Its a real pain to get up, turn on the light and start writing down my dreams with half asleep eyes. Back home I usually just voice record them on my phone, but since I don't want to wake up Blake, either with my horse morning voice or the light above our heads, I just write them down on my phone.In the morning we joined our new friends for breakfast in camp. We played some great games of 13 with David, Laura and Yuka. When breakfast was concluded and everyone either returned to the rooms or went off on a tour with their guides, Blake and I walked back to our hut through the jungle pathway, a stroll i've very much come to enjoy the last few days. It grows on you, being in the midst of constant danger and beauty. Just so long as it remains as a reminder of your mortality and not a harsh lesson of it that is.While in our hut we only ever do 3 things, kill mosquitos, read while killing Mosquitos, or sleep/rest in our beds to escape the Mosquitos... Id say we are attacked by an average of 2 mosquitos every minute, for at least 8 hours of the day. The worst times being right after a rain, which is nearly all the time being the rainforest and all, and just before going to sleep at around 7pm.Every time we fix a hole in the defenses of the house we notice another somewhere else. A few days ago Dennis nailed boards under every crack between the floorboards under the hut, some of which were an inch in diameter, more than enough to get in, not only for mosquitos but countless other creepy crawlers, winged menaces and slime secreting organisms. The names of which I could only guess at and the descriptions for which would no doubt, and have no doubt inspired any number of science fiction writers throughout the ages. No matter how many we killed, or how many patches we made, there was no reprieve, and out of this, but in addition to many other things, our frustration grew..Blakes reading "The Morningstar" a medieval fantasy tale, and Im reading "The 6th Man" a murder mystery involving the smartest man alive. We read until lunch time when we returned to camp and once again arrived too early and were left with our usual set of choices, sit and wait patiently (the least favored by far) or play cards. We went with the latter choice. The food appeared after everyone else had arrived and we were already halfway through a game, which we set aside to commence the sustainment of our Earthy vessels.During and after the meal we all got to talking more about ourselves. I talked about my interests in travel, writing, the arts and of course my long history of gaming. We discussed our favorite directors, I usually only talk about favorite movies or actors when discussing film, but I didn't have to think much about it, James Cameron for the win!We also talked about what musical instruments we played, currently or in school, I don't often look back at the 2 and a half years I spent in elementary and middle school fiddling about with the trombone, it was an interesting recollection to be sure.After lunch Laura, David and Yuka went camping and we continued to read.Ricky Ricardo was Antoine and Marilou's guide before they left. He was now assigned to us, and came to visit while we were reading in the living room. He knocked and entered through our front door, which had no door knob, is closed by a wedging a string between the door and the jam, and must be kept shut at all times, which it rarely was with so many people coming and going, lest the mosquitos have it any easier than they already did in getting in.Ricky found a place to sit on a mat against the wall and gave us a wide smile that was colored by the grief in his eyes. I knew this because Ricky had sat down with the us and the Canadians at dinner two nights passed and told us about his experiences as a Peruvian army commando. Fighting against drug cartels and political guerrillas in the jungles of South America back in the 80's.It had begun when he overheard us talking about ghosts and spirits in relation to ayahuasca. Thats when he came to the table and asked us if we believed in paranormal activity. He started out telling us the story of tracking guerrillas in the jungle and having to spend the night in a cemetery where he fell into a kind of trance in a collapsed grave while on watch.He told us he heard footsteps coming behind him, he wanted to open his eyes and look to see who it was but he was frozen in place, the foot steps got closer, Ricky was breathing heavily, trying as hard as he could to fight the paralysis or whatever it was and fulfill his duty as watchman and protect the other men sleeping in his unit, but he couldn't, and every step added another chill down his spine.As the steps reached his side he heard a hallow and yet sharp voice speak, "why are you here?" It said, and suddenly Ricky was smacked hard in the side of the head and he rolled out of the grave getting to his feet and yelling to the other men, who woke up and came over to see what was the matter. Ricky said there was a huge red mark on his face and everyone looked around to find whoever has hit him for over an hour. But found no one. After that it was Ricky's turn to sleep with the rest of the unit in the little abandoned hut on the hill just under the cemetery.When he finally closed his eyes and slept he was woken up immediately in the same place by another soldier, "no, let me sleep he said" but the soldier tucked hard at his collar, pulling him close to his face. It was then that Ricky noticed he could not make out who the man was. Ricky was afraid he might be a guerrilla and screamed, "who are you!?" no light shone upon him and Ricky grabbed his flash light from his gear and shined it at him. But it didn't do any good, for Ricky saw that the soldiers face was missing, blown away by a grenade or close range large-caliber gun shot. "Who are you!?" He said again. The dark and twisted remnants of the mans face moved and a clear voice could be heard, "I'm your friend." As he said this Ricky lost all patience and attacked the gloomy figure.This is where the other men of the unit are woken up by him screaming and throwing punches in his sleep. No matter how hard they shook him he wouldn't wake up, until the captain threw water in his face and Ricky sprung to his feet pulling his combat knife from his holster, sweating like a frozen water bottle in Death Valley. "Where is he!?" Ricky screamed, "I'll kill him!" "It was just a dream Ricky," said the captain. "No! He's here! I was just with him!"The captain asked for the sergeants water bottle, which was always filled with liquor, and gave it to Ricky, he took a couple swigs and finally came to his senses. It was nearly dawn by then and the squad packed up and left. A few days later they found the guerrillas and pursued them further into the mountains.Ricky told us this the night Antoine and Marilou took ayahuasca. The next day we saw him teary eyed standing alone looking out into the jungle, and now he was in our hut, telling us more commando stories of which I wont get into. After he shared the next stories with us Ricky changed the subject and told us of his christmas plans to buy fruit cake and toys and make hot chocolate, giving it all out to the children of his village back in Iquitos. He invited us to participate and we whole heartedly accepted the offer. Ricky then told us of his past business experiences building a resort in the jungle, and that his partner was a drunk and very mean, eventually running it into the ground. Ricky then thanked us for everything and left.At dinner it was just us and Ricky, who in addition to being our Guide was also our cook, a very good one too. He taught us two new card games, one of which he calls criminal punch, but I'm pretty sure its just Jin rummy with a Peruvian flare. He continued telling us ever more gruesome and terrifying commando stories while we played criminal punch by candle light, adding a wonderful ambiance to the whole scene.The Argentinians, who had gone camping a day before and were supposed to be gone two more days, came back while we were about to go to bed, apparently it had been far to rainy and mosquito ridden for them. From some of the things Ricky told us, it seems almost childish to complain about such things, something I would have to remind myself of more than once in the days to come..Ricky Ricardo
Its a real pain to get up, turn on the light and start writing down my dreams with half asleep eyes. Back home I usually just voice record them on my phone, but since I don't want to wake up Blake, either with my horse morning voice or the light above our heads, I just write them down on my phone.In the morning we joined our new friends for breakfast in camp. We played some great games of 13 with David, Laura and Yuka. When breakfast was concluded and everyone either returned to the rooms or went off on a tour with their guides, Blake and I walked back to our hut through the jungle pathway, a stroll i've very much come to enjoy the last few days. It grows on you, being in the midst of constant danger and beauty. Just so long as it remains as a reminder of your mortality and not a harsh lesson of it that is.While in our hut we only ever do 3 things, kill mosquitos, read while killing Mosquitos, or sleep/rest in our beds to escape the Mosquitos... Id say we are attacked by an average of 2 mosquitos every minute, for at least 8 hours of the day. The worst times being right after a rain, which is nearly all the time being the rainforest and all, and just before going to sleep at around 7pm.Every time we fix a hole in the defenses of the house we notice another somewhere else. A few days ago Dennis nailed boards under every crack between the floorboards under the hut, some of which were an inch in diameter, more than enough to get in, not only for mosquitos but countless other creepy crawlers, winged menaces and slime secreting organisms. The names of which I could only guess at and the descriptions for which would no doubt, and have no doubt inspired any number of science fiction writers throughout the ages. No matter how many we killed, or how many patches we made, there was no reprieve, and out of this, but in addition to many other things, our frustration grew..Blakes reading "The Morningstar" a medieval fantasy tale, and Im reading "The 6th Man" a murder mystery involving the smartest man alive. We read until lunch time when we returned to camp and once again arrived too early and were left with our usual set of choices, sit and wait patiently (the least favored by far) or play cards. We went with the latter choice. The food appeared after everyone else had arrived and we were already halfway through a game, which we set aside to commence the sustainment of our Earthy vessels.During and after the meal we all got to talking more about ourselves. I talked about my interests in travel, writing, the arts and of course my long history of gaming. We discussed our favorite directors, I usually only talk about favorite movies or actors when discussing film, but I didn't have to think much about it, James Cameron for the win!We also talked about what musical instruments we played, currently or in school, I don't often look back at the 2 and a half years I spent in elementary and middle school fiddling about with the trombone, it was an interesting recollection to be sure.After lunch Laura, David and Yuka went camping and we continued to read.Ricky Ricardo was Antoine and Marilou's guide before they left. He was now assigned to us, and came to visit while we were reading in the living room. He knocked and entered through our front door, which had no door knob, is closed by a wedging a string between the door and the jam, and must be kept shut at all times, which it rarely was with so many people coming and going, lest the mosquitos have it any easier than they already did in getting in.Ricky found a place to sit on a mat against the wall and gave us a wide smile that was colored by the grief in his eyes. I knew this because Ricky had sat down with the us and the Canadians at dinner two nights passed and told us about his experiences as a Peruvian army commando. Fighting against drug cartels and political guerrillas in the jungles of South America back in the 80's.It had begun when he overheard us talking about ghosts and spirits in relation to ayahuasca. Thats when he came to the table and asked us if we believed in paranormal activity. He started out telling us the story of tracking guerrillas in the jungle and having to spend the night in a cemetery where he fell into a kind of trance in a collapsed grave while on watch.He told us he heard footsteps coming behind him, he wanted to open his eyes and look to see who it was but he was frozen in place, the foot steps got closer, Ricky was breathing heavily, trying as hard as he could to fight the paralysis or whatever it was and fulfill his duty as watchman and protect the other men sleeping in his unit, but he couldn't, and every step added another chill down his spine.As the steps reached his side he heard a hallow and yet sharp voice speak, "why are you here?" It said, and suddenly Ricky was smacked hard in the side of the head and he rolled out of the grave getting to his feet and yelling to the other men, who woke up and came over to see what was the matter. Ricky said there was a huge red mark on his face and everyone looked around to find whoever has hit him for over an hour. But found no one. After that it was Ricky's turn to sleep with the rest of the unit in the little abandoned hut on the hill just under the cemetery.When he finally closed his eyes and slept he was woken up immediately in the same place by another soldier, "no, let me sleep he said" but the soldier tucked hard at his collar, pulling him close to his face. It was then that Ricky noticed he could not make out who the man was. Ricky was afraid he might be a guerrilla and screamed, "who are you!?" no light shone upon him and Ricky grabbed his flash light from his gear and shined it at him. But it didn't do any good, for Ricky saw that the soldiers face was missing, blown away by a grenade or close range large-caliber gun shot. "Who are you!?" He said again. The dark and twisted remnants of the mans face moved and a clear voice could be heard, "I'm your friend." As he said this Ricky lost all patience and attacked the gloomy figure.This is where the other men of the unit are woken up by him screaming and throwing punches in his sleep. No matter how hard they shook him he wouldn't wake up, until the captain threw water in his face and Ricky sprung to his feet pulling his combat knife from his holster, sweating like a frozen water bottle in Death Valley. "Where is he!?" Ricky screamed, "I'll kill him!" "It was just a dream Ricky," said the captain. "No! He's here! I was just with him!"The captain asked for the sergeants water bottle, which was always filled with liquor, and gave it to Ricky, he took a couple swigs and finally came to his senses. It was nearly dawn by then and the squad packed up and left. A few days later they found the guerrillas and pursued them further into the mountains.Ricky told us this the night Antoine and Marilou took ayahuasca. The next day we saw him teary eyed standing alone looking out into the jungle, and now he was in our hut, telling us more commando stories of which I wont get into. After he shared the next stories with us Ricky changed the subject and told us of his christmas plans to buy fruit cake and toys and make hot chocolate, giving it all out to the children of his village back in Iquitos. He invited us to participate and we whole heartedly accepted the offer. Ricky then told us of his past business experiences building a resort in the jungle, and that his partner was a drunk and very mean, eventually running it into the ground. Ricky then thanked us for everything and left.At dinner it was just us and Ricky, who in addition to being our Guide was also our cook, a very good one too. He taught us two new card games, one of which he calls criminal punch, but I'm pretty sure its just Jin rummy with a Peruvian flare. He continued telling us ever more gruesome and terrifying commando stories while we played criminal punch by candle light, adding a wonderful ambiance to the whole scene.The Argentinians, who had gone camping a day before and were supposed to be gone two more days, came back while we were about to go to bed, apparently it had been far to rainy and mosquito ridden for them. From some of the things Ricky told us, it seems almost childish to complain about such things, something I would have to remind myself of more than once in the days to come..