true jungle tales

I know it sounds a little extreme when I say I live in the jungle. It's not like I have to machete my way to the bathroom or anything. We have a car, running water, an internet connection (albeit a really really really crappy one). But recent events have made me feel more justified than ever in my jungly contentions.

As if seeing the odd howler monkey or toucan weren't enough.

1)

Our close friends got a puppy. A little black lab. They named her Fiona, and as soon as she stopped nipping at our ankles every chance she got, she was a kid favourite.

Fiona romped around with the kids for 2 months, and then - gulp! - got eaten by an alligator in our friends' lagoon!!!!!

The monster, forever a brilliant little wordsmith, coined the new term - fyummy - and consistently uses it now when he likes the food. Little did he know.

Fyikes!

2)

I've done my share of trekking, hiking, camping and roughing it. I've been to some of the most beautiful places in the Americas and in Australia and New Zealand. But always with my water-proof hiking boots, high-tech backpack, super lightweight tent, miracle stove, 1st aid kit and so on . I am such a gringa that way. (Alas, I got rid of all this stuff in the big move to Argentina, except for the 1st aid of course. Again, what a gringa.).

But not now. Now I wear flip-flops in the 45° heat, and so when my friends remind me that there could be snakes (of the deadly, biting kind) on the walk to the car on the way home, they instruct me to stomp my way there to scare them away. Stomp stomp, in the tall grass, with half-asleep monkey in my arms. Scram, snakes! 

3)

One of our current theories for why the car alarm suddenly goes off at 3am every now and then:

Assault by giant insect. I swear.