OZ Exists

Yesterday I was washing my clothes in the sink when I thought, “Sure would be nice to have a washboard.”

Last night at the bar, I got in the face of a guy starting a fight and said, “Buddy. Take a hike.” (in slightly more colorful language).

This morning, for breakfast, I ate sliced mango with lime juice, papriki and chili powder.

Last week I jumped a horse at full speed, pet a sting-ray under water, jumped off a cliff inside a cave, slept in a treefort 15 feet in the air in the jungle, saw bugs as big as frogs and frogs as big as cats, witnessed the sky turn black with floating termites, walked in the rain until all my digits pruned, held hands with a spider monkey, jumped in mud puddles two feet deep, pulled coconuts down from trees and sucked on sugar cane growing near the beach.

A couple of nights ago, I had dinner at a table where five different languages were being spoken.

Washboards on wish lists? Bouncing bars? Pepper on fruit? Wild encounters with the wild? Languages I can´t understand? Who am I? Where am I? And how did I get here?

I don’t know. But I think I rather like it.