Birds of a Feather...are Creepy.

Hello to my few but loyal followers!
I don't know how it happened, but I just slept through a whole night. At the right time. This is a miracle. I am finally past jet-lag. Now, I am dreading my first week back in the States. I'll have to do this all over again!
The house is still quiet, with just about four of us still left behind. Today is Chris' birthday, but I'm not sure when he is coming back. He and Gerald called last night, said they won fifth place. Of course, I don't know how many people competed. That could mean fifth place out of five hundred or fifth place out of sixth. I'll let you know.
We had a brie on Friday night. It's a barbecue, a South African tradition. While we lounged around the fire pit outside, Rocky threw an array of meats on the grill. We ate with our fingers, and the food was so good that barely anyone spoke while at the table. Rocky and Maritjie invited some friends over for the event - some good, some bad. I spoke for a while with this one guy - Richard - who resembled an aging hippie who never quite got a hold on the aging part. He wore a small, crocheted rainbow cap which barely covered his mop of wiry gray hair. A matching gray moustache adorned his face, hiding most of his mouth and extending as far as his cheeks. We talked about the chaos of religion, about my wants, about his downfalls. I liked the way he explained things. He was careful, but not constrained. He closed his eyes while he was searching for the right words, then sent them from the confines of his mind, down through his mouth and past his bristling moustache. We had a languid conversation, let our words find their own meanings in the black of the night.
And one drunken soul disrupted. Arnie, walking unsteadily since arriving, was all over. His words, his howls, his fumbling arms - crashed into everything. He kept asking for my name, even after I had told him. Once, he stood on the badly-constructed table by the fire pit, then proceeded to come tumbling back down. Everyone scrambled to catch things that had been flung off the table - cups, mobiles, Arnie himself. But he only continued into the night, with his bumbling body following slightly behind.
When I woke up the next morning, Arnie had already gone. Whether it was on his own behalf or someone else's, I don't know. A few hours later, I found myself at...Monkey Land! It's just down the street from here, past Kurland. There's this enormous enclosure of forest, filled with about 300 rescued monkeys. Some were lab monkeys, some were pets that weren't supposed to be, and some were injured by hunters. I followed through the jungle's canopy, listening as the guide described which hooligans were swinging above our heads. Atlas, the only white woolly monkey, followed behind us the entire time. His echoing howls erupted all around us. We saw all sorts of monkeys - lithe lemurs with their striped tails swinging below them; tiny yellow ones, brave enough to zig-zag across the path; brown capuchins, bored at the very sight of us. There was pointing and picture-taking, and lots of "ooh-ing" and "ahh-ing."
Across the parking lot is Birds of Eden. It is the world's largest enclosed aviary. From the outside, it is just an enormous net, held in the sky by a few stretching metal towers. Once inside, I was met by a completely different sight. Green, surrounded by green, surrounded by more green. I followed the ups and downs of the wooden boardwalk, keeping my head towards the tops of trees. The sound of cooing, of cawing and chirping and every other sort of call came from all around. At the top of the sanctuary, I could spot great expanses of the net. Parrots adorned with rainbow colors opened their enormous wings and took flight. Small birds, big birds, white birds, black birds. Birds with iridescent blue feathers and still more with yellow-rimmed eyes.
There was one bird with a vendetta against me. We met towards the front, when I had to pass by him. He had these beady, pomegranate-red eyes. He flew behind me, watched me as I turned every corner. What a stool pigeon.
Then, my camera died. As I neared the end, I saw the most bizarre sight. A fading pink flamingo, surrounded by these cat-sized red birds. Red, like they were strung up by their feet and dipped in paint. I felt like Alice in Wonderland, or Dr. Seuss. And there I was, with no camera to take evidence. You guys will never see what I saw. I think I might be a bit crazier for it.
Today is Sunday. I go back to the creche tomorrow, maybe to teach another art class. I help wherever I am needed.
(olive juice.)