Yes. It’s me. Flying over the jungle like Tarzan. A clumsy, terrified Tarzan, to be sure. A Tarzan shouting, “Oh sh*t!” rather than “Aiyeeaiyeeaiyeeeeee!” or whatever he shouted as he swung from his vines. But today, Lorri and I did what we promised ourselves we would do at least once on this trip despite any quibbles and cowardice. We went zip lining.

It was harder for Lorri because we had to climb for 45 minutes to get to the top of the mountain to start the course. Aside from just getting over the effects of drinking some Don’t-Drink-the-Water, she has health problems that made it a struggle. Lucky for me, my dogs have kept me in good shape so I enjoyed the climb. For Lorri-the-Brave, it was an act of endurance.

But holy cats, the downward journey was heart-stopping. We were both scared out of our wits the entire time. But so proud of ourselves afterwards.

And here’s Lorri, zipping down the steepest and most heart-dropping leg of the course — with rocks and raging water below (though unfortunately you can’t see those in the pic).

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A few pix from my adventures. Apologies to those on slow connections, but I haven’t mastered the art of creating clickable thumbnails on this site yet. I’ll work on that.

This is the view — such as it was — from the window of our $8/night hostel (in the local Big City where we spent our first three nights). Wasn’t as scary-bad as it looks, though it was definitely very “basic.”

How the other half lives. We've seen a ton of contrasts here -- sumptuous wealth side-by-side with deep poverty. But this yacht -- complete with private helicopter! -- took the conspicuous-consumption cake. Spotted at a marina near the local Big City, it seemed likely to belong to a rich American. Later, we ran into a number of American boat-dwellers, most living way more humbly than this.

Speaking of contrasts, this is the village where we stayed in the Wayback-Outback. The two-story house to the left of the bridge was a chief’s house, where we rented rooms (thanks to friend-of-friend connections). Though one of the more “modern” homes in the village, it had no electricty or indoor toilet, and I saw water come out of the taps only twice. The structure is of concrete with a corrugated metal roof, but three walls of our bedrooms were of woven bamboo — whose gaps theoretically let in light and breezes, but actually mostly let in noise.

Birthday girls. On the right, my friend Lorri. On the left, a 90-year-old whose name we never did catch. We were invited to her birthday party after I used my few words of Furrin to tell everybody we met that it was Lorri's birthday. The women of the Wayback-Outback were marvelously imperious and clearly ruled the roost. Though we towered over them, they could make us feel we were being thoroughly looked down upon and judged. But they had a great sense of humor, too, and could be a hoot once you got to know them a little.

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