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Solitude

Cléo and I dig around in old dirt piles in the temple first. I give her some pointers and make sure we can find the most out of it. Together, we dig up the base of an Observer Relic. I can’t wait to complete the relic and try it out.

Cyril ran down, all the way down past three gates to find a port-a-potty. He doesn’t see the irony in going against the plants and the jungle animals and the possible traps just to get to a fancy toilet. And then complaining about the insects he found there.

In other news, the food I brought was in my bag. You know, the one that now lives below quicksand. It was going to be okay though, because I thought we shouldn’t put all of our provisions in the same basket, and handed half of them over to Cléo before we left!

So Cléo has some food for us to munch on as dinner, right? She didn’t forget it, right?

Yes, she did. It’s very fresh, recently picked, but uncooked avocado and tomatoes for us tonight. I don’t mind, but Cléo and Cyril are a bit disgruntled. I promise them we’ll get a much more satisfying meal tomorrow morning, but I can tell from their hateful stares I’m really only making it worse.

In the meantime, the best I can do is also what I do best.

I get solving on the temple’s enigmas.

Some of them under the watchful stare of the omiscan llama god. Well, his statue.

I’m not saying I get it right every time. Far from that, in fact. I get the very first interaction with the temple guardian very, very wrong, and I get my first mystical touch of this trip.

And it’s a curse. A bad curse. I would rather have been turned back into a shiny blue skeleton.

Like a wave crashing on tired shores, I get overwhelmed by loneliness. The feeling that there’s no one in this world with me, no one who even wants to be with me, starting with my family.

And the dark side glances my siblings have been shooting at me don’t help.

Well, the side glances Cléo has been shooting at me. Cyril is still outside, trying to find more avocados, he said. Really, the three of us know he’s avoiding me.

Temple by Sunset

We’ve made it! The sun is setting over Selvadorada, right on time to hit the stairs to the entrance chamber. The golden sunlight casts the last of the cold shadows on the stone. We’re getting ready to climb up — or more precisely, I’m motivating the kids to get climbing.

Cyril is having none of it.  “Who even knows what’s inside that temple!” he says. “Curses and everything! You got turned into a skeleton once! I’m not going in there.”

I don’t force him into it — I’d feel terrible if he also got turned into a skeleton now.

What we find in the entrance chamber is far, far from curses and traps, though.

Apparently someone had a dance party in there!

Hopefully not the skeletons.

If I hadn’t lost my bag in the quicksand, I could probably rappel down that hole in the ground — guess we’ll have to go the long way around.

This time the traps are tricky ones.

And yet, it’s either we solve them, or we walk through electricity.

Oh, but I’m solving the puzzles.

Walking on the Edge

Another mile, another gate passed. I dropped my backpack in a patch of quicksand on the way, and no amount of swinging around with my machete could retrieve it. My desperate attempts did help me literally land on an old buried treasure chest when I lost my balance, so not all was lost.

This was mom’s favorite part of the forest. Way up there, where you can have a clear overlook of most of the southern side of the jungle.

From here, you can even clearly see our bungalow. I sort of wish I had a glider or something. Landing straight on the roof would be something else.

Maybe I could even land in the stream below. The water looks cool, refreshing, and I am burning up and covered in grass after all.

On the other hand, I could also crash on the rocks. I4ll just enjoy the view for now.

“Hey, Banhanna! I found some of these berries!”

One of each, in case we need them in the temple.

Over the Bridge

This is my favorite place in the Belomisian forest. The one I’ve been wanting to show the twins the most — after the Omiscan Temple, of course.

The waterfalls.

We cross the bridge above the chasm where rapid waters would wash us away in the blink of an eye if one of these old ropes were to give — or if a humid plank broke.

There, another gate. I start chopping at them. The sun has risen quite far since we first entered the jungle — I am starting to sweat already. This is probably my least favorite part, but at least the scenery is beautiful.

Cyril has finally found a purpose to his being here. He found an avocado tree and he’s picking a few of them to show Gram.

For a minute I’m under the impression that, invigorated by that discovery, he’s coming to help me.

He’s not. He’s mostly interested in the bush by the gate I’m clearing. I guess I can understand a nap, we did have a long day.  By which I mean, I dragged them to trek in a jungle after eight hours of flight.

Cléo has found something interesting of her own

She starts digging around a little more, in even more suspicious piles of dirt.

She’ll be giving me her findings to authenticate as soon as we come back.

Meanwhile, the gate and I are still in a one-on-one fight.

I’m determined to win this.

Unfortunately, so are the mosquitoes.

The First Gate

Here we are. The first belomisian test of strength — the gate to the depths of the jungle. I tell the twins to stand back as I whip out my machete. Long gone are the days when I would be the one to watch as Mom cut the overgrown branches down.

It’s possible I swirl it around a little too much and do a few unnecessary tricks, just to impress the twins.

Cyril is not watching, however. His nose is pretty much stuck on the sign near the gates, the one that clearly says “DO NOT. GO THERE.”

Luckily, it’s written in Selvadoradan, and Cyril can’t speak it.

What he can do, though, is tell what the pictograms mean, and the simplified, rain-washed spiders are no less terrifying than the “beware the tarantulas” warning.

Cléo is still standing a way back, watching.

Trust a twin to offer the best comfort. “It’s okay,” I hear her say. “Han knows what she’s doing, and I’ll hide you from the tarantulas if I need to.”

I hear Cyril giggle and conclude it was effective.

In the jungle, the mornings can get really cold. Cléo opted for the shorts, and she’s starting to wonder if that was such a great idea. It wasn’t really, but at least in a few hours she’ll be the only one of us who won’t be burning up.

While I work to destroy the branches, Cléo has kneeled next to a suspicious pile of dirt from whcihprotude what might just be old omiscan artifacts. She tries to encourage Cyril to dig around with her, but Cyril’s not about that. At all.

The path is cleared, and ready to be crossed. I’m the first to step through and clear the way. The most dangerous thing I run across is a family of capybara. One of their young is hurt, and by luring him with plants, I almost get close enough to inspect the wound — but I only manage to get bitten by one of its parents. So I decide to leave them through it — and I look for the next gate.

I made it! Now to go back to guide my siblings through.

Tales of Belomisia

What’s eight hours of flight when you know you’re going back to the place that feels most like home?

I guide the twins to the bungalow Mom and I have come to know so well. I do my best to contain my excitement, but I’m doing a terrible job at it. My heart is leaping around in my chest, and my voice gained two octaves. It’s easy to tell, too, because I can’t seem to stop blabbering. About the plants, the widlife, all the amazing things I hope to share with them soon…

At this point, archeology is not just my passion, it’s my full-time job. Will I ever get used to that feeling?

To be honest, probably not. Nor would I want to.

Do you have any idea how hard it is to motivate two teenagers to go on a hike through the jungle? It’s not like they haven’t had time to look up “Belomisian Forest” and read all about the mosquitoes, and the spiders, and the random curses…

So I start telling them a story. The story of the first omiscan kings, and how discovered how to trap spells into relics.

Cléo gets on board pretty fast. It wasn’t her I was really worried about anyway. She’s been dreaming of coming along with me ever since she was a kid. She engages with the story, and asks questions, and cheers when she’s supposed to.

Cyril’s a bit harder to convince. He’s not big on overseas vacations. As a proper aloof teenager, he’d rather have spent them in the comfort of our Newcrest home. We all know he only agreed to this because Cléo was excited.

But that’s not the plan, and I’m not one to give up. I continue with the story of the monkey and the sloth.

Now Cléo is excited. Even Cyril’s interest is piqued, if only a little bit.

Good enough for me! We’re ready for the jungle.

Early Breakfast

Today’s the first day of the fall holiday, and the twins and I have plans. We woke up earlier than the parents, and we take a nutritive, calorie-heavy breakfast.

We have a plane to take, after all.

Cyril is already dressed. He knew better than to wait for Cléo to be awake. Every day they fight for the downstairs bathroom, and every day each one of them spends an hour under scalding water — or however much hot water remains for the less fast of the two.

Sorry about the upcoming, literal cold shower, Cléo.

Dad, No

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Dad has escaped my eyesight again. He’s apparently run into someone he recognized from Plumbob knows where, and he’s striking up a conversation with her.

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Dad, let me catch you up. The teenage rules clearly state that you do not talk your daughter up to one of their romantic interests, no matter how much you wish said daughter would also join the scouts.

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And Redhead Scout also seems to think it’s sort of pathetic.

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This is a disaster. Even the blonde-haired stranger can tell, and she intervenes.

Pretty sure the damage is done, though.