• facts

    Orange juice is not called jugo de naranja, like you’d think, but rather jugo de China. Gouda cheese is queso de bola (ball cheese). Cheddar cheese is queso de papa (potato cheese). Potatoes are patatas

    ***

    Water is never ever cold enough. In the shower, from the tap, in the ocean — it’s all tepid.

    How I long for bone-chilling cold water, frigid enough to suck the heat from my body, the puffiness from my feet!

    ***

    I miss quart jars. We’re slowly accumulating leftover jars from salsa, pickles, and jelly, but they’re mostly small, and for many of them I can’t get rid of the overpowering smell of garlic-and-vinegar. And nothing ruins a delicious iced coffee faster than storing it in a pickle jar. (Well, except for soured half-and-half which is turning into a regular occurance, sigh.)

    ***

    My morning runs are agonizingly boring. I run loops around and through the neighborhood, but the concrete flatnesssince is soul-killingly dull. Without hills, I have to do sprints to actually get my heart pumping. And the heat, of course, is such an energy suck.

    I actually gave up running for a little there, but then I felt terrible because I wasn’t getting any cardio, so back to My Mornings of Misery I went, tail tucked between my legs.

    Silver lining: I’ve since learned that if I leave the house by 5:40 a.m. then I can at least finish before the sun comes up.

    ***

    Since we’ve arrived here, I’ve had a borderline sore throat. Am I reacting to something I’m eating? Am I over-tired? And then my husband suggested that maybe my throat irritation is due to the dust in the air?

    Also, for quite a while I struggled with a queasy stomach. I thought it was maybe due to the lettuce I was eating — all that romaine lettuce had just been recalled — but then the nausea disappeared. Either I’m no longer eating contaminated greens or I had a stomach bug.

    Whatevs.

    ***

    It’s super breezy during the day — our hallway feels like a wind tunnel — but it gets murderously still at night. Thank goodness for fans.

    ***

    Problem: maggots. As in, our outdoor trash was roiling with them. We’ve since learned to wash all raw meat packaging and to store meat scraps in the (already too-small) freezer. Also, keeping the trashcan in the sun, not the shade, helps.

    ***

    I located the recycling center! I found the post office! I am succeeding at life!

    ***

    We store our bread in the microwave. Best breadbox ever.

    ***

    My glasses get ridiculously greasy. It’s like they’re magnets for face oils, or maybe it’s just the heat — perhaps the humidity is half human sweat? Whatever the reason, I have to wash my glasses multiple times each day.

    ***

    Night driving is freaky. It’s hard enough in the day, what with all the missing signs, switched around roads (and the misinformed Mrs. Google insisting I drive on roads that don’t exist), non-working stoplights, and crateresque potholes, but at night it’s dark. And I don’t just mean absence-of-sun dark — I mean dark dark: streetlights are few and far between, and many lanes are unmarked.

    Like I said, freaky.

    ***

    Public libraries do not loan out books, sob.

    ***

    Apparently, no one in Puerto Rico eats tacos because I can’t find taco seasoning anywhere. Chili, too, or only a little bit of it because I’ve only found tiny containers of chili powder. Also, THERE ARE NO TWIZZLERS. (But then Chiro found some for us when he was out traveling, and even though he thinks they’re appallingly gross, he kindly bought a bag of them for us.)

    ***

    Sad news: ice cream runs about double what it costs in Virginia so we’re not eating ice cream.

    Except we are because I’m doing some ‘sperimenting, yay!

    This same time, years previous: simple lasagna, butter chicken, an evening together, in her element, a bunch of stuff, showtime!, down to the river to chill, barbequed pork ribs, fresh strawberry cream pie.

  • the quotidian (5.28.18)

    Quotidian: daily, usual or customary; 
    everyday; ordinary; commonplace



    Saturday morning breakfast, plus fruit smoothies.

    Sunday breakfast.

    Lunch delivery: one of my jobs.
    Not destined for our bellies, unfortunately.
    Snacking, with Time.

    Some serious cheese.

    The sun is hot: Object Lesson Number One.

    …. and Object Lesson Number Two.
    Here, the sunburn cure of choice: Iguana tail.
    (Okay, okay, so it’s just a monsterstalk of aloe vera…)

    Sunburn PTSD: he now dresses like it’s not a million degrees humid.

    We’re official!
    Inventory.

    In process: the volunteers’ trailer.
    Morning ritual.

    Charging.

    Aw, shucks. Doesn’t he look pathetic?
    Doesn’t it just make you wanna hop on a plane and come help this poor guy?

    This same time, years previous: the quotidian (5.29.17), in which we didn’t need the gun, the hard part, the quotidian (5.26.14), spicy cabbage, the quotidian (5.28.12), one dead mouse, the ways we play, rhubarb tea and rhubarb tart.

  • about that house (and some news!)

    Bit by bit, we are making the shift from settling into our new life here to actually beginning the work we came here to do: build a house.

    Though, to be honest, it’s actually nearly impossible to distinguish between “living life” and “work.” Everything we’re doing to “just” live — making purchases, hosting people, attending church, studying Spanish, navigating (or “nagivating,” as my younger son says) around the island, going to parties, emailing and texting, making conference calls, cooking, going on runs, talking with the postmaster — it’s all part of the process of becoming a member of the community, which, in turn, enables us to better do the work we came here to do in the first place which is, like I already said, to build a house.

    About that house! The homeowner, an elderly woman with three grown daughters (only the youngest is currently living at home), has been staying in her sister’s home since Maria.

    Hurricane Maria so badly damaged their home — only the cement block bathroom (shower, sink, toilet) was left relatively unharmed — that it had to be razed.

    Over the past couple weeks — one day here, a half day there — we (sometimes with some help from locals) have cleared the property for building, poured the footer for the electrical pole, and laid out the house.

    Last Friday, the trailer that the volunteers will stay in finally arrived.

    This week is dedicated to getting it ready: getting it level, scrubbing it down and setting up bunk beds and other (minimal) furnishings, installing the plumbing, cleaning (and painting?) the outdoor bathroom so the volunteers can use that, setting up a temporary canopy shelter for shade, etc.

    Then, finally, we’ll be ready for volunteers — except we won’t because we won’t have electricity for several weeks (the electrical company is terribly backlogged) and we can’t shove a team of sweaty-gross volunteers in a metal box without air conditioning. So that’s still in the works, but no worries — poco a poco we’re moving forward.

    So, now that you know a little more about what it is we’re actually doing, how would you like to come volunteer? Because here’s the thing: We really, really, really need volunteers.

    See, MDS’s busy volunteer season is January through April since that’s when carpenters and farmers — their volunteer base — are most available. Summertime, on the other hand, is their slow season with almost no active projects. That they are trying to establish multiple worksites in Puerto Rico during the leanest volunteer months, and in the hottest time of the year, is a bit of a challenge.

    So — good news! — now, in an effort to recruit more volunteers, MDS has decided to pay the cost of plane tickets for all volunteers to Puerto Rico from May 1 through August 25. In other words, you give the time, they cover the costs.

    As you lunge for your calendars, a few things to consider: Volunteer teams are limited to about five people per team, though you don’t have to have a team to sign up. Masonry and block-laying skills are coveted but not required. Males, females, and mature teens welcome. Volunteers can request a particular worksite on the island (Aibonito, Utuado, Ponce), but final placement depends on which site needs what type of volunteers and is ultimately left up to the Puerto Rican coordinators and project leaders.

    To register, go here. And if you know of people who might enjoy this sort of adventure, please, spread the word! Volunteers are the heart and soul of this whole operation.

    MDS needs you!

    This same time, years previous: a few fun things, the quotidian (5.23.16), more on trash, rosa de jamaica tea, rhubarb streusel muffins, strawberry shortcake with milk on top, ranch dressing.