After holding forth for quite some time, Arthur shocked Noah by saying they ought to turn in. “We have plenty of culture to live, I reckon”, he declared. It would be a relief to de-focus from the aura of weird that was Arthur. As Noah dozed off he toyed with naming the phases he’d seen Arthur seamlessly cycle through: scared watcher on the plane; eager boss-follower at Lars’s house; fretting paranoid at the dinner; chatting academic after supper. What fueled all this? Not just the stress of the trip on its own, or the whole resort would feel like an American mental ward.
The next day, the resort became an American mental ward. A general scurry seemed to be in progress. The hippy-looking couple, who were just next door to Noah and Arthur, were complaining to the house staff about the rats they had heard in the night. Noah walked by just in time to hear the chambermaid swear there were no rats in Kaokara—laughable since he had heard them himself, but never thought to complain about it. Of course there were rats here.
Before he reached breakfast Noah was accosted by Carlton, the eldest of the trainees, who was making a list of names of people who didn’t get hot water at their morning showers. On behalf of the more delicate palates in the group, Suzette was conferring with an impatient cooking staff on the subject of breakfast options. Pete and Carol were discussing what sounded to Noah like lost luggage. Dennis exited the public loo swearing about the toilet paper. Noah looked around at the faces of his companions at breakfast. The only eyes that weren’t wild with some sort of panicky discomfort were those of the two former missionaries, Amy and Michael. Whatever calm-juice they are drinking, Noah thought, laughing inwardly, I’d like to get about five gallons of it. As Noah joined the couple, Mike recommended the sausage, then quietly intoned—smirking—that there were some misplaced expectations regarding the hot water.
