doors shouting "Levantate el culo!". With no real reason to wake up at 6am, I was a little annoyed. But, a quick run to get gasoline and water and we were back at the docks, making our second attempt to reach the ranch via motorboat in 6 inch water.How we navigated, I'm still not sure. But, I could have sworn the route we took that morning was exactly the same as the one from the night before. Eventually, we found the "beacon" we'd been searching for the night before. It was a little stick poking out of the water with a plastic bag waving on it.... How anyone would have found that in the middle of a moonless tropical night in a lake the size of Puerto Rico is a mystery to me. But, my dad still maintains he had many a night drinking in San Miguelito, and stubling drunk back to the ranch via moonlight navigation.
Needless to say, we did, in fact, get stuck again. Luckily, we were somewhat refreshed, and could see our goal. Freeing ourselves with the palankas was straighforward enough, and before we knew it, we were home free, putting up into the the river mouth in deeper, greener water.
When we finally made it in to the ranch house, my mom was waiting eagerly, and there was a delicious brunch ready for us.
Maybe delicious is too strong of a word. But satisfying. It consisted of beans & rice, boiled guineos (bland potato-tasting bananas), and the famous squeaky cheese. We found out soon that our neighbors (my father's uncle) were slaughtering a pig and making nacatamales.
We spent part of the day cruising the boat up the river, and carving a perimeter around Los Limones (our ranch). From the two bordering rivers, you can see jungle, mountains, and the llano (grassland plains).
When it was time to return to the ranch house for the party at the neighbors, we all put on our semi-presentable clothes, and made the quick down river, to the first creek that we'd passed earlier. Turning in, we eventually made it to an empty bank, and no house in sight. As I understand it, this house was build a hundred years ago, and on the only hill in the area (I suppose for flooding reasons).It really was an interesting hike up to the top of the hill. We passed by pigs playing in the mud, calves roaming around all willy nilly,
all kinds of enourmous trees i'd never seen before, and parasitic plants enveloping them. Some were just too amazing to pass up photos of.
For some reason, this land, only a mile from our own ranch, had a different feel to it. The trees were larger, more dramatic looking, and it felt older, like it was straight out of Macondo (five bonus points if you know Macondo). Complete with talking parrots, toucans, rabbits, chickens, pigs, dogs, and horses.
The two servants were a very nice older woman and her 9 year old daughter, Abigail. For both the nacatamales and to make chicken food, Abigaile was a pro with the corn grinder, and she was eager to demonstrate. She was a very sweet little girl, and took us all over the farm, showing us the chicken coops and her favorite hiding spots. In return, we taught her a few words in english.
The nacatamales were absolutely delicious -- perhaps the best meal we ate the entire trip. And perhaps too delicious. The combination of rain, eating too many nacatamales, and having an enourmous rump culminated in a pretty embarrassing wardrobe malfunction.... Always having to challenge animals in life, I tried to be sneaky and catch some of the baby chicks running around the patio. I slowly sneaked up, bent down, shot my arm out, and heard a thunderous RIIIIP. Behold:
My relatives are both numerous and diverse. I have photos and the like, but i'll spare you, dear reader. After a nice long evening of drinking beer, smoking cigarettes, and catching up with the family, we made our 1 km trip back to the boat dock. Because of the constant wetness and moonlessness, it was exceptionally difficult. The only one with any forsight, my lovely mama, was the only one with the forsight to bring a flashlight. So, we huddled together, and clambered down the muddy hill back to the river to meet the leaky boat again.
That point was one of the most trying parts of the trip. Because the 'path' was narrow, Chris, Nat, me, and my parents had to walk almost single file, meaning the person in back was in total darkness, and had to go slower. If you put the flashlight person in back, the person in front couldn't see. So, when Mando (my dad) was in front, he'd keep barking to keep up, and then when he was in the back, he'd tell us to slow down... It was was quite trying.
Meanwhile, all over the the darkness were moving bodies. I just kept telling myself they were the numerous dogs running around us in the dark jungle -- and not cougars or crocodiles! I'd almost made it the whole way before i tripped over a sleeping animal (I still don't know if it was a pig or a calf) and plunged knee deep into a muddy pig hole. gross...
I slept like a log that night in my mosquito-screened bunk bed.
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