Granada – Day 2: The Treehouse Jungle Rave
GRANADA
Day 2: The Treehouse Jungle Rave
January 06, 2023
Amelia and I spent the entire morning strolling about the city, stumbling upon more streets and getting lost all around. We decided to take it a bit easy as we had something special in store for us that night.
In fact, this was something we had planned while we were still in Utila. One of the main highlights of Granada, especially for backpackers, is a party that’s held every Friday at a secluded place in the middle of the jungle called The Treehouse. We were meant to spend our New Year’s Eve there, but having decided to spend the holiday with our family at Underwater Vision, we decided to reschedule.
Whilst I usually don’t like to party when I’m abroad, I had found myself the best of travelling companions – one I had partied with all the time whilst in Utila. But it wasn’t just that. Amelia and I clicked on every level when it came to travelling. Whilst I was on a whole different level of crazy when it came to planning, she would not only put up with it but also pitch in to make our plans even better. To top it off, we were into the exact same stuff and got bored of the exact same things. It was the perfect combination. And going to a party with her didn’t even feel like a compromise. In fact, after New Year’s Eve, I was genuinely excited for yet another rave – especially one in the middle of the jungle.
At around 4 PM, the shuttle arrived for us. Most of the hostel’s guests, along with us, were herded into the street where a large truck was waiting. Much like our ride to Cerro Negro, we had to get on the open-air backside of the truck, only this time there were some fifty people all standing up and huddled together like pigs on their way to the slaughterhouse. Every bump threatened to drop someone off, with the stench of sweat and booze permeating the little air that reached us. To top it off, the guy in front of me seemed to enjoy using me as his support, constantly leaning back onto my chest and drenching me in his sweat.
After twenty minutes of this, the relief of getting off felt like one of the best feelings ever. What awaited us then was a twenty-minute hike up to the Treehouse, which, for some, was already too much to handle – being drunk, high or both before the party had even started.
Throwbacks and Sunsets
As soon as we got there, we grabbed a couple of drinks. We bumped into Jorge – this German guy with the edgiest black punk-style, all covered in rad tats – whom we had met at Underwater Vision back in Utila. This, of course, sparked back our FOMO and made us wish we were still there. I didn’t think we’d ever get over Utila. Seriously!
After reminiscing about some of our favourite Utilan highlights, we grabbed another drink and made our way to the hanging bridge in front of the bar, where we could enjoy yet another spectacular sunset – this time an orange glow over the jungle beneath us. To add to the barrage of throwbacks, it reminded me of the sunsets we had enjoyed at El Mirador on top of the pyramids. I love how every new memory links back to another from this trip, and with so many, I doubt I’ll ever forget any of them.
The Hunt for the Wizard
As the sun set, the party livened up. The music shifted from chill, relaxing beats to techno-house, and the crowd grew rowdier with the dark. Amelia, Jorge and I hung out most of the night. Jorge had already been there twice before, returning to Granada every weekend just for this party. He told us that at some point, a man called “The Wizard” would show up – a local guy with dreadlocks and a trench coat full of drugs.
After New Year’s Eve, I can’t say I wasn’t intrigued. And apparently neither could anyone else – I swear, I must’ve been stopped by at least fifteen people asking me where the friggin’ Wizard was. Perhaps he was there in another guise or perhaps he decided to pull a no-show. All I knew was that I really wasn’t the person to ask. When he did in fact show up, everyone seemed to come to me to tell me he was there. At this point I wasn’t sure if I gave off strong junkie vibes or if everyone was just going bonkers.
In wanting to join in on the fun, we decided to pursue The Wizard too. We found him downstairs by the entrance – a blonde, short-haired Canadian in a colourful poncho. Basically the opposite of what Jorge had described. Turns out, both times Jorge had met him, he had been high as hell.
We started the night with some ‘good vibes vitamins’. Given what happened last time, I once again played Amelia’s “Daddy” role, only letting her take half at first since I didn’t know how she’d react. As always, it hit her faster, and as soon as her crazy eyes set in, I had my “I told you so!” moment. For me it took longer, but when it did kick in – holy hell. Only, it wasn’t quite as good as the one we had at Bando Beach. That’s when Amelia and I had a bittersweet revelation: it would only ever be second best from then on.
As disappointing as that was, I also had another revelation: I love rave candy. I don’t know why I held back for so long. I mean, yeah, they’re illegal, they’ve got side-effects, and I’ve got an addictive personality. It was at this point that it clicked – without realising, I was already hooked. I could see my future right in front of my very eyes. I’d go on to use the stuff occasionally until one day I’d realise I can’t quite live without them (much like what had happened with cigarettes), then it’s me being unable to function properly, being discovered, and having my pretty medical license taken away from me. That’s when I’d go on to steal money from my own mother to fuel my addiction until one day, I’d find myself living underneath a bridge until the day I die.
It was so, so clear. I swore I wouldn’t do more – not until after I’d part ways with Amelia and travel solo again. I’d enjoy life without inhibitions until then, but afterwards, that’d be it. I’d retire my newly acquired nickname of Vacuum Cleaner once all this was over.
Music, Madness and Rejection
Once again, I could feel the music in a way I never could sober. This time, though, I wasn’t turned on, meaning I could enjoy everything without distraction. I still made out with a few people, but that’s just me.
Amelia was off in her own world. Michael, a German guy trying to get with her all night, didn’t stand a chance. When I asked if she’d go for it, she just blurted: “I can barely have a conversation, what do you want from me?!” I hadn’t laughed that hard in ages. It was so pure, so genuine. I just couldn’t even – as the Gen Zs would put it.
While everyone else was busy flirting, I indulged myself. First a Dutch girl, then a local guy and his friend I’d matched with on Bumble (who had just rejected me for being bi), and then… Then came Ella – a Swiss girl I’d had a crush on back at Underwater Vision. We hit it off, and as things heated up, I went in for a kiss – at which point she flat out rejected me.
I hadn’t been rejected since 2017, and in my tipsy, overconfident state I blurted out to Amelia, ‘I’m not the one who gets rejected, I’m the one who rejects!’. Her now-focused eyes cut right through me with the meanest WTF look, and in that instant my confidence crashed. Maybe I was too forward, too obnoxious, too ugly, too scruffy — or maybe she just liked someone else more. That, I could live with. Still, I was shaken by how entitled I’d unknowingly become.
More Encounters
It was still all good fun. My high wore off when James, a British guy, showed up. He had been constantly pestering me on Tinder, asking me out and flirting shamelessly and relentlessly. Now, he trapped Amelia and I in a conversation both of us wanted out of.
He had gone to clown school (didn’t even know that was a thing) and now works as a theatre director. He’s this classic camp guy, punctuating his sentences with “Yasss!” instead of full-stops, always making sure he tells us all about his life and his opinions – something neither of us cared about. In fact, throughout his soliloquy, all we could think of was that he was wasting our precious high. With the next shuttle arriving in a couple of hours, I had to escape him and distract myself in some other way, leaving poor Amelia to her own devices.
I wandered around and stumbled on The Wizard again. I sat next to him and started to put my journalistic instincts to test. He told me he used to be a millionaire entrepreneur before gambling everything away. Now he spent his time in Nicaragua volunteering – building homes and schools with the money he earned from dealing. When I asked him whether he feels bad about that, he admitted that he doesn’t. And, the answer was simple. He doesn’t ruin lives. He comes to The Treehouse every Friday where different people await him every time – people who are there just this one time, people who just wanna have fun, people who can afford to splurge. And, to this, he added that his stuff is always high quality. That’s why he’s been frequenting this hotspot for the past four years. Otherwise, he wouldn’t even dream of doing anything of the sort. I have to confess I never thought I’d be in a position where I’d empathise with a drug dealer. I guess I did change after all.
I took a second round which did the trick. More partying, more dancing, more life. As always, Amelia and I ended up hugging and showering each other with gratitude – our fateful encounter having changed the both of us for the better. Man I love that Dirty Little Elf…
At around 2:30AM we started hiking down to the entrance where the shuttle would pick us up. I was still flying high, surrounded by people who, by then, were like zombies – dead and soulless. I put on my earphones and continued the party in my head. When Paramore’s Last Hope – my favourite song ever – came on, I felt infinite. I cannot describe it in any other way. I just felt infinite. I felt the song in a way I had never before. I got goosebumps (as I always do when I listen to it, to be fair) and felt my emotions welling up within me. It was pure, absolute ecstasy.