Dear Reader, I almost didn't write this. Not because I don't have words. But because some experiences ask us to remain silent long enough for language to become honest. For weeks, I opened this document in my mind, wrote a paragraph, deleted it. Again, and again. How do you write about something that divided your life into a before and an after? But then, I thought, there is something very radical about writing anything in AI times. So here I am… And I’ll do my best not to ev

People often ask me what happens in the Amazon. They're expecting me to describe ceremonies, wildlife, beautiful rivers, or Indigenous villages. Of course, those things are part of the experience. But if I'm honest, that's rarely what people remember. What stays with them are the moments no itinerary could ever promise. The silence after the rain. A child laughing from the riverbank. The smell of the earth after an afternoon storm. Looking up at a Samaúma tree and realizing y

Some places ask you to slow down. The Amazon asks you to remember. Not remember facts or history, but something much older—the part of yourself that knows how to listen before speaking, observe before judging, and belong instead of consume. That is why I created INSamaúma. Not as a travel company, but as a bridge between worlds. For more than seventeen years, I've worked alongside Indigenous communities in the Brazilian Amazon, learning from elders, supporting community-led i