Vichyssoise. The first time I had a healthy chilled soup, my third grade vocabulary bastardized the pronunciation. My ever so proper grandmother corrected me by rounding her lips and whispering a drawn out Alison it’s viiishy swaaaa. In the sweltering August heat, we were on our annual trek into Manhattan to buy my winter coat at Bonwit Tellers.
As we approached Iquitos from the air, the river snaked below and started to come into focus. Colored shades of coffee, chai and caramel, it forked and stretched into the distance as far as the eye could see. I started to imagine the adventure ahead. For the next 5 days, I would be off the grid responsibly cruising Peru’s Amazon in luxury.
Stepping off the plane, I was immediately struck by the humidity. Almost oppressive with intensity, I recalled the cold temperatures back home and immediately chilled out.
