The Adventures of Jill and Lisa Part Eight

Playing with Vultures by Jill

Being the good friend that she is, Jill felt it only right to share her black market drugs with Lisa, in lieu of attending the true-to-form Spanish fiesta combined with a real American dance-off. Truth be told, Lisa was still sniffling and could have really used a good night’s sleep too, since the combination of Jill’s wheezing, sneezing, and snoring forced her to count the spiders on the ceiling at night.

After a half-hearted attempt at doing laundry, our girls cracked the seal on the bottle.

"How many should we take?”

“I don’t know. Do you think it’s like American cold medicine?”

“I don’t know. What’s the equivalent of this in American anyway?”

“I dunno.”

So we each took one.

And then the giggles hit. And suddenly, it was like we had taken some sort of European form of truth serum.

“So-and-so* (*I’m pretty sure we weren’t even referencing a real person here, but rather an imaginary one that was very real to us at the moment) is a bitch.”

“Yeah, you said it.”

“My tongue feels weird.”

“My toenails are sparkly.”

“Let’s slide across the floor in our socks.”

“OK!”

And so went the conversation for the next few hours. Bloody stuff didn’t even make us sleepy.

Fast forward to the next morning at Valdelavilla (Englishtown), which dawned cool and rainy. Suffice it to say that our co-horts, both Anglos and Spaniards were looking like they’d been rode hard and put away wet (OK, not an original, but I absolutely love that expression!) after the previous evening’s/early morning’s activities. Lisa and Jill on the other hand had definitely done the right thing the night before and were feeling much better.

The experts at Englishtown have a well-devised, follow-up plan for the morning after the fiesta. A hike! Yes, a hike over the mountains and through the woods to a small town that looks much like Valdelavilla looked before its complete and total restoration. The hike follows a pre-historic road of sorts to arrive at the village, and the walking wasn’t too terribly taxing. After some exploring and minor accidental excavation, we were ready to head back. The damp, cool air was actually working wonders for our heroines and they were starting to really feel like themselves again. There were options for the hike back, either to go the way they had come, find a ride (the equivalent of hitchhiking in the Sahara) or climb a mountain and shave about 15 minutes off the total hiking time.

“Ohhhh, I wanna climb the mountain!” (Note: I really think this was a lingering after-effect of the codeine talking here)

“Ohhhh, me too!”

Did I mention that the mountains surrounding Valdelavilla are swarming with government-fed vultures?

So, with their spirits and bodies on the mend, although with conspicuously absent mental faculties, our heroines took to the hills, thinning air and all, to cavort with the vultures and balance on slippery, rocky ledges that looked down onto treacherous gullies hundreds and hundreds of feet below.

Did they survive the trek? What happens next? Stay tuned for more tales from Valdelavilla...