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 sleeping in Wild Kingdom tonight.

I didn't relish the thought of yet another trip through the black jungle with a dying flashlight, but much of the path was along the beach, where there was some starlight and where we'd at least be able to stay on course. Briefly we discussed just fleeing into the night with only the clothes on our backs, but Michael insisted on taking our stuff, which was probably the right choice.

So we went back to the room. There was a large cockroach sitting on the rock outside our door lapping up the tasty juices of the recently deceased crab. We packed - and by packed I mean shoved everything that was ours willy-nilly into whatever backpack was closest. (That's when I discovered the frolight, which is the wonderfully convenient light created when I shove a flashlight under my headband so that it becomes just like a fancy headlamp.) And we were off. If Derek's didn't work out, we'd walk all the way back to town. We didn't care. Anywhere. Just no more Ensuenos. Sorry. Not for us.

The beach path was less frightening than the jungle path. My flashlight beam was weak and yellow but adequate. All seemed well. But then came the crab. I'd accidentally kicked one or two large-sized crabs in our frenzied walk through the dark, but this one was different.

He was squarish and gray and so huge that I'd never be able to afford to eat him in a restaurant. And despite what I've been told all my life, he was not more afraid of me than I was of him. He was not only unafraid, but he was clearly confident he could take me on. There in the narrow path, he squared off with me. With his extra-large right claw protecting his face, his beady black eyes glittering, he hissed at me.

Michael agreed that he was indeed huge, but tried to convince me to just come on and leave him before the flashlight died. But I couldn't move. I was afraid to pass by him too closely and I was afraid of what might get me if I stepped off the path and into the greenery to loop around him. Others, maybe. Or worse. But you can't stand there all night, so eventually I high stepped around him, letting out little squeaks of terror, and we were able to go on. And on. It was a long walk in the dark, especially when we had to go back into the trees.

Finally we saw Derek's. Specifically the bathroom building, with light shining through its colored rum bottles. Light! Not a lot of light, but enough to let us feel we were in a people area.

But he wasn't there. There was a Polish couple staying there and they said Derek and Anna had gone to a birthday party. The birthday party! We were devastated. But between the four of us, we decided it would be okay to just take a room and then explain when they got there. It did not occur to us to wait in the dining room for their return. Yes, we'd just put our stuff in the room and when they got back home, we'd explain what had happened. We'd be humble and apologetic.

So we chose our room, put our stuff in it and then sat down on the room's porch. There we watched the moon come up and listened to the waves break - Derek's is also a stone's throw from the water - and we talked about how much better it is here and how if only we'd kept walking another five minutes, we would have found this place first and never suffered the debacle of Ensuenos.

For the first time in a couple of hours nothing was coming at us and it was very nice. But it was not a perfect moment. I was afraid to face Derek and Anna and explain how we'd just helped ourselves to one of their rooms. They didn't take reservations, we knew, so there was little chance that someone had claimed the room for tomorrow, but still, you don't just walk in to someone's spot and claim a bed, even if they don't have locks on their doors.

But it turned out ok. Anna found us before we realized they were back. Seeing the candles flickering in our room, she knocked... which was kind of nice really, because she had every right to barge right in, and with some kind of weapon to boot, but she knocked. And we explained and apologized and she said it was ok and she'd see us in the morning. I still feel weird about it though. Probably would have been a lot better if we'd waited in the dining room, but that thought just simply did not cross my mind.

So in the morning Michael will go back to Ensuenos and pay Ramon for the night and explain why we left and hopefully that will be that and we can finally relax.

 

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Derek's is on the sunrise side of Little Corn.

Morning light on conch shells, Little Corn Island.

Our room at Derek's, in the morning light. Little Corn Island.

Inside the room, Derek's.

No shoes allowed in the rooms at Derek's.

The grounds at Derek's.