Bad Day Turned Good

Before I officially get all serious on you,  here is a fun picture. I like to call it, "Me and a sea slug in the blinding sun." 

You're welcome.

   Two days ago started off in the exact way a bad, or just plain "off" day would begin. There I was, standing alone in the room. Suddenly a tall and handsome man approaches me. He somehow can sense that I am sad. He says nothing, but only reaches out his big, comforting arms to hug me. I am instantly calmed and reach out to him. As I start to lay my head on his shoulder, FWHACK! I bash my head on the concrete wall my bed rests against. OW. I move my bed further from the wall and feel the desperate need for coffee and perhaps more gentle hugging skills...

   There is a torrential downpour going on outside as I decide to make my way to a nice indoor activity. As I've explained, the roads here generously throw out random gifts of potholes. Also, I have decided my windshield wipers are on island time. Even on full speed, they........take.....their.....time.........as..... they ....swisssh .....bacccck ....and .....forth. (Not so helpful in insta-monsoons) I'm riding along as the car next to me discovers either a gift the road left for him or a new river on the interstate. SPLASH! I am pounded with a wall of water. I am blind. I remember the semi next to me. PANIC. Island time windshield wipers...............decide to wave. I can see again and all is well. Somehow I make it to the museum alive. And the sun is now beaming. 

   Museo De Art De Puerto Rico did not disappoint. I entered at the children's activity floor(naturally) and was instantly enamored. You could write on the walls. There were tables with various artist tools to draw pictures, displays of different types of wood mediums used for projects and how to differentiate them!!,(flashback to grade school when my Mom and Pop helped me with an amazing map of the United States composed of all different types of wood;native to each state of course;with descriptions and characteristics in a binder)and an area where you could draw yourself.

There I am at the bottom :) 

   There were several pieces that gave me chills and at least two that admittedly got my tear ducts tingled. I absolutely adore seeing different interpretations of a certain art period based on culture differences. It's really amazing. PR changed drastically after the United States took over. Many pieces were dedicated to remembering the island's way of life before this happened. 

   One extremely touching piece was two figures facing each other but looking in to the distance with blank stares and gazes. There were red balls between them representing lost loved ones. The blank stares showed they were still heartbroken and unable to move on from their losses. One of the figures was barely holding on to a red ball with that empty stare. The piece perfectly captured heartbreak over the loss of someone too intertwined in your heart strings to cut them loose without damage. As I stood in the middle of the room staring, I realized tears were welling up in my eyes.  

   My favorite painting was a perfect capture of El Yunque as cloudy fog is passing over the top. It displayed the rainforest's lush greenery in a splendid sea of vivid verdes. I could actually picture myself standing right in the middle, amazed by the beauty of that mountain. I really wish they would let you take pictures in there. 

   You know what I -can- have pictures of?? Me holding another random critter. 

Biggest frog I've ever seen in my entire life!! 

   Outside the museum was a great sculpture garden...where I proceeded to locate a mango tree that had littered the ground beneath it with perfect little fruit. I made two armful trips back and forth to my car. I was not ashamed. 

This is a tiny concrete armchair in the garden. There were several. I sat in one just to do it. 

   And then I headed home. I was supposed to be helping Omar and Rheanna move. I got lost. It started pouring rain again. I rear ended someone. That's right. I glanced down to try and see if I just missed my turn again. Everyone in front of me slammed on their brakes and BAM! In the pouring rain, the man whose car I hit, steps out, looks at his car, looks at me, smiles, waves me off, and gets back in the car. I clumsily attempt to gather up my entrails as I shift back into gear and get out of the way of the honking cars. I somehow make it back home; in time to help nonetheless. 

   So there was my day. I failed to mention losing Rhe's cutting board into kitchen oblivion. It fell behind an attached cabinet never to be seen again. Nice.

   But here's why it wasn't as bad as my mind thought it should be. My car is fine(guess there are benefits to driving a little log wagon). I still am enthralled with the kindness of most here. The museum was soul soothing. And I didn't get all that upset over anything. As Rheanna mentioned, "Maybe the island is starting to rub off on me." 

Mosquitos Can't Bring Me Down!

   Just because this is on my mind right now as I dig a nail in the middle of the bites I have acquired this evening in the hopes that this crazy remedy will alleviate the itching. I give it a 90% cure rate. It thrills me beyond belief that my magical anti-bug concoction works against these evil mosquitos. But any inch of my flesh that isn't coated is open for business. Tonight, they decided to nibble my hand, very upper half of my back, upper thigh, and neck. (Insert grumpy angered face here) I hate the little blood sucking varmints! That is all.

   Things I adore about Puerto Rico in no particular order. And I'm sure to add to this list later: 1)The Coquis. Their song makes me not so sad about not hearing the "reearrw" bugs back home. (For those of you pondering what bug that is;it's a cicada) However, I could swear they are saying "Cupcake! Cupcake!" And yes, this does indeed make me long for the taste of a cupcake. Dang frogs. 2)The driving. It's rare to see a blinker. U-turns are perfectly acceptable. No one does the speed limit. People dart in and out of traffic and don't want you to do the same. But if you do, they won't honk at you. No road is immune to potholes that, no doubt your entire car could fall into. When you need to cross four lanes, just pull on out. They'll stop for you. If a light is too long and there is no traffic, just run it. Traffic lights go out a lot. There is no four way stop when this happens. It's a "middle of the intersection, it doesn't matter who was here first, I'm going whether you are or not, let's all dance in the middle" type of mentality. Yet there are no wrecks. 3)Puerto Rican's heat mentality. Yes, everyone is hot. No, their house probably doesn't have air. The windows will all be open, all the time. And fans..there must be fans. But no one is ever sweating profusely...or complaining about it. 4)The little spurts of rain every day.(Hey, it is a rainforest after all) It has a distinct smell. I can always smell it coming. And if it is ever mixed with the fresh cut grass..... pure heavenly bliss. 

   I dreamed last night that someone here told me that the island was built upon an ancient fairy mound. I replied, "I knew it! I knew it!!!!" 

   

Pigeons

   Let me tell you all about why I'm awesome. You see, I have people skills. I never meet a stranger. I will contribute to a positive and upbeat environment. Bartending skills? Sure! Name a drink and I'll mix it up. No, never professionally. No, I've technically done any waitressing, but I learn skills very quickly. Yes, the majority of my working life I've repaired furniture. I really am great at what I do. But that's not really an option here. Did I mention I cook? No, not professionally, but I love it and I'm really good at that too. I'm a fast learner! I have great organizing skills....no, no I don't speak Spanish. 

   So goes the wonderful world of pimping your work self out and digging deep into your soul's pockets to grab at something, anything, that businesses will latch on to. Still no job. Everyone has just hired people, just let several go, just not so much wanting a honkey that doesn't se habla espanol. 

   I'm sitting at a Starbucks, sipping my Chai Tea Latte, using the free Internet, attempting to get as far away from the girl to my 5:00 that continues to hack her brains out. I'm contemplating ditching my work/heat friendly blue dress and this disheartening process, for my bikini in the car and the beach that sits alluringly 1 block away. 

   There's a pigeon in front of the window, and Zippideedooda is on the radio. I'm beginning to think at this point, that if there were indeed a bird on my shoulder, it would most definitely be a pigeon. And it would poop on me. My oh my not a wonderful feeling at all. Nope. But speaking of pigeons, let me talk about the beautiful experience I had in old San Juan recently. This was a few days ago. I was turning in resumes to places that won't call back because I don't speak-uh-the-Spanish. I feel like a celebrity here by the way. People look at me, with my flowers in my hair, glowing white skin that stands out like a sore thumb in the sea of caramel, face and shoulders now exploding in Summer's freckles, and (SERIOUSLY, is everyone in here sneezing or coughing?! Ugh! Stay away vacation bugs! Stay away!!) very non-Puerto Rican way of dressing like I

 -must- be here on vacation...and lost, very lost. Pigeons. I turned down a dead end street and saw a park at the end off to the right. So I decided to go. My ears were immediately flooded with distinctly southern accents. There was a tour group from a southern state that I can't remember now. We were delighted to hear one another, y'all. ;) 

   To my right, there's a man playing the accordion. Over by a wall, sits a man selling bags of corn. People everywhere are shrieking, squealing, chuckling, as pigeons lose their little birdy sanity over the corn. Any body that has limbs attached is a landing post. I am immediately disgusted and wonder why anyone would want these nasty creatures, that I just happen to love chasing, landing on them; much less to pay for the experience! But I walk around, take pictures, smile at the weirdos that have birds on pecking up their arms and landing on their heads. And then it happens. I pose my arm in such a way for that perfect shot. Suddenly I am looking a pigeon in the eyes. He has landed on the upper part of my arm. I have no corn. I just want to take a picture. But there he sits, perched on me. (Looking back, I am now convinced that this is the bird that put the magical pigeon trance on me.) Instantly, a feeling rushes over me. I start to laugh....rather loudly. And now, as I look at all these birds, I no longer am disgusted. I no longer want to chase and kick at them. I want them on MY head and arms. I NEED some corn!  A couple is leaving, and they ask if I want their leftover pigeon crack. "Yes, please!!" I screech, with childlike pleading. They hand it to me. Here they come. Somewhere, Chariots of Fire starts playing as they fly in slow motion towards me. (ChChChChhh) I'm covered in pigeons. They land on each other's heads and backs, too exuberant to even care. Hysterical laughter ensues. I try to get out my camera. The couple asks if I would like them to take my picture. "Sure!!" (Again, I am the large child.) 

My face resembles a beaver's in this shot. But this is the first, and perfectly captures the exact moment I just described. So it stays. 

   I am still at the park, dying of laughter, holding my phone. Yet another couple asks if I'd like the moment captured on "film." Isn't it sad that phrase is no longer relevant? I of course agree and try to maintain some type of adult composure for this one. 

   I empty my bag of corn and decide to finally move on. I stop to listen to the accordion player only, with no pigeon interruptions. I give him a tip. He smiles and begins to gently sway as he plays. I can tell he truly enjoys this as he puts his heart in to the song I've tipped him for. 

   I leave him with a smile and a "gracia_"(remember to leave off the "s" while in Puerto Rico.) 

   As I continue my job search for the day, I crave the thick, black, and rich espresso I will certainly be addicted to before I leave from this wonderful place. I find a tiny coffee stand in the middle of a town square and indulge myself. I finish sipping the black gold and feel it's tingly effects starting to reach my fingers and toes. The view is a flowing fountain; a couple holding one another; two older ladies enjoying a coffee break; a man playing guitar and singing; pigeons!; another man, toothless but smiling as he sells corn to smiling children; smiles.

 Just as I am finished sipping, a crack of thunder shakes the sky and there's an instant downpour. (Always carry an umbrella in Puerto Rico.) It's not letting up any time soon. I decide there couldn't be a more perfect ending to this day, so I leave my job search for another one soon, and head home. This place, it has fairy dust in it's concrete foundations. I just know it. 

Big Day Indeed

   I'm just coming in from hanging laundry on the line. I'm still on a high from the other day. I got my résumé together, printed out driving directions(why didn't I think to bring a GPS aside from the one on my phone??), packed some snacks, coated myself in sunscreen and confidence, and strolled out the door. I am tired of being intimidated by an inanimate object. I didn't even practice around the neighborhood first. I just set out on the unnamed roads. There was stop and go traffic, really big hills, merging, people slamming on their brakes in front of me, 5th gear!!!!, and 27.5 miles of unknown terrain. And I survived!! I parked in a garage in the middle of everything and set out on my journey. I dropped off résumés, talked to people, walked around looking for interesting places that I would like to work, wrote down business hours, took pictures, and thoroughly enjoyed myself. I met a really sweet guy that took my résumé and bought me beers as we chatted away about work, life, the island, where to go, etc. Thanks Wil! 

Crabmeat mofongo ^ Ohhh yeaaaaa

 

   We went to the beach on Saturday. Despite double application of SPF 45, I got myself lobster back. Ow. I am so protective of my skin that it really really ticks me off when I let myself get burned.

    Owwww:

   But the beach was gorgeous. There were too many people at this one, but it didn't prevent me from soaking in all of the beauty around me. Someone was playing Reggaeton in the background. (I ADORE Reggaeton) There was a perfect breeze that cut the sun's abrasive smile. And just when the sun began to win, and a drop of sweat formed on my brow, we eased in to the cool Atlantic. I imagined tiny pillars of smoke billowing in to the air and a ssssssssss as our skin touched the salty water. Bliss.

   Last night was family worship.... outside, on the roof, with a background song of Coquis and Spanish guitar. A steady breeze wafted lemongrass in the air. (I now carry my tiny bottle of essential oil with me when I will be outside for extended periods of time. A few drops between my palms and a quick application, is the perfect mosquito barrier for my skin.) A Coqui began to sing from the plant right beside me. I sneaked a peek inside the tubular leaf of a tropical plant I am unfamiliar with, and saw his little froggy face smiling up at me. Oh, Puerto Rico, how you are healing my soul in ways you don't even realize....

   

The Thing That Haunts My Dreams

   I actually got myself out of the house of my own accord yesterday. This is an amazing feat due to the evil beast that lurks outside my door. It stares at me and stalks me with it's beady eyes. It knows no fear of the light of day, nor longs for the cover of night. It slowly, softly, alluringly whispers my name. I resist, distract myself with other things that need to be done. But just like that druggie desperately seeking his next fix, I go to the monster. And while it feels so good, I know that the aftereffects will leave my legs weak, my stomach in knots, and sweat dripping from my brow. Perhaps you know the evil I describe. It goes by different names. Manuel, stick, stick shift, pure hell. Yes, I can admit I am terrified. But I must conquer the beast! So after exercise, working on filling out a resume, cleaning, dishes, etc.., I decided to go.............and get gas. I know you're impressed. I didn't try to find one on a map or GPS it, or anything. I just drove. Let me remind you that the last time I drove one of these has been YEARS ago. And Memphis is FLAT. Pulling in your driveway is a successful attempt of conquering a hill. But here..Ah yes, here, it's like a skinny, pimple-faced, awkward, teenage boy making his very best attempt at alluring an older, beautiful, voluptuous, Spanish Flamenco dancer. She laughs in his face as she "snip snip snip"'s her castanets.
   So I find a gas station. I pull in...on the opposite side of my tank(told you my gut never chooses correctly). That means...I must reverse(gasp!) and pull to the other side. Success!! Here, all is prepay. Standing in line to pay. Drilling my head for the number 30. "30 on dos." "How do you say 'on?'" "Trece? No, that's 13! Blast!!""Treedsaht! No that's Russian you fool!" "Crap, I'm up!" "Thirty on two, please." Good job, honkey. (treinta, dang it) He replies in English. I reply, "Gracia..." They leave off the S's here on so many words. It's kinda great because it reminds me of southern slang. I fill up my car, get some cash out of the atm, and get back on the road. It's too late in the day to attempt driving all the way to the beach or San Juan. I am trying to figure out where I'm going, interpret the signs on the highway, and figure out what I'm doing. I stall in front of a light where I'm turning. "I'm gonna die!!!!!!" Honk Honk HONNNKKKKK.....and I gallop off. The idea of getting around via horse is seeming less and less unordinary....
   I'm driving along, rather deflated and thinking I'm just gonna head back home when I see signs for Jardin Botanico ahead. Yes! Wait forever at a light, turn signal, zoom zoom ppthhpppttt. Crank! First, vroom, ppthhppptttt. Light turns red. Light stays red for...ever. I have a car behind me now. -Gulp-. "I can do this. I can do this." There's the arrow again! First, vroom, die. Crank, first, vroom, die. "C'MON FOR THE LOVE OF ALL THAT'S HOLY DON'T LET ME STAY DEAD IN THE MIDDLE OF THIS HUGE INTERSEC......." vroom in to the parking lot! WHOO HOO!! Park. Walk up to the gardens. They closed 15 minutes ago. Really?? I walk around the parking lot anyways, just to step away from the monster for a while. I spy an open gate for exiting. I mosy on up, look around, strut right in. Thank you, thank you very much. What a recharge for my deflated soul!! This place is utterly gorgeous. Off to my right, there is a most beautiful couple getting photographed. He is perfectly sculpted, shirtless, and glistening in the sun. And she is radiant with her perfectly pregnant belly shining. I think of sweet Heather and the precious bean. Little butterflies escape when I imagine another baby Jennings. I adore those kids.
   I am enamored with this place. I am re-energized.
   Today: Up early with Rheanna to exercise, smoothie, finish writing this, finish resume and print off several, shower, Bob Marley while I get ready, take my first extended journey with the monster to San Juan, try to get myself a job, a little beach before heading back. Here goes....
  

Learning To Fly

   So, it's been a while. I have never stopped writing. I can never stop.. If you're reading this, you probably know me well. And that means you know I have a lot to say. I'm never quiet. If I am, my mind is speaking a million words a minute. My thoughts go down on pen and paper or in the notes of my phone these days. But I thought it would be a nice change to bring it on back to the good ol' blog. Plus, Tommy would kill me if I didn't set this up so that everyone back home can stalk my adventures.
   This is a travel blog, yes. So it's gonna be lots of fun times and pictures and laughs and ridiculousness. It's also me, my thoughts, my feelings. Those have been known to get ugly sometimes. But I'm putting it all down because I think that's only fair to my dark side. I am trying to view this Summer as a healing process, some down time from the negative. And I think part of that process is sorting through the bad stuff. Nobody is all smiles all the time. And if they are, they're faking, at least sometimes.
   Now that we're through all that disclaimer bunk, let's get down to bidness!
DAY 1, Puerto Rico:
   The official start of this journey was on Saturday. First of all, packing for 2+ months is ROUGH. What was the worst part? Shoes, of course. That being said, I ended up with 2 checked bags, each under the 50lb weight limit, 10 pairs of shoes, a small carry on, and my purse. I think that's not too shabby. Back to Saturday. I drove to MO to see Ava's dance recital and then fly out of St. Louis on Monday. She did great. And I will admit to getting teary-eyed.... It of course was awesome to see everybody. It blows my mind that Heather has another little bean growing. They make some pretty fantastic kids, so grow away I say!
   Heather and Ava drove me to the St. Louis airport. Checking in has never been so easy! Anywho, as soon as I walk in, there is a JW.org booth set up with two sweet sisters. Within 5 minutes, there were introductions, hugs, pictures, huge toothy grins and farewells. Then I'm off to the strip down for security. Once again, relatively smooth except for my bag having to get rechecked because of some soaps, toothpaste, and some tree hugger items I stashed in my carry on. All good. The flight was great. I got instructed to sit in the exit row between two nice fellas.(it was open seating) A moment after I sit down, the flight attendant walks back by, laughs, pats the man on my left on his shoulder and she mutters something I don't understand. He starts laughing. I feel am I missing out on something, which he senses, and informs me that he told the flight attendant to find a tiny Asian woman to sit next to him. (His last flight was spent squished next to an overflowing fella occupying the seat by him) He then laughs and says, "Well, you're not Asian, but you'll do!" I wasn't sure whether to be offended or flattered, but decided upon the latter. Turns out he was a medical student and we shared awful stories of the medical field. Good times. He left me with well wishes for my journey and finishing school and a coupon for a free drink on my next flight.(Rum rum rum. I love rum) Thanks Mehdi!
   I had a 4 hour layover in Ft. Lauderdale(which is an impossibly hard word for my slightly lisping tongue to ever make it's way around perfectly the first time) (You just said it out loud didn't you?HehHeh) I parked myself at the bar of a Mediterranean restaurant and enjoyed some hummus and grilled veggies. There I read several chapters of my book, enjoyed some most delicious Cuba Libre, and eavesdropped on numerous people that occupied the chairs around me. I amused myself with a game of successfully predicting what drinks most would order. I wondered if I am that transparent. I got bored with lame conversation and went back to reading. I couldn't figure out the bartenders accent, so I asked. St. Lucia. We shared refreshing stories of travels, life, skin color, friends, and prejudice. Someone had to be waited on so I go back to finish my chapter. Someone next to me starts a conversation with, "I couldn't help eavesdropping just now." I openly admit to my earlier antics. I love people with tales. I could listen all day long. He shared stories of college, unhappy career choices, a 7 year old son that spent the first part of his life in the NICU, deep respect for pediatric nurses, and well wishes for my promising career and adventures. And just like that, four hours were gone. I said goodbyes to St Lucia and NICU and went the wrong way out. My gut never tells the right direction, ever. Turned around, on my way to my next flight. Almost there, I reach in my bag and see the magazine on prejudice ending. Missed opportunity#1.
   Security check again. Ugh. Bag recheck for odd looking items....again. All good. I know I've reached the correct terminal when I am surrounded by caramel skin, free flowing Spanish conversations, and yes, there's someone in the corner playing Spanish guitar. Perfecto. I step out of the airport and immediately fill my lungs with the rush of warm Puerto Rican air and drench my ears in the Coqui! Coqui! Coqui! Coqui! song of the frogs. I had forgotten how much I loved that sound. And then before my eyes start to feel left out, there's Omar and Rheanna, my precious friends who have made this all possible. Hugs, drive, gifts, sleep.
   That brings us to today. Today has been a lazy day of unpacking, nibbling on fresh mango, and finding a place for all my things. I'm laying on my bed. There's a breeze dancing in and out of all of the open windows throughout the house. A fan refuses to succumb to the heat. A dove is harmonizing with other unknown birds outside my window as the neighbor across the street meticulously sweeps her driveway. Life is good.