The Night I Discovered That I'm Not JungleWoman

Now. I really shouldn’t have been surprised about this. I have enough difficulty killing a spider at home without screaming. Once, a spider I found in my home was so big, that I dropped a book on it, maybe successfully killing it, but I couldn’t bear to look, in case I hadn’t been forceful enough. The book stayed on the spider for several days, while I carefully avoided the area, until reinforcements dropped by and bravely checked for me.

But for whatever reason, my brain decided that it would really wholeheartedly enjoy a jungle-woman-esque existence. One that featured friendly (clean) monkeys, graceful birds, and of course, high-speed wifi.

I clung to this idea when I had my first jungle experience:

It was my birthday and I was on vacation in Panama, the first jungle-ish-area I’d been to. I was determined to live out these magical dreams and chose to go on a 60-minute ‘gentle jungle hike’, as it was advertised. This seemed like the perfect introduction to what I imagined would be a lifetime of close encounters with monkeys, and most definitely, a treehouse in my future.

First of all, it was humid. Unlike anything I’d ever experienced, essentially feeling like I was breathing steam constantly. Not much fun, but ok, I’ll work with it.

Next, the wet season (ahah…year-round in the jungle?) had made the mossy ground even springier, wetter, and of course, incredibly slippery.

Slipping on ice back home in Canada is a right of passage. You aren’t truly a Canadian unless you’ve fallen flat on some, or all, body parts. Bonus Canada points if you bruise your tailbone and can’t move or sit comfortably for 6-12 weeks after the fall. Slipping on ice means a few embarrassing seconds and sometimes, some bruises or small injuries. But ultimately, you stand (carefully) back up; and continue. In the jungle, when you fall, or any part of your body touched the ground, it was immediately swarmed by bugs. Spiders. Big and little. Ugh. So even if the hand rails are provided, you can’t use them because they are literally alive.

Finally, there are wild animals in the jungle, and when you’re exploring on foot, good luck outrunning them. I don’t know why this didn’t occur to me before the adventure.

Suffice it to say that I managed to survive this excursion. And in fact, it only dampened my jungle-living fantasies slightly.

So fast forward to my current adventure. Safari parks in Sri Lanka.

Because time was limited, I picked a lovely sounding hotel near the entrance of the Safari gate. Usually my ‘must haves’ for hotels or hostels include wifi, and safe storage or lockers. Breakfast is a definite plus, and hot showers are also on my ‘nice to have list’. Location/safety trumps just about everything else.

I arrived at the hotel and discovered that the promise of wifi was hollow. No connection from the hotel, or anywhere close by. One major point down. But staying positive, figure that I can live without internet connectivity for a few days, and the break might even be nice.

Because of my early Safari start the next morning, the owner told us he could pack up the included breakfast for the journey. Definitely a strong perk of staying in smaller, family-run accommodation.

The room was large, with a terrace, and air-conditioning (a definite bonus in 30° weather). It also had another unexpected, unwelcome resident.

Moving at a truly terrifying speed, was a massive spider about the size of a tennis ball (ok. So I don’t live in Australia, or a part of the world where outdoor animals can kill you) so not knowing whether one miss might end my trip early, I did what anyone in their right mind would do. I gasped and jumped out of its immediate reach, slipping my shoes on and grabbing a suitable weapon (a heavy ‘Sri Lanka’ photo book on the table).

Thankfully my travel partner came knocking in the middle of my deliberations on the best course of action. Rising to the occasion, he masterminded a plan of action (kill said spider), and helped (read: did basically all) the the dirty work.

After a general sweep of the room told me I didn’t (currently) have any other major animal roommates, I finally climbed in to my pristine bed.

Not five minutes after being in bed, I was startled awake by a loud animal-y shriek from outside the door.

Turns out that having monkeys around, especially at nighttime, is not particularly relaxing. There goes that fantasy.

And then there was the constant scuttling in my room. Something was definitely sharing my space. But I was torn between looking for it and knowing what it was, and blissfully pretending it was outside and couldn’t get in. (Plus I had my bags closed and off the ground – impenetrable right?). Need I say that I slept with a light on, and it’s questionable exactly how much sleeping took place.

So with that one night in a Safari hotel, I think I may have finally realized that I’m not destined to play my own life version of Jane and Tarzan.

Until I forget, and decide to try again another time.