Booty call *The missing footwear and phone

Try crossing that after a few too many!
Try crossing that after a few too many!


Waking in a mad dash with a forthcoming jet of piss at that painful point of no return. I was REALLY wasted last night and now as I fumble with this jarred zip I wonder if there is a worse place to let loose than in a tiny tent containing all your worldly belongings for the foreseeable future. I try the other zip and with its opening on first try I´m presented with the sight of one solitary, soggy looking boot..(?).. I had two of those before.

Struggling with my memory and the clues presented to me as I make my way to the main house where I´ll prepare some breakfast and perhaps find my phone, I pass my only pair of trousers lying dirty and soaking wet on the ground. This makes me wonder if I really want to know and when I find my fleece jacket close by in similar condition I decide probably not.

As per the norm, once you´ve made up your mind that you don´t want to remember, your memory starts to kick back.

“More wine, why not”?
Stagger, stumble, SPLASH!

Later on I´m informed more and this does help immensely combined with the wearing off of my self-induced headache.
Turns out I did actually make it across that tiny piece of wood we call a bridge that doubles up as an impregnable obstacle on the way to my tent. Not even my tent really which would have made it all the more harrowing/funny if I hadn´t got that zip open in time!

So I made it across I´m told then stumbled back a little and fell a fucker into the water below.

I remember now. I remember sitting laughing so hard as I sat soaking wet after being lifted out by Clement –French guy who´s come to visit for a few weeks-. Haven´t laughed so hard in a long, long time and understandably so did he. Maybe not aware of my missing phone and boot or maybe during the moment this actually just adds to how funny it all is, but fuck did we laugh!

“Getting you out the first time was easy, but the second..”

Wait, I fell in again!?

“No.. You went back in to get your phone.”


Two days my phone and boot lived at the bottom of that water and with this being a delta wherein the water levels are lowered and raised dramatically due to wind direction then I guess I should really count myself lucky that there was water down there that night to break my fall, but I can´t wait any longer though and so in I go one more time for a thorough search and whadaya know? I found my phone!

Are you a believer in miracles? Do you want to guess what happened? Does my phone still work? Does it fuck, it was submerged in water and sludge for two days. I can see water floating behind the screen however.. The SD card survived! My SD card that held about two thousand photos and videos. Time to buy a USB card and save that shit. Sooo fucking happy to get it all back. Took around two weeks for my boot, once found, to get back to being wearable again and spent the next week drying my jacket and trousers but from what I hear it was one damned fine night on the Delta.

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Buy the book now on Amazon Kindle



Nature calls

In a boat on the river Parana.. Not in the mood for a swim right now!
In a boat on the river Parana.. Not in the mood for a swim right now!

I ask while standing waiting for the boat “How long till I get here”? –pointing at the address I´ve been emailed-.

“Tres horas.” 3 hours


I´d been expecting twenty minutes or something, but hey I can handle remote. This will be different anyway. This much we can be sure of.

The boat –something like a barge- winds its way through narrow still waters and past a vast array of stunning and startling little houses including one completely encased in glass which I´d later learn belonged to a previous President but now is used as a museum. We also pass a half-submerged, old cruise boat. Encouraging!

After three hours I jump on to a small dock where I´m met by Nacho. I climb aboard his small boat and he rows for another thirty minutes until we reach his place. Now this is remote!

Instantly I´m eaten alive by mosquitoes like never before. I thought I´d be used to it after Bonito, but Hell no this is unlike anything anywhere in terms of these carnivorous little fuckers. My whole body burns!

Waking the next morning I find my tent, which is on a raised wooden platform, completely surrounded by water. This small island floods apparently and quite a lot it turns out. Interesting.

There´s a large wooden house between where my tent is and where Nachos small house is and this is where we prepare food, work sometimes and hangout when it´s too cold. It´s a truly amazing place so tranquil and away from everything. I love it here, I love being out of reach from the rest of the world where I´m left to get on with jobs such as varnishing the floors of the main house, widening the forest path and gathering wood for the fire we have to build to keep those mosquitoes down but also so we can have a nice wee barbeque at night while star gazing and knocking back the wine.

I could get used to this part of the world. If I thought the tropical desert island Aruba was remote then this place is something else with being approximately one thousand meters in length and a population of just two. I discover mate (South American tea) and become part of the furniture.

. . .

A group of Argie´s would descend on the first weekend to help with the insulation of a mud hut. It´s a nice wee project and a pretty cool bunch of people. A chance to learn some Spanish perhaps or just a chance to do something stupid?

That night I make my way back to the little tent and discover quite abruptly that I really need a big poo. My dilemma being that it´s late, dark and the girls are all sleeping in the room I´d have to pass through to take my big smelly dump.

In the woods and pointing my torch down while in position to make sure I don’t shit on the back of my shorts I proceed with my endeavours only to hear the unmistakable sound of a girl’s voice. “Andy”?  Surely not. I decide to dismiss the unmistakable sound as being just my imagination and continue with what I´m doing. I later look back and think ´Fuck, that was definitely a girls voice. Really, really close and she must have saw me having a shit and even pointing/highlighting at it with my torch! Well done Andy!

During my daily mission to prepare some porridge the next morning I find the gas canister empty. Being a master of fire by now I begin to gather some wet wood. Surrounded by water and armed with only a few shit matches I start to lose faith.

Help arrives in the form of someone I´m sure saw me last night at my most vulnerable and she arrives with a bountiful supply of paper to help start this fire. Toilet paper..Used toilet paper.

She´d found the toilet bucket from upstairs and I´m unsure as to whether she knows what this is or not, but she´s digging her hands right in there and placing it under my breakfast!

I refuse to touch that shit -literal-, but I´m breathing it in while crouching down to blow on the flames and get this porridge made. I think the others who soon came to help made the connection from the empty toilet bucket and the paper burning on the fire because about a platoon worth of porridge is now between two!

Own captions please..
Own captions please..
On Amazon Kindle
On Amazon Kindle