wattblog

Something you don't know about me: Spiders, Snakes and other icky things.

"Walking the streets, under the stifling afternoon sun, are girls dressed in long flowy gowns--with high heels that border on being stilettos strapped to their sweaty feet, their perfectly quaffed hair bending from the heat. They couldn't possibly be comfortable, especially since they're just going from home to the grocery store. My camo t-shirt, ponytail, and ripped jeans make me stand out like a sore thumb amidst these stunning women." -excerpt from my journal.

I was in my early twenties and Belem Brazil was a long way from home. Belem in a sentence--a beautiful port city where women look like super models and tarantulas crawl down the sidewalks as common as stray dogs in Mexico, or squirrels in British Columbia. (I hate spiders with the fire of a thousand suns. There's a good reason-but this is a story for another time).

I spent most of my time in Belem preparing for our trip up the Amazon River and avoiding tarantulas like the plague. Whenever I spotted one I would squeal and jump into the arms of my friend Josiah. He on the other hand thought it was funny to fart on them--so far this trip he'd successfully farted on a toad the size of a small cat, and on a one eyed parrot. But he had his sights set on a big hairy spider. The locals ignored the spiders, small boys jabbed them with sticks or road their bikes over them. From my seat, cradled in the fetal position in Josiah's arms, the Brazilians seemed so brave.

What I didn't know was that I was about to venture into a world that would make the urban spiders much less scary.

We awoke with the sun and readied our backpacks. I'm not a prissy girl but I do like stylish clothes, and clean underwear. I may have over packed, just a tad...I could hardly lift my backpack. (I should mention that I'm a red head and 5 minutes in the sun without sunscreen = burnt, like painful skin boiled burnt). So in my defense my bag had 4 bottles of 60+ block sunscreen. My friends rolled their eyes when I exited my room dragging the bag behind me. Josiah told me if I fall down he will fart on me, which I didn't doubt for one minute. But I just couldn't justify taking anything out, because the guy I was crushing on at the time, (his name is James and he's a buff sailor from New Zealand), was coming with us, I wanted to have everything I needed.

Translation: I needed to look cute and wearing the same shirt twice is never cute.

James picked up my bag and slid it over his shoulders, then handed me his. It was so light, I was positive it was empty. Or maybe it just felt light because I was hard-core swooning.

He sat beside me, our bodies squished together, in the taxi on the way to the harbor. He smelled like Old Spice, for which I will not complain. I tried to play it cool, but I was sweating like a pig, thanks to the taxi's air conditioning not working, and already regretting the decision to wear jeans. Belem is hot, unnaturally so, but I'm a jeans girl to the core, a little heat couldn't keep me from my lifetime dedication to denim.

Josiah, was squished on my other side, watching me wipe sweat off my forehead and clinging to James' backpack on my lap. Then he raised his leg and twisted his face in a look I've seen numerous times, the fart look.

There may have been some swearing from my other friends, but there definitely was a mass exodus to the windows. Lucky for us we were close to the harbor and didn't have to sit in his stench for long. So far he'd farted on a toad, a one eyed parrot, a dozen or so tarantulas, and now a car load of international travelers and friends--seems he got his wish to fart on me after all. (If you're curious to see what his fart face looks like see below. *yes this is actually him and he likely farted on that poor fish).