After kicking back a hat trick of Wendy’s Frostys in Tegu, my coworker Oscar and I departed for Trojes. Because it was an 8-hour drive, I had lots of time to grill Oscar about new future hometown of Trojes.
"So, when does that hot-ass damaged and ready for a rebound Peace Corps volunteer arrive in Trojes?"
"Oh, yeah. The Peace Corps decided that Trojes is so remote that it's unsafe for their volunteers to be there."
"Well, that's just weird."
"Yeah, and they don't even know about the political situation we are having there either."
I gave my bottle of malaria pills that I was or was not taking a little rattle for good luck.
We later arrived in Trojes. What's the population of Trojes? It's 6,000. What's the current gringo population in Trojes? It's 1/6000 the population of Trojes.
I met my local Spanish-only work team before being dropped off at my new place. Oscar had kept mentioning how nice my place was. And really it was. It was quite a nice farm. That night, I enjoyed unpacking to the sounds of gunshots, way-early roosters and random hissing. I tried not to think about how much I was already missing the smell of Lady Foot Locker back home.
I was pooped so I retired early. Though, turning off my room light was the signal for the disco next to my finca to initiate the cochlea-rattling music to obviously celebrate the arrival of the town gringo.
I lay awake respecting this significant moment in musical history. I appreciated that I was the first outsider to ever experience this undiscovered musical genre. Far from slumber, I passed the evening on my back blinking to the beat of this original fusion of Latin Muzak and the animal cacophony outside my window.
Adding up the aggregate time of blinking all night, I figured I slept for 7 minutes.
"Gustavo!" The finca owner was calling me from her porch.
"Yepper!"
"Did you tell the farm help kids that you are a vegetarian?"
"Proudly!"
"But that you sometime like the rich taste of children’s non-dominant arms?"
"That doesn't sound like me at all..."
"Well, I don't think they realized that you were joking as none of them showed up for work today."
I figured this was a good time for me to head to work.
For my first day of work, I was to take photos of our health orientation in a local community. And when I say local, I mean three hours into the jungle.
The first thirty minutes was fun. The other 150 minutes on the back of the motorcycle reshaped my prostate.
After discussing the importance of the filters we were offering, we celebrated with a massive feast of food and drink prepared without our filters by this rural to the rural community. While I was pondering our marketing sequence, my coworker reminded me to wash me hands before eating.
After work, I walked home to my farm enjoying a little game I like to play called 'what bit me today?"
Following my avocado and watermelon dinner, I retired to my quarters. After spending the first hour practicing Spanish curse words as I flicked beetles off my face, I decided to see my room situation in a more positive perspective. I decided to see my room as an entomologist's ideal room. I mean, you could see cockroaches in three different sizes: mutant sized, eats mutant sized and 'could be mistake for an armadillo' size. There were also a cute variety of mosquitoes that strangely liked to taunt me by collecting on my anti-malaria pill bottle. In my room, I also had never-discovered lymph-node-drinking beetles. There were also enough fireflies that allowed the spiders to cast shadows over my bed. Of course, there was also some playful creature on my roof showering me with terracotta dandruff. Though, I noticed that the plague-resistant fleas and ticks in my bed didn't seem to mind this falling dander. And for the hell of it, I couldn't figure out why some cicada kept trying to spoon me--dude, really I'm a top!
I finally feel asleep dreaming that I'd created a new teen perfume called Bedazzled Food Court. Sadly, before getting to apply my product on supple bodies, I was awoken. It seems that a cow decided to give birth right under my window in the middle of the night. It was disturbing--especially how erotic it sounded. Yep, I live on a farm.
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