On cold fall days it is often enjoyable to relax and think about the fun times that were had over the past summer. It's either that or skip classes, drink a gallon of hot apple cider and watch all three "Back to The Future" movies. Although I would rather be doing the latter, unfortunately I don't have any cider.
This past summer my family and I went on a vacation to Martinique, a quaint little island with lovely beaches and roads paved mostly out of bull dung. The national pastime there is laughing at tourists, and the national bird can peck a grown man's eyes out in seconds. Martinique is actually a province of France -- when I say the national past time is making fun of tourists, that is France's pastime as well.
To have fun on the island, my family decided to rent a car, drive up some mountain roads and hike further up a dormant volcano. This trip didn't seem that tough, assuming we had the G.I. Joe special forces at our disposal.
On the morning of the journey we were all ready to go. By "ready" I mean we had about half our weight in insect repellent lathered on our skin. The insects didn't stay away from us; they just became fossilized in a flood of repellent. I think that's actually the truth about those mosquitoes found fossilized in amber from the dinosaur age. That's no amber; it's actually a chunk of bug repellent that fell off a primitive tourist who was trying to repel mosquitoes the size of his face.
Primitive kid: "Dad, I want to see the velociraptor up close!"
Primitive tourist dad: "Shut up and put on more bug repellent."
Back to the incoherent story at hand. My family and I rented a crappy little European car. Once in the car, we tried to find our way up the mountain using only a map that resembled a diagram of a McDonalds' play land. Soon we turned off of the "main road" and onto a "secondary road." Apparently this meant that the road was secondary in quality to, say, a rundown mountain bike trail. Keep in mind that we were in a small French mini-van that must have been powered by a single nine volt battery. For some reason we got stuck half way up one of the inclines.
So, all of us got out of the van except my dad, who floored it and got the car up that particular hill. The rest of us began hiking up the road after the car. While hiking, I noticed something on the side of the road. I decided to inform the others but didn't want to frighten them. So I calmly pointed and yelled, "BUUUULLLLL!!"
My family and I bolted up the road with our legs moving in a circular motion, much like the Road Runner. We then looked back and realized that the bull I had seen was actually chained to its spot on the side of the road. This, however, did not stop me from running until I was well into my 30s.
Meanwhile my father was realizing that our rented matchbox car was not going to make the journey, at least not as long as the trip entailed going uphill. My father began attempting to turn the van around. While he was doing this, a little European car drove up, and the man inside said something urgent in French. For the first time that day I successfully communicated in French by saying, "I can't speak French." Since we didn't speak the same language, the man used several hand gestures and a cartoon he quickly sketched to express to me that my dad was about to back off a cliff.
After deciding against that particular turn around spot, it seemed the only clear place to turn around was in the bull's area. By "clear" I mean blocked off by a massive animal with horns. Luckily, the bull merely watched and laughed hysterically at our situation.
Once my dad had turned around, he roared down the incline at the van's full speed (equal to the top speed of a wild cheetah with only one leg). We watched as the "Little European Van That Could Not" flew up the incline and out of our sight. My dad used the momentum to take him straight on to Indonesia. The rest of us were left hiking after him.
Eventually we got in the van and retreated away from the volcano. We actually saw an excessive amount of nature that day, much of it of the stinging variety. I learned that to make such a journey, one should obtain a guide, a gondola and the G.I. Joe special forces, including Snake Eyes and Sergeant Slaughter.
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