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I start off on the path with everyone else. We're in the Amazon rain forest, trying to hear the call of the macaw -- but all I can hear is talk of redecorating a bathroom back home. As if that's not bad enough, the boisterous laugh of our hospitable English-speaking guide scares away any possibility of seeing howler monkeys or toucans. So when a member of our group tells me that he's hired a local guide for the day to help him get lost, I jump at the chance. This is something I've always had an affinity for, something I've always excelled at, what my family and friends fear -- getting lost.

We begin at 4:30 a.m., in the pitch black. The fact that I can barely see, coupled with my oversized black rubber boots, creates a problematic walking scenario. With my first step, I trip over a branch. How am I going to do this for eight hours? Our guide, Leo, is already way ahead of me, so I have no choice but to charge ahead, trusting the ground beneath me. Amplified by the darkness, the birds and insects and monkeys sing around me. When the sun begins to rise, I am a little disappointed.

In a dug-out canoe, we paddle across a lagoon. Fog hovers just above the water and, except for the motion of the paddle, everything is perfectly still. When we reach the other end of the lake, I get up to step onto the shore when I hear the guide say something in Spanish. My foot is about to touch down when my friend translates, "Watch out, that's quicksand."

Once we're safely past the quicksand, our guide carves us each a walking stick. I want to decline, thinking it's just another thing to carry, but I don't want to offend him. At first it keeps getting in the way and I end up dragging it on the ground. Eventually I have to concentrate on walking again and the stick falls into place. Right, left, stick. Later on we encounter more quicksand and we have to walk ever so carefully over giant logs; now the stick comes in handy, helping me create a sort of tripod.

Unfortunately, my traveling companion has an unexpected run-in with his stick. Our guide has cut each end of the stick to a point (I'm not quite sure why, but at one point there was talk of wild boar) and my friend scrapes his chin while catching his fall. Though the cut is hardly life-threatening, it bleeds an awful lot. No problem. Leo rolls up some leaves that form a white paste, which he explains is a natural antiseptic.

Next page | But what happens when Leo gets lost?