Rice, beans and sunsets...

The days on the boat were long.  At first it didn't dock at all, it just kept on ploughing upstream.  The incessant noise of the engine became such a part of life that, when it stopped to allow the passage of a smaller boat, the void it left was tangible.  The same scenery rolled past as before; endless trees, huge clouds, indistinct villages.  The heat was intense, already hot by nine, it built throughout the day making physical action extremely uncomfortable.  There was no escape from the other passengers, the only token privacy to be found was in the hammocks.

Visits to the toilet had to be kept brief, the air in the cubicles was acrid and burnt the throat.  A shower became a life-and-death ordeal as the sun turned the small metal rooms into furnaces.  In hard times such as these food can usually lift the spirits but here we were back in a floating comedor once more.  Rice, beans and spaghetti - always.  Three staples cooked in river water supplemented by meat of some kind:  fish (the Good), beef (the Bad) and the substance purporting to be mince but clearly gristle painted brown (the Ugly).  Add to this the newly acquired habit the captain had developed of very, very long pauses in docks during the hottest part of the day.  Endless amounts of sugar, pop, and crisps were lifted off the craft at an excruciatingly slow pace.  It seemed there were going to be a flood of kids' birthday parties that weekend.

Only half way through the journey and it was obvious the trip wasn't everyone's idea of fun.  Tempers were beginning to fray, spirits were sinking and the temperature was rising.  The sunsets were to die for but we needed somthing more - what we needed was a hero.