Thoughts in green

I lose myself in the green. The bus brought us here, somewhere between mountains and rice fields, and suddenly the world is quieter, softer. We step out into the heat, take a risk and order the coconut coffee with ice cubes. It is still half full when sweat sticks to our backs. The air is thick, sometimes too heavy and full of life. A village. A loom. A smile - is it for us tourists or is it real?
Green.
I start pedaling, the road is dusty, only glistening in some places still damp from the last shower, and then the rain comes. Heavily, warm, like a hug that I often miss here. We are so uncertain of the way that we get wet - and that's good. We take a selfie, even though I don't really need to capture the moment because it stays inside me. And yet, right in the middle - in the rain, in the green, in the laughter of others and my own - sometimes this quiet sadness embraces me, rising like the mist after the rain shower. I can't quite grasp it because it doesn't want anything concrete, just to be there.
Green.
The rainbow overshadows the valley and colors in me the colorless spots. I think that some encounters are as beautiful as a rainbow: Light and simply there like the light, occasionally refracting as you cross a boundary, and then disappearing again. The world is dipped in droplets of water, I take a few steps, first together, then alone. Jumping over puddles, I'm light enough for that. The dogs look at me with the same astonishment as I look at the surroundings.
Green.
In the evenings we sit together, our heads tired, the words light, plans for tomorrow's hike. I feel a bit like I'm in the fifth grade when the excitement before the hiking day leads to somewhat curious questions and almost prevents some from sleeping. This makes me laugh and, when I say it out loud, the others laugh too; luckily, the 'student' with the most questions is not offended. I help stretch mosquito nets.
Green.
At night, the power goes out, the temperature stays stubbornly high. I'm just as out of order as the electricity, sleeping and not noticing anything, not even when the earth shakes briefly. I wake up, and the world is still there. We walk, further and further, heat, steps on the path, a bit through the underbrush, still heat, a river soaks my T-shirt, my hair cool and free in the water.
Green.
After the break, a mountain, an incline, even more sweat on my forehead if that's possible. I feel as sensitive as the mimosa at the roadside. Then arrival. A shower, a swimming pool, a massage, the feeling of shedding everything.
Green. Green. Green.