More on Rainsong.

Ok. So more details on why this trip is nothing like i imagined.

The farm itself.
Not so much a sanctuary reforestation project. Instead, imagine an obese Texan woman in the somewhat advanced stages of syphillis carrying a baby monkey with maggots around on one hip while ordering others around with a cigarette pointer. imagine caged birds who she says are there bc they can{t fly escaping during feeding. imagine spoon feeding said birds egg and papaya and banana-which cannot touch and a 3-limbed monkey peeing and biting you because its so sick of being in its tiny cage with no company and getting quilled by porcupines because even though they{re supposed to be friendly, theyñre wild animals and thats what happens. Imagine hiking through mud to reach the supposed farm part and instead finding a personal garden where mulch is actually wet twigs, strangler figs are ripped out to make room for North American ginger, and volunteers are yelled at for planting two yellow bushes next to each other, when they should alternate with the pink. Imagine being sent home at 11 each morning because of rain outs only to sit in a mildewy guest house while howlers, which start out fun to watch, quickly become annoying as they howl and throw coconuts at teh corrugated tin roof as you try to sleep.


Things since then have been rocky. we had a great weekend in Montezumam, but spirits have fallen. So much to say, but I don{t feel like going over it now. Becca is going home tomorrow. My plans are still uncertain. I{ll be in chicago for thanksgiving, though.