We are not alone. Really.

Before supper on Friday, my aunt and I had begun to suspect that others were now being housed in our far-from-the-madding-crowd barrack. There was a voice, then two. A sandal appeared out on the walkway. By the time we returned from prayers, guided by flashlights, the proof was unavoidable. There were now families— the kinds with little kids— sleeping on either side of us, separated only by a scrim of wall. Several of the children clearly had the croup. Or the plague. My aunt and I froze, realizing that we’d been blessed to have the relative solitude we’d enjoyed so far, knowing that these final 48 hours were going to be a very different experience.

Did I tell you that she found her passport pouch? (Valuables Redux, Money Changes Everything) She did. But not before I’d gone back down to the main office and rattled a few young brothers-to-be with my sense of urgency. I’m sure it’ll turn up. I’m sure everything will be fine. There is nothing more annoying than a peaceful, reassuring person when all you want is results. The valuables slip I discovered late that nite in some nether region of my luggage, and waving in victoriously, declared. “I can’t go back there. I just can’t face that young woman again….” From there a shared litany of frustrations brimmed up through paroxysms of gulping laughter. “I can’t deal with any more German people telling me what to do…… I need whole grains……. I need a toilet at nite……I want to sing in English…… I want all these new people to go away!!”

One of the children on the other side of the wall began to cough up a lung. We could hear the parents trying to ssssssshhhhh and comfort him. Realized in that moment that as we were complaining about the burden of our new neighbors we were the ones who were gabbing noisily, and with apparent disregard for others’ sleep. We cupped our hands to our mouths, tried to stop the giggles. I grabbed a cup and stepped outside to pee, opened the door to see my new neighbor— a large, hairy man in skivvies— attempting the same thing. I nodded, ducked back inside. Began to laugh all over again.

It took nearly an hour for us to settled down. As I lay in my sleeping bag on the bottom bunk, I could hear through the wall — as close as if it were a whisper into my own ear— the voice of the man speaking sweet nothings to his wife, her murmured responses, back and forth, until goosebumps rose up on my arm.