In September 2019, we sent Rasha Aridi to the Peruvian Amazon as our first-ever Conservation Storytelling Fellow. The brainchild of SciFari founders (and Atlas Obscura trip leaders) Jason Goldman and Phil Torres, the mission was to send a student into the field to report a story of their own. Under the excellent guidance of Jason, Phil, and big cat biologist Imogene Cancellare, Rasha spent a week immersed in the rainforest. Along the way, she developed a lasting love for the Amazon, its wildlife, and its people. Here, she shares a snapshot of her experience.

Three days into my rainforest adventure, I still had trouble wrapping my mind around the fact that I was actually in the Amazon—a place I’d learned about from documentaries and articles but never imagined visiting. I remember the moment when reality finally set in: I was jolted out of my dreamy haze by the loud squawks of hundreds of macaws at Collpa Chuncho, a clay lick we visited to observe wildlife.

The activity at the collpa was the most beautiful, organized chaos I have ever witnessed. I listened to the macaws’ shrilly calls echo across the clearing, felt them rattle the trees above us, and heard their wings flap as they swooped down to the collpa. They adorned the claylick with quick, vibrant flashes of color, as if flaunting their beauty. In the midst of that spectacle, I knew that I was existing in the most surreal place on Earth.

But that feeling of awe suddenly turned into a moment of realization: I’d never thought of macaws as being wild animals before. Until that point, I’d only seen them in pet stores or as photo-ops for tourists, and it hurt my heart to think about these gloriously free birds confined to cages or used as props. I remember thinking: If only everyone could see these birds as I see them right now, they’d never harm them or the rainforest again.

When I told Jason about my emotional realization and love for this place, he looked at me and said, “Well, that’s why we brought you here.”

I never thought I would travel to the Amazon, but suddenly I was there working on a story under the guidance of incredible mentors. I eagerly spoke to locals, gathered first person accounts, and learned about how ecotourism helped support community development and conservation. I sat down with guides, lodge staff, and locals and listened as they shared personal stories of how ecotourism transformed local livelihoods and the rainforest. The more I learned about the Amazon, the more I grew to love it. Within a few days, Tambopata—the national reserve we visited—became my favorite place on Earth.

The experience moved me to want to share the jungle’s magic with the world and inspire people to care more about the rainforest, just as this trip had done for me. At the end of the week, I wasn’t ready to leave the jungle, and I knew I had to find a way to return again.

Back home, I applied for and received a grant from Virginia Tech to work with the Macaw Society at the Tambopata Research Center, an ecolodge we stayed at in September, to study macaw behavior and development.

In December I arrived in Tambopata again, but this time for a month. Coming back to the rainforest felt familiar—I recognized trails and landmarks, I knew my way around the lodge, and I greeted the wildlife like old friends. But this time, I wasn’t a tourist—I was here to work.

It felt extra special to study macaws, the very species that first ignited my love for the Amazon. As a field assistant, I spent all day collecting data in the forest: walking the trails, listening for calls, and monitoring nests. Soon enough, I started climbing the hundred-foot trees to reach the nest boxes installed in them. I would climb to the top, open the nest box, and take out the chicks for my team to measure on the ground. Nothing in the world can compare to dangling a hundred feet in the air, suspended in the rainforest canopy. 

Throughout the month, I got to know the forest well—the good, the bad, and especially the ugly. A typical day consisted of getting stuck in knee-deep mud, caught in rainstorms, or swarmed by hair-cutter bees mid-climb. Despite it all, I felt lucky to call the Amazon my home for a month, as it taught me something new each day.

It’s easy to forget that we exist on the same planet as these wild, beautiful places and that our actions have consequences that ripple through the Earth, destroying areas like the Amazon. The threats to the rainforest feel endless: gold mining, poaching, logging, slash-and-burn agriculture, palm oil production, infrastructure development, overfishing.  More than 20 percent of the Amazon is already gone, and I cannot bear the thought of losing one more tree. Tambopata reminded me how delicately balanced nature is, setting me on a personal mission to bring awareness to conservation issues. As a journalist, these are the stories I want to tell—to show people a glimmer of the Earth’s magic, inspiring them to care more about this place we call home.

The Conservation Storytelling Fellowship challenged me as a journalist and a learner. I experienced the greatest adventures, learned from the best mentors, and left the rainforest with enough inspiration to last a lifetime. I’m so thankful that Atlas Obscura and SciFari took a chance on a lucky student, and I can’t wait for the day I return to my favorite place.