Crossing the border

Early morning. 5 a.m. The Triple Frontier of Brazil-Colombia-Peru on the Rio Amazonas.

It is still dark when the boat slips into the docks of the village of Santa Rosa, on the banks of the river in Peru. We clamber out groggily to the officia de la policia. After handing over my documents, I am soon handed back my passport and think, ''That was easy.'' I get back on board.

Ten minutes later. ''Raimundo!'' yells out the customs officer.

After noone says anything I respond, Si senor?

''Migracion.''

I get back out the boat and am guided to another office. A candle provides the only light.

The officer looks at my passport, looks at me, and asks (in Spanish), ''Where`s your Brazil stamp?''

No stamp Brazil, I respond in my broken Spanish.

''You need a Brazil exit stamp to exit Brazil and a Peru entrance stamp to enter Peru.''

Stamp here for Brazil for Peru? I babble unintelligibly.

''No, you should have gotten a stamp in Brazil. You need to go back there and then I can let you in Peru.``

No Iquitos boat go?

''No.''

No?

The officer sighs. The candle flickers. A mosquito buzzes.

He looks at me again and states, in English, ''Twenty dollars.''

Que? I respond in Spanish.

''Twenty dollars and you go to Iquitos today.''

Oh. OH! (I get it.)

I take out $20, hand it over and a big smile crosses the officer`s face. He puts the dollars in a drawer, stamps my passport, wishes me a good stay in Peru, asks where I`m going (commenting on the beauty of Machu Picchu) and wishes me, ''Good voyages!'' in English.

I step outside. A rooster crows. The sun is rising.