So we wonder over to the rehab centre and the viewing platform, which is only open for a shot period twice a day and where you do get to see the amazing antics of those Orangutans making their way back to nature. While we were there, one of the guides quietly told us we could do a jungle walk. All it required was a permit, which I could acquire free from the ticket booth. Being a long time sufferer of FOMO (Fear Of Missing Out) I virtually sprinted back to grab permits for us all. It did feel quite special, as it seemed not everyone had been given the word.
Permits gained, we headed into the jungle. Man, it’s claustrophobic. We head in and there’s lot to see. Its hot and steamy and everything you’d imagine a jungle to be. At one stage as we’re stopped to observe a lizard, there is a big ‘flop’ of something big dropping out a tree right next to us.
‘Come on kids!’ I urge, ‘we won’t be investigating whatever that was!’ We hastily move down the track.
'Mummy, can I have a drink a drink of water, please?’ asks the four year old I’m dragging over fallen trees and up steep muddy inclines.
‘No sweetie, we haven’t got any. Not far now.’
As we approach the end point, we start to see fellow trekkers coming back the other way. There's one track and we're all doing exactly the same hike. They’re wearing gaiters over their hiking boots against the leeches, long cargo pants, bucket hats, day-packs with plenty of water. Wow!
Here’s the small fry's jungle gear…a Zimmermann singlet, a Gap mini and a pair of baby Havaianas.
You can’t see me, but I’m in just the right outfit for the occasion– an Ed Hardy skirt, a Paul Smith singlet, a pair of Havaianas (I do love a brand!), I’m carry a large silver tote over my shoulder and I have sunglasses on my head!
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