Recently I went to a friends birthday party - we went via Bealy Ave into town. There were a few "boy racers" going in the same direction. Other than that, there isn't much other similarity between reality and this blog.

The Ecosystem

Monkeys, Toucans, Elephants, Jaguars, Birds of Paradise, Crocodiles, - they were all there. The typical Hollywood Jungle scene mixing the fauna from Africa with fauna from South America (with a nod to PNG). And how could I forget the Insects? Hoards of unnamed flying malaria carrying invertebrates swarm around the overheated and muddy, pith helmet wearing visitor with seemingly vengeful attitudes. Who could blame them...... The sound of this menagerie - the same sound that had incessantly gone on for thousands of years is suddenly broken. A sense of disquiet is evident in the faces of the elephants that are cooling themselves off with a nice long drink. Crocodiles slip into the water as if they know where the action is going to be. Eccentrically coloured heron suddenly take to the air with a proprietary warning call that is even weirder than their previous noise that they were making. Then an uneasy stillness settles over the rain forest. and through it all, on a moss covered limb of a ancient, vine strangled mahogany tree that had stood there for many monsoons overhanging the waterway, the poison dart frog sat, throat bulging, singing it's heart out like Michael on NZ idol, oblivious to the scene unfolding around him.

DIN DIN DIN... the mechanical sound of a boat smashed its way through the now tranquil primeval Jungle, creating sound waves that shook the leaves of the baobab tree that was looking out of place in it's wet surroundings. The engine sound slowed to an idle and the captain stopped in the shade under the moss covered mahogany tree. Without stopping his tune, the poisonous frog peered over the edge of the limb at the flies that had been attracted to the unfortunate captain. Hunger burned inside the diminutive digestive tract of the amphibian. The consequences of such a leap could potentially be annoying - he would have to make the return journey to his ancestral home, but on the other hand, being hungry while a feast is only a leap away isn't fun. He jumped. Snatching a few insects on the way down, landing on the tightly wrapped raincoat that the captain brought - a seemingly wise precaution when you go to a place called the "rain forest".

As the other boats approached - they were in a convoy of sorts, the captain of the lead boat began to brief the others on what was up ahead. There was a glut of "Minor" obstacles on the journey to the treasure, but such things don't deter the intrepid.

If the poison dart frog understood English, he would have heard the Captain of the lead boat. "We're nearing the ylaeb " explained the captain "it is used as a rite of passage for the local natives - to go from childhood into irresponsible adolescenthood." he reached into his waterproof box where he kept his energy drink and continued to explain "When a young boy gets his first canoe, it is a special moment for the whole community. A solemn ceremony is performed and the almost adolescent takes to the river in search of a race." With a prestidigitational twist of his bronzed muscular wrist, the Captain opened the bottle and set it down again. "Other youths will congregate at these rapids that are just round that bend to race." he drained the bottle in two swigs, his pupils dilated as the drink energized him. With a cough the engine started again and the convoy was off again on their quest for an unnamed treasure, not sorry to have a breeze to deter the insects.

"BOOM BOOM BOOM BOOM BOOM..." the drums in the back of the dugout canoe shook the water, rattling the body kit on the fire-engine red stained outrigger next to it.”BOOM BOOM stchak BOOM BOOM stchak..." replied the outrigger, a neon glow was visible just under the waterline - iridescent beetles were carefully rubbed on the surface of the watercraft to give it that menacing radiance. The young native at the helm clutched the small racing rudder handle with a passive and hidden euphoria - this was his turn. With a plop, the ripened mango fell into the water signaling the start and they were off down the rapids. Winning wasn't the main thing, (although there was prestige to be gained) it was the participation that made you feel like you had finally made it.