In the morning, Vincent tells me that Skinny and Horny got off during the night.
Phew. We settle back into passing the time as best we can. It's either reading or chess. I'm not great at chess. Both Vincent and I struggle to maintain the focus or patience to think properly through the length of a full game. Invariably, one of us will do something brutally stupid and lose our queen - much more often than not, it's me. Vincent's favourite phrase quickly becomes "
you're fucked".
Nicholas accurately compares the setting to Apocalypse Now. It's a wide, slow flowing river with open lush green flat land to the west, and varying forest to the east. The river isn't thinning out as much as I expected and there are still frequent stops for villages.
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| Photo: Wikipedia |
One such stop is the relatively large town of Fuerte Olimpo. As Vincent and I are walking along the river side on a raised road, we've got our eyes out for Caimans. I think I see something, but continue walking waiting for it to become clear. Perhaps the chess has instilled some healthy competition between the Belgian and I. I want to be the first to find a Caiman. Only as I start hopping down the bank do I ask Vincent "what's that Caiman shaped log over there". In the heat of the moment, I forget everything that Steve Irwin taught me, and the Caiman turns and makes a dash into deeper water. We're both happy to have been close enough to tick another wildlife box. We continue to keep our eyes out, but don't get any more that a couple of vultures.
The toilets are at the back of the boat. One is a hole in the ground and the other is an unplumbed toilet bowl, which only serves to dress a hole in the ground. As I go to use the tap by those toilets, I find a two foot round plastic washing bowl on the floor. More surprising is the big fat fish, a little over two feet, sitting in that bowl. He's an ugly bastard, but I give him a little stroke and leave him to his fate.
Having heard the toilets described yesterday, I've eaten no more than an apple in the last twenty four hours - it seems that the right motivation can help me control my appetite - but now I think that it's time to eat some of my prepacked sustenance. I pop back to my bunk to pick up something, but find two girls and a baby in the narrow space. I don't want to be involved in any of that so I hold my hunger and leave them to it.
I return ten minutes later. The two girls are gone, but the baby remains - and on
my bed. I'm pretty annoyed with that, but I still don't want anything to do with it, so I give it another ten minutes.
Now it's worse. Now I have a crying baby on my bed. I immediately seek help from Vincent and Nicholas, but they offer none and Delphine is elsewhere. I return to the child. Trying to recall what Tom Selleck, Steve Guttenburg and Ted Danson did in the same situation, I pick her up, keeping her away with my fully extended arms, and sit her on the bunk above. I'm pleased that she's no longer on my bed, but she won't stop crying. Even with the door open and the loud crying, no help arrives. I try reasoning with the child, explaining that I don't like the situation any more than she does. I try shouting at her, telling her that she is soft and lacks discipline. I try playing her Enter Sandman. I even try shaking her, like British nanny. Nothing works.
She's reaching out to me as if she wants to be held, but she's dreaming if she thinks she's getting anywhere near me, much less asking for some how of affection. I have little more comprehension of human emotion than the Terminator at the end of Terminator 2: Judgement Day. After three long minutes, a small girl arrives and I pass off the child to her. Once held, it immediately stops crying.
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| I know now why you cry |
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