clouds of carbon monoxide. Why do I so enjoy impersonating a contortionist and inhaling carcinogens? Because it means I’m somewhere in Southeast Asia, eating street food.

On my first visit to Vietnam, I flew up to Nha Trang, on the South Central Coast. I found a cheap hotel several blocks off the beach, and set about giving myself a crash course in Vietnamese street food. I was familiar with staples such as pho and banh mi (baguette sandwiches with pork pate and a variety of condiments). Yet I was soon overwhelmed by the array of comestibles being hawked from carts and storefronts, despite frequent thumbing through my Vietnamese food guide.

Compounding the issue was the lack of recognizability of many of the ingredients. No one could ever accuse me of being squeamish, but I like to know what I’m eating, if only for curiosity’s sake. The mysterious, meaty hunks stewing in battered, aluminum stockpots, and hanging behind Plexi-glass shields gave no indication as to their origin. Clearly, I needed someone to help me achieve Vietnamese street food cred.

%Gallery-100653%I had already planned to visit the Evason Ana Mandara & Six Senses Spa later in the week, because they had a well-regarded “street market dinner.” Since 2003, a gaggle of local women–all food vendors known for their version of a specific dish–prepare their respective specialties at one of the property’s three restaurants. It’s a fun way to educate less-adventurous guests about traditional Vietnamese cuisine. The bi-weekly dinners provide steady income for the women and their families, which is critical during inclement weather.

The privately-owned Evason-Soneva luxury property group has a core philosophy of green building design and operations, and emphasizes the hiring of local people in order to support the economy. They also make donations of revenue proceeds to community social projects, including education and health care for children.

Much of the produce and botanicals used in the restaurants and spa treatments are from the sustainable gardens at nearby (stunning) sister property, Six Senses Hideaway at Ninh Van Bay. Ana Mandara also offers market tours and cooking classes as a way to introduce guests to regional Vietnamese cuisine and ingredients.

When I finally checked in to Ana Mandara, I asked if they offered personalized food tours through one of the local guides they contract. And that’s how I found myself on the back of a motorbike at sunset, whizzing through the back streets on my very own tasting tour of Nha Trang.

My 29-year old guide, Nguyen Quoc Nam, was born and raised in Nha Trang. He took me to some of the city’s best spots for eating regional dishes–most of them popular street foods. Our first stop was the poetically-named, sidewalk eatery Phúc, which specializes in banh canh, a fish and rice vermicelli soup. The rickety sidewalk tables were crowded with patrons enthusiastically slurping soup and fried mackerel head–the other specialty of the house.

Like most Vietnamese, Nam is obsessed with food. Throughout our three-hour feeding frenzy, he gave me the history, preparation method, and eating technique for every dish we sampled. We ate banh beo, “leaves” of rice noodles topped with succulent grilled pork, herbs, and chile; sinh to, fresh fruit and yogurt shakes; banh xeo, lacy rice flour, coconut milk, and turmeric crepes stuffed with grilled squid, shrimp, quail egg, and bean sprouts, and chao tom, grilled, seasoned, ground shrimp on sugar cane skewers.

At lively Quan 52, the sidewalk tables were wreathed in aromatic smoke from an adjacent grill. We were served a plate of still-sizzling strips of pork, which we used to make nem, a kind of DIY spring roll. We soaked crisp rice paper sheets in water, then layered them with the meat, nuoc nam, julienned cucumber and green banana, pickled shallots, rau hung (spearmint), diếp cá (fish mint), and ngo gai (saw leaf herb). I was utterly hopeless at constructing the tidy little packages made by fellow diners; even Nam seemed amazed by my lack of fine motor skills. Fortunately, my appetite compensates in these situations.

Our final stop was Pho Bo 81. Despite being painfully full, I managed to devour their heavenly pho (traditionally a beef noodle soup from Hanoi, it’s a staple throughout Vietnam and can also be made with chicken). The restorative broth was greaseless and fragrant, redolent of lime, chile, and star anise.

The next morning, Nam took me on a motorbike tour of the villages and rice paddies in the surrounding countryside. Rice is more than just the staple of Vietnamese cuisine, although it is eaten at every meal in some form. Rice is also intricately linked to the country’s culture, folklore, festivals, and social mores. Around noon, Nam pulled the bike up to a roadside shack beside the Cau Lung Bridge. There, we ate plate after plate of banh uot, a Nha Trang specialty of steamed rice noodle sheets, garnished with powdered dried shrimp and scallions.

After lunch, we visited Dien Thuy village, where I helped make rice paper at the home of a woman who supplies the local community. She soaked, then milled the rice by hand, Next, she mixed it with water to make a batter, and poured frisbee-sized circles onto a bamboo and cloth steamer fueled by the rice husks. The disks were then set to dry on woven bamboo ladders.

Next, we visited the Vinh family, who operate a small rice noodle factory out of their home. Outside of the major cities, rice paper and noodles are made in similar factories, often by hand (the Vinh’s had just purchased a machine to cut the noodles). It’s repetitive, exhausting, time-consuming work. My two-day motorbike journey took me into the origins of not just my beloved street food, but the very soul of Vietnamese culture.

Ana Mandara’s culinary motorbike tours are approximately $40.00, and are offered only by personal request. Cooking classes and market tours also available.

Click here to learn how to make banh cuon (steamed rice crepes with ground pork and mushrooms).