It's something unpredictable . . .
A crack rang out just before the bed collapsed. Everyone started laughing. Except for me. I was busy trying to get my foot out from where it had been crushed under the weight of the bed and three twenty-something girls. . .
12 hours earlier:
We all gathered in reception, bags in hand, excited to start our long weekend. Then we looked outside. It looked like we were being blessed with a small hurricane. None of us had seen it rain like this since we arrived. Most of us ran down to get rain gear, and then we waited for our taxi. And waited. And waited. And waited some more. Finally something that looked like it could potentially be a taxi drove up. "Are you Michelle?" Dorothea called down to the driver.
"Yes!" he replied.
So we seven girls gathered our things and made our way down the gangway, getting soaked in the process. As we threw our stuff in the back of his vehicle, it became apparent that this was not our cab and he was not, in fact, Michelle. So we went back up the gangway, getting more soaked by the minute.
two hours later
Michelle, who had been claiming to be on his way, finally admitted that he hadn't left yet. "It's raining!" he said. "I can't walk to my car in the rain!"
A cab driver who claimed to be a friend of Michelle's came up and told us he was Michelle, and that his friends would take us to Possotome. I had driven with this guy the weekend before, so I knew that even though he was not Michelle, he was an okay guy. We loaded our stuff into two rather decrepit cars with leaky windows and cracked windshields, and headed out.
We arrived about two and a half hours later. The whole time our driver was listening to what I can only describe as African PBR. It was very repetitive and very boring. They delivered us to a lovely hotel. It absolutely made up for our extremely late start. Until they said that this was not our hotel and they didn't have room for us. Eventually a fellow showed up to take us to where we were staying, which turned out to be a dirt lot with some huts. Slight dismay. Then the cab fellows told us that we weren't paying enough. They claimed that since we took two cars we should pay twice as much as the agreed upon price. All this took place to the odd sound of a child's hysterical laughter (it was one of the driver's cell phone rings). In the end, we didn't have to pay more, but we were unsure if the guys were coming back to get us the next day.
The huts weren't so bad on the inside. We were feeling good about life as we headed out to relax by the beach. At the beach there were a lot of chickens. One of them decided the beads dangling from Annemarie's swimsuit looked nice. A scream from Annemarie's side of the lounge chairs informed us that she had been pecked. Shortly thereafter, Dinante became the target for some bird poop. The menu's were delivered, and we discovered that the food looked really nasty, and we couldn't figure out where they cooked it. Some older Mercy Shippers came along and had a drink where we were. They said we should probably eat with them at their hotel, so after we bought some Youki's (BEST SODA EVER!) we headed over. Their hotel was a slice of paradise. We took pictures, relaxed, and ordered a tasty meal.
We then learned that the ladies didn't speak French. God bless Dorothea. She translated their extremely complicated dinner order without irritation on her part. As the night fell, we realized that it was way too dark to walk home alone. We hired a guy from the hotel to accompany us.
We arrived back at the huts and went in our separate rooms to change before meeting in the biggest room to eat cookies and peanut butter. Mid-changing session, the power went out. Dinante had her ipod and phone, so we started eating. The other girls joined us shortly thereafter, and Dorothea had a torch (flashlight). We laughed at how hot it was, and how much stuff had gone wrong. We wondered what would happen next.
A crack rang out just before the bed collapsed. Everyone started laughing. Except for me. I was busy trying to get my foot out from where it had been crushed under the weight of the bed and three twenty-something girls. It was about a minute before anyone realized that something was the matter with me. At this point I was crying and had freed myself, but I wasn't sure what to do next. Dorothea, who is a nurse, and Dinante, who is a med student, took charge of my situation. They had people get towels and wet them because we didn't have ice. They had me lift my foot and wrapped it in the towels. Dorothea happened to have a wrap, so she got that. The girls examined my foot. Then Dorothea suggested that we pray. It was really nice, amidst all that hurt and darkness and weirdness, to pray. Annemarie stayed by my head to pat my hair and give me hugs when I needed it. Everyone was really sweet.
Somewhere after that point the power came back on. We cheered (I think I smiled through tears), and they examined my foot in the light. It was bruising. They wrapped it nicely and gave me ibuprofen. We discussed returning to the ship that night, but ultimately it seemed like it would be too much effort. After making sure I was okay, everyone went to bed.
The next day the men who owned our hotel were horrified to discover what happened to me. They immediately went about arranging a massage for me, which Dorothea (God bless her) stopped. They did take time to poke my foot very hard for several minutes, which was very uncomfortable especially since I didn't know how to tell them to stop. They had their friend give me a ride down to the beach on his motorbike as I couldn't walk well.
I spent the day with Dorothea and Michelle relaxing on the beach. The other four girls went on a fishing expedition with the guy who enjoyed poking my injured foot. A different friend of our hotel owners gave me a ride back. We packed and ate lunch, all the while praying that our cab drivers would actually show up today. One of the drivers did. We found ourselves with no choice but to seat seven girls in a car that would comfortable seat four people besides the driver. There were two of us in the front seat, four in the back, and one in the trunk area. The driver played one tape pretty much the whole time. It was one song too. I'm pretty sure I didn't hear any breaks at all in the tape. Just when we thought it would drive us insane, it finally ended (but how could he tell?) and he put in something at the same extremely high volume, but not quite as annoying.
The ship has never looked more beautiful than it did when we pulled up to it. We were relieved and exhausted that our crazy adventure was over. I had my foot checked out, and the nurse said it was probably just a sprain. I spent some time with my roommates, and ate about half a bag of candied nuts. I went to bed feeling a little sick, but relieved to be done with the crazy part of the weekend.
Somewhere around three in the morning I got up and puked. I ended up throwing up about ten times. I still didn't feel good, so I switched most of my bedding to the bottom bunk as Katie was out of town, and slept next to a trash can. By the next morning, my illness had moved more southerly. I was sick all morning, and I slept a lot. Dinante, as one of my roommates, knew all about my intestinal issues, so it was fitting that she was around when I woke up from a nap with a giant sty under my right eye! I walked out to where she was talking in Dutch on the phone, pointed to my eye, and said, "Seriously? What the heck?" She was so taken aback that she started responding to me in Dutch. She took a second to reorient herself, and then said, "WHAT'S WRONG WITH YOU?"
The sty was taken care of through benedryl. The stomach issues are subsiding. I can walk well enough. But I'm pretty sure I'm not going to wonder what will happen next. I don't think I want to know!
12 hours earlier:
We all gathered in reception, bags in hand, excited to start our long weekend. Then we looked outside. It looked like we were being blessed with a small hurricane. None of us had seen it rain like this since we arrived. Most of us ran down to get rain gear, and then we waited for our taxi. And waited. And waited. And waited some more. Finally something that looked like it could potentially be a taxi drove up. "Are you Michelle?" Dorothea called down to the driver.
"Yes!" he replied.
So we seven girls gathered our things and made our way down the gangway, getting soaked in the process. As we threw our stuff in the back of his vehicle, it became apparent that this was not our cab and he was not, in fact, Michelle. So we went back up the gangway, getting more soaked by the minute.
two hours later
Michelle, who had been claiming to be on his way, finally admitted that he hadn't left yet. "It's raining!" he said. "I can't walk to my car in the rain!"
A cab driver who claimed to be a friend of Michelle's came up and told us he was Michelle, and that his friends would take us to Possotome. I had driven with this guy the weekend before, so I knew that even though he was not Michelle, he was an okay guy. We loaded our stuff into two rather decrepit cars with leaky windows and cracked windshields, and headed out.
We arrived about two and a half hours later. The whole time our driver was listening to what I can only describe as African PBR. It was very repetitive and very boring. They delivered us to a lovely hotel. It absolutely made up for our extremely late start. Until they said that this was not our hotel and they didn't have room for us. Eventually a fellow showed up to take us to where we were staying, which turned out to be a dirt lot with some huts. Slight dismay. Then the cab fellows told us that we weren't paying enough. They claimed that since we took two cars we should pay twice as much as the agreed upon price. All this took place to the odd sound of a child's hysterical laughter (it was one of the driver's cell phone rings). In the end, we didn't have to pay more, but we were unsure if the guys were coming back to get us the next day.
The huts weren't so bad on the inside. We were feeling good about life as we headed out to relax by the beach. At the beach there were a lot of chickens. One of them decided the beads dangling from Annemarie's swimsuit looked nice. A scream from Annemarie's side of the lounge chairs informed us that she had been pecked. Shortly thereafter, Dinante became the target for some bird poop. The menu's were delivered, and we discovered that the food looked really nasty, and we couldn't figure out where they cooked it. Some older Mercy Shippers came along and had a drink where we were. They said we should probably eat with them at their hotel, so after we bought some Youki's (BEST SODA EVER!) we headed over. Their hotel was a slice of paradise. We took pictures, relaxed, and ordered a tasty meal.
We then learned that the ladies didn't speak French. God bless Dorothea. She translated their extremely complicated dinner order without irritation on her part. As the night fell, we realized that it was way too dark to walk home alone. We hired a guy from the hotel to accompany us.
We arrived back at the huts and went in our separate rooms to change before meeting in the biggest room to eat cookies and peanut butter. Mid-changing session, the power went out. Dinante had her ipod and phone, so we started eating. The other girls joined us shortly thereafter, and Dorothea had a torch (flashlight). We laughed at how hot it was, and how much stuff had gone wrong. We wondered what would happen next.
A crack rang out just before the bed collapsed. Everyone started laughing. Except for me. I was busy trying to get my foot out from where it had been crushed under the weight of the bed and three twenty-something girls. It was about a minute before anyone realized that something was the matter with me. At this point I was crying and had freed myself, but I wasn't sure what to do next. Dorothea, who is a nurse, and Dinante, who is a med student, took charge of my situation. They had people get towels and wet them because we didn't have ice. They had me lift my foot and wrapped it in the towels. Dorothea happened to have a wrap, so she got that. The girls examined my foot. Then Dorothea suggested that we pray. It was really nice, amidst all that hurt and darkness and weirdness, to pray. Annemarie stayed by my head to pat my hair and give me hugs when I needed it. Everyone was really sweet.
Somewhere after that point the power came back on. We cheered (I think I smiled through tears), and they examined my foot in the light. It was bruising. They wrapped it nicely and gave me ibuprofen. We discussed returning to the ship that night, but ultimately it seemed like it would be too much effort. After making sure I was okay, everyone went to bed.
The next day the men who owned our hotel were horrified to discover what happened to me. They immediately went about arranging a massage for me, which Dorothea (God bless her) stopped. They did take time to poke my foot very hard for several minutes, which was very uncomfortable especially since I didn't know how to tell them to stop. They had their friend give me a ride down to the beach on his motorbike as I couldn't walk well.
I spent the day with Dorothea and Michelle relaxing on the beach. The other four girls went on a fishing expedition with the guy who enjoyed poking my injured foot. A different friend of our hotel owners gave me a ride back. We packed and ate lunch, all the while praying that our cab drivers would actually show up today. One of the drivers did. We found ourselves with no choice but to seat seven girls in a car that would comfortable seat four people besides the driver. There were two of us in the front seat, four in the back, and one in the trunk area. The driver played one tape pretty much the whole time. It was one song too. I'm pretty sure I didn't hear any breaks at all in the tape. Just when we thought it would drive us insane, it finally ended (but how could he tell?) and he put in something at the same extremely high volume, but not quite as annoying.
The ship has never looked more beautiful than it did when we pulled up to it. We were relieved and exhausted that our crazy adventure was over. I had my foot checked out, and the nurse said it was probably just a sprain. I spent some time with my roommates, and ate about half a bag of candied nuts. I went to bed feeling a little sick, but relieved to be done with the crazy part of the weekend.
Somewhere around three in the morning I got up and puked. I ended up throwing up about ten times. I still didn't feel good, so I switched most of my bedding to the bottom bunk as Katie was out of town, and slept next to a trash can. By the next morning, my illness had moved more southerly. I was sick all morning, and I slept a lot. Dinante, as one of my roommates, knew all about my intestinal issues, so it was fitting that she was around when I woke up from a nap with a giant sty under my right eye! I walked out to where she was talking in Dutch on the phone, pointed to my eye, and said, "Seriously? What the heck?" She was so taken aback that she started responding to me in Dutch. She took a second to reorient herself, and then said, "WHAT'S WRONG WITH YOU?"
The sty was taken care of through benedryl. The stomach issues are subsiding. I can walk well enough. But I'm pretty sure I'm not going to wonder what will happen next. I don't think I want to know!
