The shaman’s chant mixed with the sound of a thousand invisible insects while I purged into a bucket, thinking “This is it. I’ve finally lost the plot.” But here’s the thing – that night in the Peruvian Amazon changed everything I thought I knew about healing, consciousness, and why we travel in the first place.

After 17 years of bouncing between hostels, dodging tuk-tuks in Bangkok, and pretending to understand wine in France, I’ve developed some strong opinions about the travel industry. And mate, nothing divides the backpacker community quite like ayahuasca tourism in Peru. Some call it life-changing medicine. Others reckon it’s just another way for gringos to get high in the jungle.

I’m firmly in the first camp. Fight me.

The Iquitos Phenomenon: More Than Just Jungle Juice

Iquitos isn’t just another dot on the South American gringo trail. This isolated city – accessible only by boat or plane – has become the unofficial ayahuasca capital of the world. And for good reason. The shamanic traditions here run deeper than the Amazon River itself, passed down through generations of indigenous healers who actually know what they’re doing.

Not like that dodgy “shaman” I met in Cusco who learned everything from YouTube.

The thing about Iquitos is that it forces you to commit. You can’t just pop in for a quick ceremony between Machu Picchu selfies. The journey alone – whether you’re flying from Lima or taking the three-day boat ride from Pucallpa – weeds out the casual spiritual tourists. By the time you arrive, sweating through your third shirt of the day and wondering why anyone would build a city in Satan’s armpit, you’re already halfway transformed.

Choosing Your Retreat: Where I’ve Drunk the Medicine (And Where I Haven’t)

Over the years, I’ve sat in ceremony at several retreats around Iquitos. Some brilliant. Some… educational. Let me break down what I’ve learned, starting with the good ones.

Iquitos nailed the balance between authentic tradition and Western comfort. Some Maestro’s has been working with the medicine for over 40 years, and it shows. The integration sessions actually made sense of my visions.

I spent two weeks at Planta Maestra back in 2019, and honestly? Worth every sol. Their female shaman healers brought an energy I hadn’t experienced in other ceremonies. Something about the icaros (healing songs) sung by women just hits different. The facilities are top-notch too – actual mattresses, mosquito nets that work, and vegetarian food that doesn’t taste like punishment.

Look. I know what you’re thinking. “Another Western retreat charging Western prices.” But here’s my controversial opinion number one: paying more for a reputable retreat with proper medical screening, experienced facilitators, and actual integration support isn’t selling out. It’s common sense.

Some retreats (which shall remain nameless) operate on a shoestring budget and it shows. Dodgy shamans. Questionable hygiene. Zero aftercare. One place I visited – let’s call it “Budget Jungle Paradise” – served the medicine in plastic cups that hadn’t been properly cleaned. The “shaman” spent more time on his phone than holding space for participants.

Recipe for disaster.

The Ceremony Experience: What Nobody Tells You

Right. Let’s talk about what actually happens when you drink ayahuasca. Because Instagram makes it look like four hours of rainbow fractals and cosmic downloads. The reality? More complex. More challenging. More… biological.

First off, you will purge. This isn’t optional. The medicine works partially by making you violently expel whatever needs releasing – physically, emotionally, spiritually. I’ve seen grown men cry like babies. I’ve watched yoga instructors scream at imaginary demons. I’ve personally vomited what felt like every bad decision from 1998 onwards.

Beautiful? Not exactly. Necessary? Absolutely.

The visions come in waves. Sometimes gentle, like watching a David Attenborough documentary directed by Salvador Dalí. Sometimes intense, like being strapped to a rocket ship piloted by your worst fears. During one ceremony I experienced complete ego dissolution – that trendy term that means absolutely nothing until you’re floating in the void, unsure if you exist or ever existed.

Terrifying. Liberating. Tuesday in the Amazon.

Between you and me, about 73% of participants have at least one “difficult” ceremony. The retreats don’t advertise this because it’s bad for business, but it’s true. The medicine shows you what you need to see, not what you want to see. Sometimes that means confronting trauma you’ve buried deeper than Jimmy Hoffa.

The Dieta: Why Rice and Plantains Become Your Best Mates

Here’s controversial opinion number two: the dietary restrictions aren’t just shamanic theatre. They actually matter. No salt, no sugar, no sex, no pork – the list goes on longer than a CVS receipt. Most Westerners last about three days before fantasising about bacon.

But something shifts when you commit to the dieta. Your senses sharpen. Colours become more vivid. That bland plantain starts tasting like Gordon Ramsay prepared it. More importantly, the medicine works differently in a clean system. The visions come clearer, the lessons land deeper, and the healing actually sticks.

I learned this the hard way in 2018 when I cheated with a packet of salted peanuts. That night’s ceremony felt like wrestling an anaconda while solving advanced mathematics. The shaman knew immediately. They always know.

Integration: The Part Everyone Skips (At Their Peril)

Real talk: the ceremony is maybe 30% of the healing process. Integration – what you do with the insights afterwards – is where the actual work happens. Too many people drink the medicine, have a profound experience, then go back to their regular life expecting everything to magically change.

Spoiler alert: it doesn’t work that way. The good retreats understand this.

Because let’s be honest – telling your boss you need to quit because “Mother Ayahuasca said so” rarely goes well without proper context.

The Dark Side: What Could Go Wrong (And Often Does)

Not everything in the ayahuasca world is rainbow serpents and healing breakthroughs. The boom in psychedelic tourism has attracted some proper cowboys to Iquitos. Fake shamans. Dangerous practices. That weird guy from California who thinks he’s the reincarnation of Jim Morrison.

Always choose retreats with female facilitators present and clear safety protocols. Faster than Usain Bolt with a rocket strapped to his back. We chose Planta Maestra due to the genuine nature and feel of the owner.

Why Iquitos? Why Now? Why You Should Actually Care

After all these years travelling, I’ve realised something. We’re all looking for the same thing – connection, meaning, a reason to get out of bed that isn’t just paying rent and scrolling through Netflix. The conventional wellness industry offers band-aid solutions. Meditation apps. Yoga retreats where you spend more time photographing poses than practicing them. Green juice cleanses that just make you hungry and poor.

Ayahuasca offers something different. Not easier – definitely not easier – but more real.

Iquitos has become a pilgrimage site for burned-out Westerners seeking authentic transformation. Former corporate warriors trading spreadsheets for spirit molecules. Divorced dads looking for meaning beyond custody battles. That woman from accounting who always seemed fine but secretly battles depression deeper than the Mariana Trench.

We all end up in the same place, purging into buckets while geometric patterns explain the nature of existence.

Practical Stuff: Because Someone Has to Mention It

Right, let’s get practical. Costs vary wildly – from $50 per ceremony at local centres to $3000+ for luxury retreats.

Most retreats run 7-12 day programs with 3-4 ceremonies. This isn’t like doing shots in Cancún – you need recovery time between sessions. Your brain literally needs to process what happened before diving back in.

Final Thoughts: Why I Keep Going Back

I’ve drunk ayahuasca maybe 30 times now. Each ceremony teaches something new, peels back another layer of the onion that is human consciousness. Sometimes I think I’m done, that I’ve learned all the lessons. Then life happens – a relationship ends, a family member dies, existential dread creeps in like fog – and I find myself booking another flight to Iquitos.

Because here’s the thing about plant medicine: it’s not about escaping reality. It’s about diving so deep into reality that you finally understand your place in it. Even when that place involves purging last night’s dinner while a shaman sings songs older than Western civilisation.

Some people think ayahuasca tourism is just another form of colonial exploitation. That Westerners are appropriating indigenous traditions for personal gain. They’re not entirely wrong. But they’re not entirely right either. The indigenous communities I’ve worked with welcome respectful participants. The medicine doesn’t discriminate based on passport colour.

What matters is approaching it with humility, respect, and a genuine desire to heal – not just another Instagram story.

So yeah. Iquitos changed my life. Multiple times. It might change yours too. Or you might spend a week vomiting in the jungle wondering what terrible life choices led you here.

Only one way to find out.

Just don’t blame me when you’re explaining to your mum why you quit your job to become a sound healer. The medicine made you do it. The medicine always makes you do it. And sometimes, just sometimes, the medicine is right.