When trillian_stars said "let's get away from this and live in the forest with the mountain gorillas" my initial, and somewhat vociferous response was "THAT SOUNDS UNCOMFORTABLE" -- little did I know that she travels with dozens of porters, hairdressers, cooks, carpenters, and a sea of jesters. Our tents made up a small, luxurious city by the river and no comfort was spared. Plush carpets, velour hammocks, solar power, and even a 200 gallon salt water fish-tank tended by a guy named "Steve" who was continually checking the pH and brushing the anemones who seemed to recognize him as he got close and flagellate in grateful anticipation. Every day Trillian was in the forest, learning the poetry of the gorillas. They wouldn't tolerate my presence but carefully inscribed to her works of magic and remembrance in a quiet tongue, spinning tales and histories. She listened carefully and taught a curious emperor tamarin to knit socks.
Three weeks into our stay two of the large silverbacks had moved their families into the tent formerly occupied by the tea sommelier, a woman from Saint-Étienne named Océane. This was more than enough for the young woman who had previously worked exclusively in a tiny cafe run by the remnants of the Knights Templars in the head of the Sphynx. Océane resorted to a public outburst, demanding that the expedition return home. Trillian had her fed to an anaconda that afternoon saying "Order must be preserved," but then noting, sadly, that we were out of tea.