The Ultimate Selfie
A finger pokes into my side below my rib cage and I jolt aside, shocked. I turn around and I can't decide what the expression on the tourist's face is trying to tell me. She suddenly waves her hand indicating that she expects me to move out the way to give her the space I queued ten minutes to have. There isn't space but she rudely pokes me again and I step back, resigned. It isn't worth fighting over.
As I step backwards, another tourist charges forward and a 3 metre long bright red selfie stick is thrust into my line of vision and an extremely tanned man with a huge beard, clearly a fellow backpacker, jumps onto the railing and leans forward to take the ultimate selfie. (It's funny later I see the profile on Grindr - am I really becoming this cynical?) I catch a mere glimpse of the spectacular waterfalls that I saw back in two thousand seven and decide to retreat.
It wasn't like this in 2007.
But it isn't over yet.
As I back up another selfie stick waves dangerously close to my face.
<<¿Salgo bien?>> "Is the photo okay. Do I look alright?" Cries a lady, arms spread across the metal fence, clearly a challenge worth climbing over all for the ultimate selfie, that keeps us from falling to our deaths into the abyss below.
I step backwards, apologising to nobody but only myself for photobombing.
Another tourist charges forward, pushing through the crowds, selfie stick in hand. And then a bus excursion has arrived and the tourist guide seems to part the crowd like the sea in a scene from the bible.
Thank goodness they banned drones.
A thousand mobile screens float around me like lighters did in concerts in the 90s and I decide to focus on something everyone else seems to have filtered out.
A plastic beaker labelled with the text "jungle" hangs over the precipitous edge of the Devil's Throat. Rubbish discarded, dropped dangles over the edge of the waterfall.
And as I write this in my hostel at night, 3km from the waterfalls, the water continues to thunder over the edge.
One thought remains: does that plastic beaker remain too?
As I step backwards, another tourist charges forward and a 3 metre long bright red selfie stick is thrust into my line of vision and an extremely tanned man with a huge beard, clearly a fellow backpacker, jumps onto the railing and leans forward to take the ultimate selfie. (It's funny later I see the profile on Grindr - am I really becoming this cynical?) I catch a mere glimpse of the spectacular waterfalls that I saw back in two thousand seven and decide to retreat.
It wasn't like this in 2007.
But it isn't over yet.
As I back up another selfie stick waves dangerously close to my face.
<<¿Salgo bien?>> "Is the photo okay. Do I look alright?" Cries a lady, arms spread across the metal fence, clearly a challenge worth climbing over all for the ultimate selfie, that keeps us from falling to our deaths into the abyss below.
I step backwards, apologising to nobody but only myself for photobombing.
Another tourist charges forward, pushing through the crowds, selfie stick in hand. And then a bus excursion has arrived and the tourist guide seems to part the crowd like the sea in a scene from the bible.
Thank goodness they banned drones.
A thousand mobile screens float around me like lighters did in concerts in the 90s and I decide to focus on something everyone else seems to have filtered out.
A plastic beaker labelled with the text "jungle" hangs over the precipitous edge of the Devil's Throat. Rubbish discarded, dropped dangles over the edge of the waterfall.
And as I write this in my hostel at night, 3km from the waterfalls, the water continues to thunder over the edge.
One thought remains: does that plastic beaker remain too?
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