One of the absolute best things about traveling is (are?) the people you meet. Friendships birth and bloom in the course of a day or two, and you never know when you’ll have the typical conversations (Where you from? How long you been here? Where you headed next?) or when you’ll hear about ski resort back country antics, full moon parties in Thailand, or philosophies on the upcoming end of the world.

That being said, there are times when it’s damn fine to be alone. That walk through the jungle yesterday is a prime example. I found myself high on the sounds of the jungle and my sandaled footsteps, the bruising green and panting breath.

But I wasn’t alone the whole day, I did walk with an elderly German lady for the first part, and then there was Ernie. Oh Ernie. He means well, despite his rather unfriendly disposition. I wouldn’t say he’s an asshole, he just…doesn’t know how to be friendly very well. How to describe him…ornery? Cranky? Maybe cranky…

He’s also not the sharpest tool in the shed, nor the most graceful. We met on a section of path with steps, and I was amazed at the clumsiness. I know they are irregular lengths and heights, but come on man, figure it out.

I enjoyed our time together, but before long it was time to move on. Alone Ernie. Thanks anyway.

Ernie, look out for the…


Bye Ernie.