A bit odd, but...

So here´s a mass email a few of us put together. But I figured I´d post it insstead. By the way I think this will be it untill next time(like 2 and a half weeks). But keep those emails´a flowin´. But here it is in all it´s glory: we have returned to civilization. it was 3 weeks with no electricity but shakira, the
turkey, made of our candle wax kept us company. amy did not shower. emily showered.
but rarely. we ate beans breakfast, lunch, and dinner. they were hard. like the peas.
both gaseous. the grass wall allowed for ventilation. senor calorama and his trusty
propane tank our only heat in a bleak, dark expanse called the fucking paramo. it is a
grassland, hence the walls. we own live fowl. zarpar, pele, and stew. our landlord´s
turkey, shakira is the real star, though scrawny. need we say more. i don´t know, but
enough of that. onward. upward, rumiloma field camp is high. simulating a run is so
incredibly simple. walk to the bathroom and return to the kitchen to make muffins with
chickpea flour. they are a little strange. but then again, we have no refrigerator,
fruit, or vegetables. once again beans. rotten potatoes in soup. but we love it. 0500
wake up. crack o dawn. emily is stuck in her sleeping bag. zipper broken. the sucker
needs to pee. amy turns over and continues snoring. kate, did realize amy snores.
sorry about that. 0600 birding. the shining sunbeam hummingbirds feast on puya flowers.
weird spiky desert like things. amy sucks with the binocs and rarely catches a glimpse
of these fat hummers. emily is a more advance binoc wearer though the strap gives her a
rash we term neck hickeys. we both don´t know how to spell. 0700 emily falls into a
spikey puya. oww. she states in a monotone. she is not hurt. she triumphs.
catherine, our fearless instructor, falls next. she drools. this is her signiture move.
0800 return to camp, more food. 0900 rain. 1000 more rain. we are living in a fucking
cloud. it will rain for four more days. 1100 the realization sets in that our remain
food is ecua cheese and amor, the cookie of our dreams. sometimes, the cookie crumbles
our way. 1200 we can eat again. 1300 out in the field. botany up the ningar. we sight
calamagrostis sp., gynoxys sp., valeriana sp., heliana weddeliana, spectacled whitestart,
the great thrush, tawny antpitta, and the grass wrens serenades us with a reenactment of
its own electrocution. 1400 news from the outside world via steve a man with a bear and
british accent. he calls baseball upside down cricket. his spanish sounds like
hilarity. 1500 sam wants to play squints again. we say no to quarters up the ass. 1600
return to camp. realized the beans are´n´t cooking. we´re fucked. hard beans again.
1700 grinelling in the grass hut. drafty and terrorfying. 1800 kamikazi moths
incinerate themselves in our candle flames. we thought the grass wren would go first.
1900 dinner. beans. its not too bad. plate bang in order. 2000 damn its late. dark,
too. we brush our teeth with giardia laden water. alpacas shit upstream. reminesce
about our daze of alpaca wrangling. kristina wants to castrate one. 2100 hard core
dance party planning. catherine gives a preview. no drool surprises us. oh, spoke too
soon. there it is dripping down now. we need to name the day. then to bed with a
sleeping bag, hot tang, and sunken in beds. we are done with you kids. later chaps.

amy, emily, sam
sorry we are a strange crowd, but we like you guys. keep it real and be happy. expect
another installment in 3 weeks when we return.

A bit oddly spced, but I´ve got to run. Keep in touch!