On this auspicious night I determined the only reasonable thing to do was to stay in my room, which was comfortable and well lit, and equipped with the mosquito nets as a quiet reminder that I am living in Dengue Fever country. It may not kill you, but it will most likely require a hospital stay in Buenos Aires, about 800 kilometers to the south.
I made myself comfortable, grabbed something to read, and headed for the bathroom, my favorite place to meditate. As is my custom, I did the required test flush before perching, and as the tank emptied its contents into the bowl, I was astonished to see something very alive and black in color struggling to stabilize itself in the rushing water. My first impulse was to jump back, then lean forward and slam the lid down. What the hell . . . there was a creature in my toilet bowl! It was little, and had legs, like a really big spider, except its legs were different–of course–it had to be a frog. Now what to do about it?
My first thought was to go to the reception desk and tell them. I imagined the conversation, if I managed it at all with my Spanglish and animation, would go something like this:
Me: Uh, excuse me senorita, I’m not sure, but I think there’s a frog in my toilet bowl.
Reception: Uh-hunh. And how may I help you, senor Bechtel?
Then I thought, no, she won’t believe me at all. And what would I do if she accompanied me to my room to observe the alleged frog in my toilet and it wasn’t there? I mean, how did it get in there to begin with? Did it go in from the top, or come up from the bottom? I mean, when you flush the toilet, where does all that water go, anyway? And do frogs live down there? Come to think of it, how long had that frog been down there in my toilet bowl before I saw it? OMG, was it down there during one or more of my library perches? Some things don’t bear thinking about.
There was only one thing that could be done, one I felt well qualified to do. I needed documentation. This was a photo op if ever I had one. I decided a telephoto lens would be best, and I wasn’t sure where to aim the camera when I flipped up the lid, because who knows where the frog was hiding down there. So I put the camera strap around my neck, so I didn’t drop my camera into the toilet in all the excitement, positioned myself directly above the toilet, and flipped up the lid.
Nothing.
No frog.
It had to be hiding! I flushed! This was a quick-flush toilet with a huge rush of water and then it was gone. I couldn’t really tell if the frog had gone down in all that water, but I had snapped photos about three times. Here’s one of the photos:
I closed the lid to the toilet, just to be safe. I decided to defer any further decisions until the next morning. I was disappointed about the photo op. I should have used a different lens. The telephoto took too long to focus. I went to bed wondering where the frog was.
I woke up about 3 a.m. to deafening, crashing thunder. I could tell through the curtains on my door’s window that there was a regular lightning show going on outside. I decided to open the door and go outside to watch the show. I went to the edge of the roof cover, and as the sky obligingly lit up again, I noticed out of the corner of my eye that a black creature, about the size and appearance of a very large skunk came flying around the corner of the building just as the thunder clap hit us, and it rushed up to the door of my room, which was ever so slightly ajar, and to my horror, stuck its nose in the gap and nudged the door open and ran into my room! Such chutzpah! I hadn’t turned the light on in my room before stepping outside, so something big was inside my room in the dark. Yikes! And I was in my underwear and bare feet!
My heart throbbing, I stepped into the room. The light switch was behind the door, so I had to step around the now open door to reach the switch, and as I did so and turned on the light, this is what I saw beside my bed:
He had no intention of leaving. He didn’t look menacing, but then I didn’t want to be wrong about him and get bit either. So I took a small hand towel and smacked him on the rump with it, scolding him and telling him to leave. No response. I tried reasoning with him in a very stern voice. Still no response. I wrapped the towel around my hand and pushed him toward the door. He made a feeble attempt at biting me, but I could tell his heart wasn’t in it. He just wanted to be left alone. Inside my room. Which might have been okay, except he was very wet and smelled bad. Not ugly, just like–soaking wet dog. No, he had to go. I pushed his butt all the way to the door, and out he went, not happy at all at this turn of events. I closed and locked the door. I guess my storm-gazing was over for the evening.
I woke up with a start at a tremendous racket outside my bedroom door. The storm had apparently passed, because there was light coming through the window. It was about 7 a.m. But what was all the noise about? Then I heard this deep, throaty growl and I knew this wasn’t a dog. Not this time. I did not open the door. I looked out the window, through the screen. Yes, there was definitely something out there, and it was right on the other side of my door! I ran for my camera and then looked out my window again, and saw this:
Pleased with my photograph, I thought, hey, let’s check on my frog. I decided on my lens, positioned myself, and popped the lid of the toilet up, and was greeted by this:
Later I mentioned this little episode to someone in the village, and they said, oh yes, the frogs get into the toilets from the top, not the bottom, and all you do is take a tissue and pick them up and put them outside. Un-hunh. I see. You are sitting on the toilet, and you feel something down there. You reach in and carefully remove the intruding frog and remove him to safety outside, from where he will probably return to your toilet bowl. And if you’re not dressed at this propitious moment? Well, you put the frog down while you are putting on your clothes, with a firm command to Stay! No problemo!
What DID I do with my guest frog? I am ashamed to tell you the truth. I did nothing. I left him there on the toilet. I took my shower and got dressed, and packed my bags, checking them carefully as I did so, because it was my last day in that room. My frog might still be there, maybe getting a little bigger by now. I did see one a few days ago in the street, bigger than my fist.
And finally I leave you with beautiful thoughts as I stood photographing the sun setting over the wetlands, the kind of scene that makes you forget all the awkward moments of life. I was standing beside a low parapet, and as I clicked away with my camera, I heard screaming, and glancing toward the source of all the noise, saw a group of tourists staring at, well, my feet. Looking down, I caught the tail end of a snake that had slithered over my foot and was rapidly retreating into the underbrush. My camera was already in my hand, so here it is:
Eventually, of course the storms of life pass, and if you wait long enough, the sun returns and the sky clears. Then the world looks like this:
Thank you for reading. You are the reason I write. If you are not a subscriber, please do so by entering your name at the top right of this page (if you are on a computer), and if you are on a cell, the space for your email is probably all the way at the bottom. But if you want a really good look at the Tropical Racer snake, you might want to use your computer, and even use your zoom feature.
Coming in a post soon is an article about the adobe house builders of the Ibera Wetlands. They’re not what you’d be expecting. Be prepared for a few laughs.
John, I wonder why a sane American, past middle age would want to experience all of this !! And yes, I do know, because it is challenging and out of our comfort zone and you never know what will happened next or how you will cope with it. However, these communications are so funny, that I am left laughing at the various scenarios. Thank you for that. More seriously, your travel writing is much more interesting and unique than the usual travel segment we see on TV. Please can you connect with someone who will make these into segments for a travel program. You could do the script and narrate.
You really should be an agent. More specifically, MY agent. 🙂
Keep going John. Keep going. Your friend Earl
Oh my friend, you live such an adventure. I may re-think coming to visit. 🙂 –MaryGo
LIVING is an adventure. All living is an adventure. Black swans are everywhere. Yes, you should visit, but wait till I find a place with better food. I’ll take care of the Long Islands.
Ah, the trials and tribulations of travel. 🙂 Nice article. Sounds like a exciting time.
Thanks for reading and commenting, Chris. Glad to have you on board!!
John,
The caption under your first photo was a realy keeper. I felt like I was watching a movie when I read it. I think the frog wanted to eat the misquitoes and the snake was looking for the frog. The dog was just a lost soul. I envy your adventures but not the amount of effort required to experience them.
Keep up the good work. I wish you sunshine and many happy flushings.
Harlan
Dear John:
I’ve always wanted to say that.
As I sit in my luxury hotel room in Buffalo, NY, reading your story, I realize I am missing some things. No wet or dry dogs to keep me company in the night, no frogs in the toilet. No foxes to greet me in the morning. Hell, not even a tiny little spider. I have toilet seats and toilet covers. I have a wonderfully comfortable bed with 4 pillows and a warm comforter. I also have a coffee maker which makes my special coffee. I actually have to add the ingredients that make it special and I guess I have to add the coffee pod to make the coffee. I knew that, but completely forgot to add the coffee pod. So what I have is a very special hot water to drink while I read your story. So what am I really missing? I’m missing home and the 3 dogs, 2 guys, a whole bunch of spiders trying to make my residence their own for the winter, and maybe a mouse stealing the dog food and hiding it in an unused cupboard, the neighbor’s chicken roosting in our tree and pooping on our patio per a conversation with my son, hot weather in Minnesota. Be glad that the frog wasn’t a rat. We had that once years ago in our newly built house. After discouraging Paddy from shooting it, he simply closed the toilet cover and escorted the kids and I out of the bathroom and said he’s think about it over night. In the morning, it was dead from drowning. Toilet seat covers are good. Hope you always have toilet seats and covers wherever you go. I wonder if Canada has them?
Safe travels, my firend.
Karen Padilla
The wet dog was amazing. After the fox left, the dog came back to me and simply stood beside me, waiting for me to scratch his ears, which I did. Apparently there were no grudges or hard feelings. So we are reconciled. And once my son complained of hearing strange noises in his closet, and when we investigated, we found a mouse was hiding in his backpack with her babies. I dumped all of them in the toilet after a brief service. And about your neighbor’s chicken, I’ve always been glad cows don’t fly. Cheers, travel well, my friend!
great article! glad you, the dog, the frog and the fox are safe! I seriously thought the dog was a skunk until I read the photo caption! Ha!
Hi Danica, thank you for reading and checking in! You are definitely one of my globetrotting readers; are you back in Switzerland, or in the U.S.? I hope your business is flourishing!
Oh my god John! this sounds like those” fearless adventures in the wild” tv shows, hope you never make it to drink your own piss though D: now i recall all the jungle tales my family tell about when my uncle was living in Uruguay, iguanas and snakes coming through the window at any time, giant spiders and mosquitoes all over the place, the heat, the rain, the storms, sounds like a very interesting place to be, for a very short period of time hahahahahaha so nice you make me travel there by just reading your blog, i prefer my shinny and windy springtime days at home by now.
In my house they say you “stepped on a frog” when you fart… i see the connection now 🙂
all my best! <3 keep it safe 😀
Hi Enya, and thanks for reading and commenting. I am hearing good things about your career, and I enjoyed listening the new CD you just released. Awesome! Keep it up. When I make it to Santiago, I will attend one of your concerts and ask for an autographed copy! But I have to ask, how do you say you “stepped on a frog” in Spanish?