We patiently waited at long tables, with smells from the kitchen sneaking into dinning room. I swear there must have been a puddle on the floor I was drooling so much. When the platters came out and were sat on the table I wanted to run over and just dive in. There was fresh fried fish, and fried manioc that just kept coming. But the best part was the shrimp dish that you put over your white rice. This little kitchen in the middle of the rainforest served us some of the best food on our trip. Tradition seems to keep this good food going. Indigenous knowledge isn’t something that comes in jars, but passed down from generation to generation and is the best seasoning.