..as when i was sitting in my tent, in need of relief,
and looking at an empty bottle which is completely
useless to a female without a funnel (as i was and
still am). trekking through the national park of Los
Alerces for 5 days, i had absolutely no problems
´going´ outdoors, but at that particular moment,
listening to the wind and rain attacking my little
house whilst reading frank mccourt´s <angela´s ashes>
made me think ´och och, ´twas a curse indeed when the
good lord above decided not to grant us with
detachable penii.. bejaysus, am i to die of the
retention, the fluids poisoning me in the innards??´ i
had no choice but to expose my bottom to the wrath of
the clouds above.
since i´ve already broken my promise of not talking
toilet rubbish: i´ve recently made the acquaintance of
someone who doesn´t scrunch or fold – he *rolls*. is
this not a truly unthinkable discovery? - that there
could exist this other option beyond what i sincerely
believed to be a binary system.. when i found out, i
experienced something akin to how physicists must have
felt when the plum-pudding atomic model was abandonned
for the cloud idea. it´s a complete change in how i
see the world, and this person-in-question will surely
be interrogated when i get the chance.
i sadly left my 16 boyfriends (there were another 8
lifeguards that weren´t camping with us) last week,
and crossed west to the mountain range between chile
and argentina. i´ve been given 2 months (when i go
back that way) to seriously consider the possibility
of a happily-ever-after in the town of Rada Tilly. i
can´t figure out if the proposal is to wed me or bed
me.
the silver lining in leaving my newfound friends was
the chance to meet up again with the italian stallion
in Esquel (where i am now). really good to see him
again, and this time round, there was less angst in
our friendship/relationship, and we shared a lovely
pizza. he still teared up when we parted though (how
sweet, all boys should to learn this trick, it helps
the endearing). i, of course, maintained the
stiff-lipped composure that supports my theory that i
grew up on mars despite born on venus.
´puppetry of the penis´ is called ´confessions of the
penis´ here in argentina. i don´t know if that means
that here, the main attractions get to talk.
for as long as i live, i will never get used to the
sound of someone throwing up. especially when it´s
within metres of my tent, and the ground is already
saturated with half the year´s rainfall, and you can
hear individual splashes. even funnier (being
disgusted was a waste of energy, it was more fun to
find it amusing,) was that immediately following the
vomitting, i heard a steady tinkle as one of the
group-of-3-guys-camping-near-me relieved himself. and
the drunken slur of the 3rd guy saying ´hey, not so
close to the girl´s tent!´ i had to be very careful
about where i trod &placed my belongings this morning,
as i was packing up camp.
i´ve been trekking for the last 5 days through the
national park of Los Alerces. despite the heavy rain
(the worst it´s been for years, apparently), i was/am
so happy. this country has too much natural beauty for
its own good.
my last night in esquel tonight and to celebrate my
lovely time here, i´m off to have a repeat pizza like
the one i shared with adriano - quite possibly the
best i´ve ever had (the pizza that is, not the boy).
