Benbrook78

Somewhere along the line, wiseass software developers such as myself made a resolute decision to include progress bars at the bottom of web browsers to indicate how far along it is in downloading the requested web page. This decision was made either in total ignorance or sardonic mockery of the average Wi-Fi connection in a South American hostel. Which is why, seated cross-legged in a huge, over-stuffed armchair at the Palm Tree Hostel in Medellín, I have spent the past six minutes staring like a fool at the colorful little bar on my screen that cheerfully reports 75% success in downloading my email inbox while the rest of the window shows nothing but a blank hypertext void – on the fourth attempt. The sound of laughter pulls my attention up from the screen. Across the ... read more

Into Colombia The bus pulls over to the shoulder of the two-lane mountain pass and stops. I can't imagine why we would want to stop here. I'm sitting at the very back, and can't really see to the front where the driver is saying something to someone through the window. A moment later, the door pops out and slides over and a man dressed in camo steps onto the bus. He surveys the passengers from one side to the other for a few seconds, then clears his throat. "Ok can I get all the men to step off the bus, please?" He says something else as he steps back off onto the grassy shoulder, but I can't make it out at this distance. My first assumption is that this is a military checkpoint. They'll take all ... read more

Teleportation I sit perched on the edge of the boat's bow with my bare feet dangling in the water. This isn't one of the long, wooden river canoes, but the fiberglass outboard motor boat we had when I was a kid. Rusty orange. Thirty-five horsepower. This isn't even the Napo River. It's a lake somewhere in Oklahoma. I am sitting at the very front of the bow - just on the port side where the two halves of the hull come together at a point. I look out at the expanse of the lake and try to identify it. Definitely not Tenkiller. Not rocky enough. Bar-Dew? Could be. Grand, Hulah, Skiatook? Maybe. Beside me on the coarse synthetic excuse for a carpet of the deck is a Zebco rod and reel. Actually, the Zebco is sitting ... read more

A blood-curdling scream rips me from sleep and carelessly drops me into consciousness. For several seconds, I have no idea where or when I am. I sit up and look around in the darkness - straining to see. Pieces of reality fall into place and I become aware of the empty deck of the Cabo Pantoja. Beyond the railing I see the village of Pantoja itself dimly lit by the moon and deadly silent. But what was that sound? Far off to my right and at the back of the boat, I hear the bubbling clucking of a rooster. In the darkness, I can make out the faint outline of a small cage that someone must have brought up from the depths of the lower level cargo hold. The rooster crows again. The sound is warbled ... read more

On the fourth day, the grey, marbled blanket of clouds is still there and stretches out over the Napo sky. The jungle scene is still there and drifts past our field of view. At times, the series of tree clusters and small coves seems to be an exact repeat of what we saw not two hours before. It reminds me of some 60's Saturday morning cartoon where the animators reuse the same strip of five buildings over and over in the background while characters zoom along in a car. I am Fred Flintstone in God's own low-budget creation. But that isn't fair. The jungle wasn't designed for speed. You have to pass it on foot. Only then can you see every last leaf as a unique key frame in an endless sequence. The passengers are ... read more