One more night at Robert’s house. I lay in this tropical mobile home surrounded by the sounds of the rainforest. The coKEE (properly spelled coqui) frogs cry out for mates incessantly. The geckos chirp here and there and the neighborhood dogs erupt in frequent bouts of barking, one attempting to outcall the next. It’s a complicated world of communication out there – a complex world of messages that I can only ignore with earplugs, a necessary tool round these parts for sleepy visitors. Robert says he doesn’t notice any of these sounds anymore. Now that’s a local.
Today, T and I spent the day breaking the rules. We quickly caught onto the fact that when Hawaiian signs say, “don’t go here”, that is likely to be the very spot you’ve been awaiting. So, we swam in beautiful pools of cool river water beneath tropical rains and towards gorgeous waterfalls. We climbed along slippery ledges coated in jungle mud. The gigantic leaves all around coated us in cool rainwater as we dripped with humid sweat. We came out from this mass of green to find ourselves standing atop another beautiful waterfall – but don’t go there. It’s not allowed.
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