The driver of the boat hopped out and helped us remove our bags. I noticed he was wearing a hat that said “Toronto Police” on it. What a small world I thought as I followed the rest of the squad up the hill towards the retreat.
We were happily greeted along the path by a very interesting character named Martine. He approached me and grabbed me by the arm and wrapped his limbs around me. I lifted him clear off the ground and he escaped onto the wooden railing of the stairway. He then noticed the woman in the summer dress and decided her hair was too lovely not to play with and pounced at her head.
Martine gave her a shock, but being a Woolly monkey and all, was easy enough to keep at bay. One of the male staff whistled at Martine and made a gesture, causing him to scurry off, just far enough ahead to make sure we were still following. That little guy didn’t leave our sides for the entire trip and I’ll never forget him.
We made our way to the main building. A kitchen and laundry area on the main floor, the second floor featured a large meeting area furnished with couches and hammocks (oh the hammocks, universe bless those hammocks). Adjacent to this room was an enclosed area with a large table used as the dining area. There was a small library and a bathroom in here as well.
The owner arrived and led us to our individual huts where we would be spending the next 12 days. We passed a large hut with a high ceiling that he explained was called the maloca. This is where the ceremonies would be held on nights we were taking Ayahuasca.
Now. The huts.
Sundress woman (im gonna need names for these folks…lets go with AJ) was about a minute away from the maloca along with woman and the cat(catwoman…umm…Michelle Pfeiffer). We walked another minute or so to where the Owner (…Owner is fine I guess) and the male guest (we’ll call him J Balvin) were housed. Then Owner led me to my hut. About a five to seven minute walk through the jungle.
Unable to outrun a jaguar for five minutes, I was pretty convinced my hut would end up being my tomb. Nevertheless, I checked the place out. Pretty badass set up for a hut in the middle of the rainforest. The outside of the house was fashioned with netting to keep out any unwanted guests. I had my own hammock in the main room and a bed with even tighter meshing in case my dumbass forgot to close my front door allowing mosquitos inside (which was pretty much a certainty). I stepped into the bathroom and my jaw dropped. I had a personal, flushing toilet and my own shower with above average water pressure.
This was a big fucking deal for me. Indoor plumbing. In the middle of the jungle. And even though I’m bald I can appreciate solid shower water pressure. I was stoked that if I had to use the bathroom I wouldn’t end up with bug bites on my ass or a snake swallowing my dick and given the humidity I was exposed to, a cold shower would be so god damn refreshing.
Things were looking up.