Magic Mushrooms and Don Peyote.

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Copan, 01 marzo 1990.
We bribed some of the guards so we can camp here overnight. Peter is still dressed in his dirty blue jeans and sweaty T-shirt, half drunk on Salvavida beer and skinning up the first joint of the evening while Rona, his afro-american girlfriend, is busy eating the last of the food we took with us from the village this morning.
The main topic of tonight, and that what gets us all very excited, is lying on top of James' sleepingbag....a big transperent bag full with dried mexican Magic Mushrooms and nine light green cactus pods that were wrapped in a yellowish old mexican newspaper and Peter claims are Peyote buds.
While taking a few drags from our joint - mexican pot, what else can it be? - I can feel my head going back to the Carlos Casteneda books I read during my late teens.
The pod is getting me light in the head and if I had any doubts about what we're about to participate in....well, let's say they're disappearing in the honduran night.
Me and James, we talked about this back home before setting out on this trip agreeing when the opportunity would present itself we would go for it.
Well, I presume this is the opportunity.
James is waiting with open excitement opening the bottle of californian Red Wine we bought in Miami and have been dragging along for just this moment.
The dark of night is now quickly taking over the light that ruled the day and above us I can hear the shrieks of the many parrots that are settling down for the night in the huge ceiba tree we are camping under, the joint is doing its work and the heat of the Red Wine is getting me mellow and relaxed, James and Peter have started a serious discussion about with what to start...Magic Mushrooms boiled in tea or the cactus pods that we'll just eat the way they come.
Not very far out I can hear the consistent yelping of coyotes while Nora passes the joint to me talking to me but I don't understand a word she says.
I take another drag and feel how the hot mariuana invested smoke is entering my lungs, Nora's chatter is getting more incoherent but also more insistent.
Her big dark brown eyes are trying hard to capture mine but I avoid her mysterious looks and getting up walk over to our campfire helping James to break down the Magic Mushrooms into small chunks getting them ready for the rusty old tea kettle we got from the old lady back in the village that runs our hotel.
I presume it'll be the Magic Mushroom tea first before we'll move on to the Peyote thing tonight.

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