Moving to a different country is one thing, living on a plantation is quite a different matter. I’ve always had the potential to be a bit jumpy, just ask the barman at Camping Nauta, who recently got the shock of his life when he came up behind me whilst I was busy leaning into the ice cream freezer. “What are you doing in there!” he jokingly growled. My answer was a bloodcurdling scream, bringing staff members and customers running to see who it was in obvious danger, only to find the poor barman with his hands in the air in full surrender position, repeating, “I never touched her, I never touched her!” whilst glaring at me in disbelief. The only person who didn’t come running to my aid was Richard; he was sat with his head in his hands.
“You never came to my rescue, anything could have been happening to me!” I said accusingly, handing him his ice cream.
He just gave me a knowing look. You see, he’s been subjected to my irrational, hysterical screams on several occasions over the years, and since we moved here there has been an abundance of them. Let me explain. I was practically raised by two older brothers, who thought it was tremendous fun to hide under the bed, in closets, etc, and wait until I was almost asleep, before jumping out and scaring the dear life out of me. So now, even as an adult if anything makes a sudden move, or someone creeps up behind me, my first instinct is to scream, and scream I do!
So, getting back to the plantation, I’m pretty sure that you can imagine that there are lots of scurrying things around here, and couple my jumpiness with the fact that I’ve got an overactive imagination, and BOOM! the girly screams are in overdrive. Or maybe I should say, ‘were in overdrive’, because after the first few months of screaming at my own shadow, I decided that things had to change. I had to grow up and get used to the fact that although, mice, cockroaches, rats, lizards and geckos, to mention just a few, weren’t the best neighbours I’d ever had, they were here before me, they will be here after me, and they are more scared of me, than I am of them. “They are more scared of me then I am of them,” is now daily chant.
With all of that in mind, now is the time for all things tiny on the plantation. Everything it would seem has hatched, from rodents to reptiles, and everything in between. So we have an abundance of small creatures leaving their parents and looking for homes. Needless to say, some of them, it seems, would like to share our home with us. A definite no, no! And although I’ve come to terms with the little critters, when Richard opened the bedroom window the other morning and a baby lizard jumped in and ran under the bed, I didn’t scream, but was determined that it had to be removed. I stood at what is my side of the bed whilst Richard laid prostrate at the other side. What he intended to do, goodness only knows! But once the creature saw him it made a dash and headed straight for me (I should add, at this point, the bare footed me), I with my new resolve did what I do best and screamed as loud as my lungs would allow. The lizard made a detour and jumped into one of my empty slippers by the bedside. I quickly rolled up the rug my slippers were on, then handed the bundle to Richard and told him to take it to the garden while I kept Lola busy, who by now was peering through the screen door wondering what all of the fuss was about. One of Lola’s very favourite things is chasing the lizards, and this little chap had had enough excitement for one day.
Lizard safely dispatched, we got on with the rest of our morning. But as we were about to leave and go to the beach, Nico, the plantation owner, came over and looked me up and down.
“You ok Señora, everything good?” he asked with an inquisitive look on his face.
“Muy bien,” I replied getting into the car.
It wasn’t until we were at the beach and I gave the conversation with Nico some thought, that I realised he was looking at me strangely because he must have heard my scream earlier and was trying to ascertain whether or not Richard was in some way responsible. Like us, Nico hasn’t quite got the full grasp of how things work around here!
Anyway, that’s about it for now, but I’ll be back soon.
The photo below of the baby cricket on the screen door was taken the other morning, that’s my unkept little fingernail next to it. So cute, so tiny; the other one is of a baby gecko that had moved into the house and decided to make a home in my dressing-gown, he was rehoused in the greenhouse. We did learn quite quickly to shake any item of clothing before putting it on, and also to check that nothing had set up residence in a shoe before sliding one’s foot into it. The last photo is a baby rodent of some sort that Lola decided she’d like to play with, (her playing with the creatures never ends well for them, hence the need for a distraction when Richard had the lizard in the rug). The rodent and gecko were both about the size of a one euro coin. All very cute, but as the landlord said with a grin on his face as we signed the contract, “No pets, No, No, No,” emphasising his words by shaking his finger back and forth. Then, with a huge grin, and look on his face that said, ‘I’ve just remembered something else,’ he announced proudly, “We give you pet; we give you Lola!”
Luv ya, hope you enjoy the stories, if you do, feel free to tell your friends and family about us.