It's that time again! The Rupununi Rodeo. What felt like hundreds of PCVs converged on Region Nine (it was actually more like a dozen, but we're usually so isolated it felt like a crowd). We all crashed at Gabrielle's, and she even outfitted almost every single girl in one of her outfits, like we were life-sized barbie dolls, and we headed out to go have some drinks, let our hair down (metaphorically. It's way too hot to actually let your hair down), and dance like the world was ending. Which we did. And it did.
While we were out being wild and crazy, someone broke into Gabrielle's house and robbed it. Computers, cameras, cash, ... and underwear and a hat, strangely enough. Gabrielle's room was trashed, and the front room where everyone had thrown their bags looked like a hurricane had gone through it. Not gonna lie, it was a rough night.
Let's skip all that, though.
Some who had come up for the rodeo decided Region Nine wasn't that nice, after all, and decided to just go home, which is a pity.
A few intrepid souls (and of course the Region Niners, who aren't phased by much anymore apparently) stuck it out and went to salvage the rest of the weekend. Bucking broncos, bull riding, and all the usual crowd pleasers ended with just a few gorings and one or two stompings. Not as tragic as last year, which was a definite plus for me. Some of the PCVs participated in tug-of-war, watermelon eating constests, and "beer running" and I wish I had photos of it, but I have no idea why I don't for some reason. Maybe I was too distracted by laughing.
Also, I bought a cowboy hat. Now all I need is a horse...
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| Maybe not this one... |
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| Tear your eyes away from whatever he's doing with that rope, and notice that he's barefoot |
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| Bulls do not like being roped. He's trying to decide which person to stomp the crap out of |
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