Things at the farm didn't get any more normal, perhaps less scary but certainly no less wierd.
Juan took us into town the following day to explore the delights of his hometown, Juan Lacaze. Waving goodbye to the roof menders (who woke us with the noises that morning), the three crazy dogs (one like a donkey, one like a cat, and the other thankfully more representative of its own
species), the two horse siblings with their lame inbred daughter, the peep of chickens and the crumbling farmhouse we set off as a three. Juan driving his moped, me on the back and Jim hanging off Juan's shoulder on a bicycle. I did worry about the safety of our journey until I saw everyone else doing the same thing. Either the village has created a new mode of transport or they/we are all just plain stupid.
Juan took us into town the following day to explore the delights of his hometown, Juan Lacaze. Waving goodbye to the roof menders (who woke us with the noises that morning), the three crazy dogs (one like a donkey, one like a cat, and the other thankfully more representative of its own
species), the two horse siblings with their lame inbred daughter, the peep of chickens and the crumbling farmhouse we set off as a three. Juan driving his moped, me on the back and Jim hanging off Juan's shoulder on a bicycle. I did worry about the safety of our journey until I saw everyone else doing the same thing. Either the village has created a new mode of transport or they/we are all just plain stupid.We were on a mission to buy some lunch but Juan, despite his urgency to get going at 1.30pm precisely, forgot that between 1pm and 4pm the town shuts down for siesta time. So, we pootled around taking in the sights: the old abandoned paper factory, the new bigger and smellier paper factory, the empty harbour and the dirty river.
Juan, who decided only to wear his pants for the whole day, informed us that we sho
uld try not to breath all the paper fumes in too hard as they were thought to be poisonous and many townspeople had left after reporting illnesses and strange cancers. Although he had always felt fine he said. It was starting to make sense to me...
We sat by the river with a beer while Juan waded out to bathe, wave to his friends and take a piss (all worryingly at the same time). On his return we headed to the shops for food and cleaning products (I had to explain I was accustomed to washing my plate after using it and generally preferred to use toilet paper).
On returning to the farmhouse, Juan had drank all the cider we bought on route so decided to head back into town for more cider. Jim and I headed to the beach for some fresh air. On our return a few hours later we found Juan tucking into our wine explaining that he had given all his money to a girl instead.
Juan continued to get sloshed, insisting that we go out dancing. Hmmm, "where?" was the question that popped into my head but instead we politely said that perhaps it was difficult to travel anywhere from the abandoned farm at midnight. As if to prove us wrong 'Crazy Juan' jumped on his moped, still barefoot but fortunately popping a pair of shorts over his pants, to go out and 'see a girl'.
We started planning our prompt escape...
Juan, who decided only to wear his pants for the whole day, informed us that we sho
uld try not to breath all the paper fumes in too hard as they were thought to be poisonous and many townspeople had left after reporting illnesses and strange cancers. Although he had always felt fine he said. It was starting to make sense to me...We sat by the river with a beer while Juan waded out to bathe, wave to his friends and take a piss (all worryingly at the same time). On his return we headed to the shops for food and cleaning products (I had to explain I was accustomed to washing my plate after using it and generally preferred to use toilet paper).
On returning to the farmhouse, Juan had drank all the cider we bought on route so decided to head back into town for more cider. Jim and I headed to the beach for some fresh air. On our return a few hours later we found Juan tucking into our wine explaining that he had given all his money to a girl instead.
Juan continued to get sloshed, insisting that we go out dancing. Hmmm, "where?" was the question that popped into my head but instead we politely said that perhaps it was difficult to travel anywhere from the abandoned farm at midnight. As if to prove us wrong 'Crazy Juan' jumped on his moped, still barefoot but fortunately popping a pair of shorts over his pants, to go out and 'see a girl'.
We started planning our prompt escape...
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