Of notoriety on par with that of Jesse James, “the farmhouse” in Ubaúna is the base of operations for mission trips into this region. Often made out to be worse than it really is, the farmhouse is primarily used for sleeping, or at least what passes for that.
Wildlife abounds; frogs in an amazing variety of sizes, tarantulas, snakes, rats, goats, lambs, cows, hawks, buzzards, lizards and so on. Some are so friendly that they want to sleep with you or accompany you to the bathroom. Others just like being where you are.
Accommodations are not quite of the five-star classification, the air conditioning isn’t quite up to par and the traffic can be a wee bit noisy at times.
I hear more screams, both male and femail, in the course of a week than I hear over an entire year while residing in the farmhouse. Typically because something as silly as a frog has jumped on someone or a little spider was found in someone’s hammock, but sometimes for “other” reasons.
Affectionately christened as “the clubhouse” on this last visit, the place actually becomes an object of affection. Folks who’ve stayed there look at it with longing and recognize it for the purpose it serves; they know that they’ve encountered what might be called a portal between the natural and the supernatural while they’ve been there.
Most do not leave it without being transformed.
The farmhouse is definitely an interesting place…