Bang! My eyes flew
open. It sounded like a rock thrown into my wall or falling on the roof. This was my first night in Tarapoto after a weekend of ceviche and tourist sites in Lima. I looked around the room: the sound seemed to have gone away. I
chalked it up to the Rio Shilcayo Hotel’s jungle atmosphere. Bang! again. This time at 2am. The next
was at 3am, and so on until the brightness of morning. I got out of bed feeling
as through I’d fought through a medieval siege. Only when I went outside did I find
the pomegranate tree stretching its branches directly over my bungalow. And in
the grass lay the big red fruits that had attacked my roof in the night. One
pomegranate was cracked open, exposing its jewel-like flesh. I wanted to eat
one as revenge but the car was waiting to take us to our new hotel. I solemnly vow
to eat a pomegranate before leaving. That goddamn fruit cost me an entire night’s
sleep. Did I somehow offend the Tarapoto tree gods with my blog?
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