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Little Corn Island, Nicaragua - Here At Last (Part II)

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Wednesday, February 15, 2006 We couldn't find the toilet. There was not one light in the entire compound. We searched and searched among the trees, but didn't see it. Hmm. That was not so great. (Because some things can't just be... See more » Wednesday, February 15, 2006 We couldn't find the toilet. There was not one light in the entire compound. We searched and searched among the trees, but didn't see it. Hmm. That was not so great. (Because some things can't just be done behind a tree.) We went back to the room. Even though it was only around 7:30 p.m. it would have been nice to go to sleep, but we didn't have our mosquito net yet and would have to wait for them to get home from the birthday party so we could get it. Ramon didn't think there was much threat from mosquitos with the strong ocean wind coming in, but I was worried about bugs in general. And it turned out that we had good reason for worry. First we discovered the flock of large cockroaches scurrying to and fro on the organicly-formed nightstand-thingy next to the bed. Look, we live in New York City. We're no stranger to the cockroach. But these were the big kind, the thumb-sized ones. And they didn't run from the light as I'm used to roaches doing. Run, roaches! It's light, your enemy! As we were exclaiming over them and trying to smash them, we found the giant red ants on the bed platform. They were gathered around trying to coordinate removing the carcass of another bug. Michael said they were the kind that bite. They were right near where my head would be if I were to lie down in the bed. Michael smashed them all right away with the bottom of something. But there were more, they were all over the platform above the bed where our bags were stored, just running around at random, not in regular ant trails. They looked like they were just waiting to drop on us. I'm not even going to mention the legions of teeny brown ants on the floor, because who's afraid of teeny brown ants? But by the rest we were disturbed, to say the least. We left the room and walked down to the beach to sit on a log and think about things. The stars were amazing. With not a single electric light anywhere within our vision, it was like we could see every star there ever was. This placated us, and we reminded ourselves of where we were, and how lucky we were to be there. But still, we would move to Derek's tomorrow, to one of the beautiful rooms, where we could feel even luckier. We even tossed around the idea of getting our stuff and going there now, just losing out on the money we would owe for our cane hut. But we decided against that. We'd just get a mosquito net before we went to sleep and tomorrow we'd move. It's just a few bugs, and we are strong people. After sitting and enjoying the night for a while, we decided to go back to the room. Maybe it would be better. It was not better. The ants were still there. The giant cockroaches were still there. And there was a new friend, a spider. A big, big spider, like as big as my hand, his long red-brown legs daintily curved over the supports of our bed platform. I had to get out. I had to get outside and away from that spider and whatever else was lurking in that room made of found objects. But the door was so low, I had to duck to get through it and suddenly that seemed like a frightening prospect, scraping my hair against the doorframe. But I did it. In a very clumsy and, to the outside observer, probably very comical way, I escaped the room and brushed myself off like a maniac. Michael came out after me and we stood looking in our doorway at the candle-lit room. That's when a little brown crab tried to scramble into our room. He was too small to eat, but too big to ignore, somewhere between the size of a Matchbox car and a chicken egg. He was really going for it, too. There was no mistaking his purpose. He wanted in. So as he reached the gap on the hinge side of the door, Michael reached out and swung the door outward. The crunch was sickening. The crab fell writhing to the flat stone outside our room and Michael put him out of his misery. We went back to the beach log to decide the question - Are we tenderfooted, scaredycat, crybaby, cityslicker wussies? And after some discussion we came to a conclusion. Yes. Any name you want, throw at us. We don't care. We're not See less »

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Little Corn Island, Nicaragua - Here At Last (Part II)

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