The trekkers made it to the village, tired but upbeat. "The hardest thing I've ever done" was uttered more then once. Reports said that our drunken guide had the worst of it, often falling behind and pleading for the group to wait for him as they called him names and pressed on.
Home for the night was a long house on a big hill over looking the village and valley below. The twenty foot tall deck was made of widely spaced bamboo under thin reed mats which always left you with the feeling that you were about to step through. Our bedroom for the night was three bug nets covering a half dozen thin sleeping pads. The shower was a plastic waste bin full of water and a smaller bucket to get the water over your head. The American and Swiss girls were less then impressed with our accommodations. I asked them what they had expected, knowing that they were going to stay in a mountain village with no power. The response was a silent stare to the tune of "your an asshole."
It was on our sketchy deck with the amazing view were we met a nine year old girl named Dala. A little shy at first, Dala was soon climbing the wall of the our hut to show us how she could monkey across the room swinging from the rafters. She went and got her eight month old brother, bring him up the steep two by four stairs on her back. He looked to have clubbed feat and Chat told us that he would never walk, but impressively he could sit up and make pretty good time scooting across the floor on his bottom.
Some ladies in traditional dress who I think were part of Dala's family came up to the deck with some handy crafts as Dala went to the kitchen area and started a fire and boiling water in preparation for our meal. The adults took over the cooking while we sat on the deck mats and played Bullshit. Dala flung herself on my back and held my cards randomly shouting out the numbers she knew in English. On top of being the loudest back pack I have ever had she also destroyed my no fail, Bullshit strategy.
Chat had took a long nap and slept off most of his drunk. A little humble and possibly embarrassed he helped serve us a fantastic meal of green curry chicken, soup, and freshly made chili sauce. The sun set and little Dala got some wood and made a fire in the brazier that centered the deck. We managed to procure a bag of brown looking weed and a bamboo bong sealed up with candle wax. Chat, still feeling helpful, brought us a big kitchen knife and wooden block for the chopping and sorting of materials. Candles were lit and stuck to flat rocks as the night got easy. The bong made its rounds always seemed to be lost as it wouldn't stand on it's own and had to leaned up against some thing if not in hand. Adriana got the quote of the night for, "I'm not sure if that is the bong or the deck." Short of rolling papers, Michaela voted me most useful for ability to painstakingly emptying the tobacco out of cigarettes and repacking them with the aid of a pipe cleaner.
There were lots of extra sleeping mats, pillows and blankets but there were very few bug nets in comparison so the group decided would sleep in a big pile, Wild Things style. Brock, Damian and I started reconfiguring the long house's gear, double stacking the thin mattress', adding extra pillows and blankets before reinstalling the bug nets.
Back out on the deck one of the girls asked what it was like in the new sleeping quarters. "Do you know the Tajma Hall?" She nodded in the affirmative. "Yeah well it's a shit hole compared to the pillowy, bambo, palace we have created." Everyone laughed and the illusion held for about ten minutes. There was a terrible screem from inside the hut. Damian and I ran over meeting Chat at the door. Tiff had found a big cockroach in her shoe and another on the wall.
It's funny how simple the formula for a good time is and how universal. You start with a deck/ beach/ campsite, stars, fire, good people and then season to taste with alcohol and whatever other party favors are available. It was hard looking forward from that deck knowing that eventually I would end up in a crowded city or beach bar somewhere, listening to a remix of a song that sucked in it's original form and had gotten worse in the mixing. I let the thought drift away for the decidedly happy present. We finished our night talking, laughing and inventing with our endless supply of empty beer cans, pipe cleaners and candle wax before crawling into our netted, tree fort palace.
Chat had took a long nap and slept off most of his drunk. A little humble and possibly embarrassed he helped serve us a fantastic meal of green curry chicken, soup, and freshly made chili sauce. The sun set and little Dala got some wood and made a fire in the brazier that centered the deck. We managed to procure a bag of brown looking weed and a bamboo bong sealed up with candle wax. Chat, still feeling helpful, brought us a big kitchen knife and wooden block for the chopping and sorting of materials. Candles were lit and stuck to flat rocks as the night got easy. The bong made its rounds always seemed to be lost as it wouldn't stand on it's own and had to leaned up against some thing if not in hand. Adriana got the quote of the night for, "I'm not sure if that is the bong or the deck." Short of rolling papers, Michaela voted me most useful for ability to painstakingly emptying the tobacco out of cigarettes and repacking them with the aid of a pipe cleaner.
There were lots of extra sleeping mats, pillows and blankets but there were very few bug nets in comparison so the group decided would sleep in a big pile, Wild Things style. Brock, Damian and I started reconfiguring the long house's gear, double stacking the thin mattress', adding extra pillows and blankets before reinstalling the bug nets.
Back out on the deck one of the girls asked what it was like in the new sleeping quarters. "Do you know the Tajma Hall?" She nodded in the affirmative. "Yeah well it's a shit hole compared to the pillowy, bambo, palace we have created." Everyone laughed and the illusion held for about ten minutes. There was a terrible screem from inside the hut. Damian and I ran over meeting Chat at the door. Tiff had found a big cockroach in her shoe and another on the wall.
It's funny how simple the formula for a good time is and how universal. You start with a deck/ beach/ campsite, stars, fire, good people and then season to taste with alcohol and whatever other party favors are available. It was hard looking forward from that deck knowing that eventually I would end up in a crowded city or beach bar somewhere, listening to a remix of a song that sucked in it's original form and had gotten worse in the mixing. I let the thought drift away for the decidedly happy present. We finished our night talking, laughing and inventing with our endless supply of empty beer cans, pipe cleaners and candle wax before crawling into our netted, tree fort palace.
No comments:
Post a Comment