Almost a week ago already, my aunt and her friend came over to visit us for a few days. It was really fricking awesome and we jammed and talked and hiked. They're musicians and were playing shows in Berlin. We went on this one really awesome hike to the end of the world; that's what it was called. Mountains framing on each side, massive waterfalls plunging to their death in throttling veins every few half mile or so. We went through a mostly flat trail, but had to cross several many rushing, icing (because that's a verb) and trecherous rivers. No exaggeration, man. And the season was rather early, so the bridges weren't up. After our lovely lunch of bread, cheese and whatnot in a grass and dandylion field with aged cowpies mixed down under, ominous clouds creeped up and about half an hour into the hike, it started to rain. It was mountainous rain, but we were seasoned hikers. We told stories, jokes, and I stopped many times to take pictures. Then as I turned my head to glance at the now gray mountainside with the waterfalls, I noticed an amazing effect of nature- the wind would blow the water falling from the waterfall across, so it was like a slight, thin cloud or another dimension scraping across the rock.
We got right next to a waterfall at one point, but first had to cross a particulary hard river. At first we went up the river a bit, thinking the rocks looked more promising there. They weren't. With leaping jumps, Steve had crossed way before us and was already snapping pictures. My dad got over a certain part and tried to help me. I held his hand, trying to catapult all of my gravity (well, myself) to that certain rock, and hang on. It happened so slowly, of course. And there were splashes, of course. Almost sickeningly slow, with me jumping, putting my...self into Fate's hands (or maybe it was their feet, really- you'd think Fate would get their hands pretty full a lot of times) and then my feet going down... down... descending... not making it. Ker-plunk. Splash. The sound of a failure. Whatever you wanna call it. My feet nerves suddenly so aware of the icy sock clinging against my skin, and wet stuff plunging deep into my "water resistant" new shoes. An annoyed "agh" immediately escaped my mouth, and then laughter. While all this is happening, the things that make people react, made me react. As in, my feet suddenly kicking up a storm down in that dog-gone French stream. Get up! Out! No! Wet! Dry! Move! was basically my brain's message. But of course, the whole thing lasted as long as a snap of the finger, and it's the kind of thing where you just act. The ending of the story was that I got up eventually, but actually didn't really get anywhere. My dad let out a puff of annoyance, and then we seemed to laugh. Oh yes, I was smiling. Jeans wet, but just a few centimeters up.
So I guess that place didn't work.
We went back to the main crossing place, where I noticed a bridge folded up. At first I just saw the wire railings and thought "Gee, what a bridge failure", but this of course was not the story. There were hikers, the kind that hit the gym at 5:30 every morning and that you find at nature parks, carrying those backpacks and wearing sunglasses occassionally and maybe even spandex in part. The river wasn't so deep, and maybe about.... 10 feet across. Probably less. The rest of the group (i.e. my dad and my aunt's friend) had gotten across, and now we were left to find the least wet route. There were rocks here and there, but none seemed plausible. Unless of course, we were to magically increase our leg span and/or have courage/bravery/etc. One of the 5:30-am-nature-park people (who was French, I'd assume) pointed me to a spot that seemed rational to cross, and we all sqinted our eyes, considering it, while I scrunched my mouth in that way when you know you have to do something you don't really want to, normally something physical. I had to step on a largish rock next to the riverside, then there was a apparently secure log maybe two feet away. It was mostly perpendicular to me, which was helpful. Then there was another rock near that, and then you get to the middle area and can just go across.
Steve was there, my dad behind him, beckoning me to "stop being a sissy". Oh no, they didn't ever mention the concept or word in any shape or form, but sometimes we criticize ourselves, you see. After procrastinating the daring steps, frozen with fear (okay, not literally) at the icy water just... a few feet down. I cleared my throat, made excuses to my dad's encouragement until the French lady came back and handed me two walking sticks, the kind not made of wood. She demonstrated how to get across, using some basic French, gave me an encouraging smile and I turned to the new scene.
Well. I would swing a bit, debating mentally whether to just bite the bullet and to the fricking thing, and then my brain got the better of me. Or actually, maybe it was the body. Either way, it took a while before I just took the leap. ...And didn't die. Amazing, I know. And actually, I wasn't all that frazed from the concept of falling in, because unless your whole body slips, it seriously wasn't that bad.
We all got over eventually, of course, and then proceeded to overcome several more obstacles of the same nature.
On the way back of that particular river, we decided to just go with the railing. There were four wires, perhaps almost 5 feet from each other. I decided to slide across the wrong way, because I felt the most comfortable with my two feet on the left wire, my left arm on the left wire, and my right arm on the right wire. It was slippery, slightly amazing, and scary-ish. It wasn't such a big drop, and I wouldn't die anyway. The water rumbled a few feet below, and my eyes switched from looking down, looking across to my dad who was nicely holding the ropes together a bit and looking straight. Biting my lip. Trying to breathe. Making irked noises. It was really like those rope course things in real life.
It started climbing after the rain stopped, and then the sun came out. It was looking more and more like a desktop background as we glanced back. Green mountains pretty much on all sides, white waterfalls carving lines, and then snails. They don't lie when they mention the whole France-snails thing. I mean, I haven't eaten any yet, but there were TONS up there. One there, then one over there, on the right.. on the left... up ahead, on that leaf, on the trail.... it was interesting to see their mucusy head ooze back into their... shell as I pointed my camera lens right at the sneezer.
The hike was described at certain parts as "very difficult" and I had to give it to these guys- sometimes hiking maps are acurate. We couldn't see where the heck the trail went after the top, and then noticed a slight trail-resembling thing curving up to the left. It was right on the edge, and as we hiked up it to check it out, you had to cross a waterfall to get to the next part of the trail. Frankly, it was pretty suicidal. The edge of the waterfall was right there, and even though the water flowing down where you would cross wasn't even deep, I wouldn't do that ever. Like, ever. So we walked down again and made our way back to civilisation.
We jammed a lot; it was really exciting to have other musicians with us. We stayed up till almost midnight talking about facebook and the Internet and music and it was just the best thing ever.
Tomorrow I get to play rugby in gym because my math speciales teacher won't be there in the morning. Should be fun, violent, and I might utterly fail. I've never played rugby. I've read an autobiography of a famous rugby player, saw Leatherheads, and have watched a good number of American football games, so maybe it won't be so terrible. I also won't be having French math for about another week, since the teacher is busy with his new....kid I guess.
English math exams soon... we have to listen to some tape and answer stuff quickly or something. Sigh. Sometimes I get very annoyed with this system.
I've revived my idea on doing a documentary, except it would be maybe a bit more Michael Moore-ish. I mean, there's no way you could even try comparing what I would make to his stuff, but just I'd list some facts, show stuff... I dunno. Imagining. Fantasizing.
Oh. And I've also been pretty interested in radio now. Like, being a DJ and stuff. In fact, ever since I was a kid I've sort of always wanted to do a radio thing. My dad would always play NPR in the mornings while he did the dishes, and I'd hear it before going off to school. We listened to A Prairie Home Companion on Saturdays ocassionally, laughing with our ears turned slightly towards the speakers. I don't know if I'd be able to not stutter and say stuff clearly, but I can try. One of my friends' dad is a DJ apparently for the U of M station WCBN 88.3 FM. So that's cool.
Me: So Claire... I might be on the radio sometime 'cause like-
Claire: Oh yeah! You told me about that! That's cool!
Valentine (other English friend): What station?
Me: 'Cause yeah. It's in the States. A college one-
Claire: So is that another one of the things you wanna do when you grow up? Be on the radio?
Me: Uh well sort of-
Valentine: When Amelia grows up, she's going to change the world.
51 days left. You know, the world can be pretty fricking awesome sometimes.
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