The loose collection of huts appeared as a wasteland of brush, sand, and sadness, elbowed in the guts by the knobby and arthritic tendrils of the jungle. Kenzi and Lauren huddled together inches apart on the floor of the bungalow their first night, nearly fusing their two sleeping bags into a single cocoon, clinging to each other as the unfamiliar sounds of the jungle crescendoed in the darkness: the electric buzzing of lizards, the wind in the branches and the most unnerving, the trembling of the ground beneath them as if it was being crushed under the heavy footsteps of a giant. At some point they each had to pee but were too terrified to move in the pitch black.

”I’m not dropping my panties out there,” Kenzi lowered her voice covertly, ”and you’re not going anywhere either, sister. If anything goes bump in the night it better be you. You got me?”

”I got you,” Lauren nodded, wondering why Kenzi felt the need to whisper and hoping that the fear chilling inside her heart hadn’t been obvious in her voice.

Things weren’t so ominous a month later. To their surprise, Lauren, Kenzi, and Tek, with the help of handymen from the neighboring villages, unearthed a small treasure. Walls rose. The more decrepit of the bungalows were torn down; rusty generators and the carcasses of old appliances, hauled away. A fresh coat of paint and strings of white lights on its veranda, and the main building appeared less like a haunted hut and more like the clinic it was meant to be. They even managed a makeshift pub within the dining area, a bar top really, just wide enough to accommodate two stools. Kenzi hung a hand painted sign above it, The Dal of the Far East, an inside joke that only the two of them understood. Lauren and Kenzi’s little palapa built for two also got an upgrade: a wraparound balcony where, as the constant hammering and sawing of the day died down, they could sit and watch the sunset.

They lived simply and luxuriated in the plainness of everything.

In their early explorations, Lauren discovered an Eden of flowers that reached out for her everywhere regardless of how deep into the jungle she plunged. Frangipani, orchids, lotus blossoms—arcing, aching buds perfumed her walkabouts with happiness and stirred Kenzi’s imagination with pulsing and incredible shades of violet, pink, white, and yellow. There were other surprises, as well, and Lauren and Kenzi discovered two: a small, fossilized yellow school bus on cement blocks and a forgotten juke box stocked with 45’s. They happened upon them in one of the nearby shantytowns; two relics from days gone by kicked to the curb.