Hunting and Gathering

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Last night I stuffed myself with a very satisfying dinner of a pork chop, a heap of brussels sprouts, and salad. I hope that my body is all caught up now. From the time I got here, I've been starving, as if my esophagus had taken a detour and stopped delivering food to my stomach. My metabolism may have been ramped up due to the stress of the transition, or it may have been the psychological aspect of having so few culinary ingredients in the house and little money to buy more. It seems as if I was craving the "comfort" junk foods, too -- chips, soda, chocolate, baked goods -- so I'm guessing it was psychological.

Now that I've been paid, I can start buying more food. But also, I've discovered another source. I pay attention to when the guests check out, then go raid their kitchens before the housekeeper gets there. Since these are housekeeping apartments, they always buy food and condiments for their stay, and they can't take it with them when they go. I don't take everything; I leave some for the housekeeper. But so far I've gotten lettuce and tomato, salad dressing, mustard, tortillas, garlic, onion, and a bit of red wine. It's like I've become a sort of hunter-gatherer.

Hey, It's Culebra!

Image by Jim B L via Flickr

There's a whole different mindset here. If the slow pace in the south drives you nuts, don't come here. If you think everything revolves around the customer, think again. Most of the time I like this relaxed way of thinking, but sometimes it is aggravating. With time, I will learn to live with the lifestyle. Don't worry, be happy.

Culebra is a place where the streets are so narrow, cars drive on the sidewalk so trucks can get through. It's a place where businesses don't know what time they close until they close for the day. It's a place where the bank locks its door because there's only one teller and there are already too many people in line.

It's not what most North Americans are used to, and whenever we encounter something unexpected like this, we shrug and say, "Hey, it's Culebra!"

How to Eat a Mango

Image by A30_Tsitika via Flickr

I love mangoes. I bought one at the produce stand last week, and it was finally ripe enough to eat today. It could have sat another day or so, but I was impatient. It really wasn't any different than buying one in the States, since it wasn't ripe off the tree, but it's the thought.

A mango is something you don't want to eat in polite company. I've never figured out a good way to do it -- though I've heard the best way to eat one is naked, standing in the ocean. I have to agree with that, since they are so juicy, and the juice runs everywhere.

In Mexico they impale a mango on a stick or special mango fork, pull the peel off, and just gnaw it off. They sell them on the street that way -- fruit on a stick. You can't handily cut them up because you can't pop the seed out like some fruits.

I ate mine at the kitchen sink. I peeled the skin off one half, sliced the flesh, and then carved it off the seed as I went. Then I held the exposed seed, peeled the other half, and ate it the same way. By the time I was done, I had juice up to my elbows. Then I went for some dental floss...mangoes are so stringy. But soooo good!

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I'm Practicing For a New Occupation

Image by _ambrown via Flickr

I guess I'm supposed to be a painter. I spent a couple weeks this past summer painting Mom's sheds, and now I'm painting here. I like to paint, though I wouldn't say I'm that good at it. Most of the painting I've done has been interior, but these most recent jobs have been exterior.

Mom's sheds aren't very big, and up until today I've been painting the lower level of one of the apartment buildings. I could reach it all with a step ladder. Today I finished that and moved on to the laundry building, which is just one story, but still high enough that I need to use the small extension ladder. No big deal, I could handle it okay. I just have to be more careful about leveling it, and it's a bit trickier to climb up and hold onto the paint tray.

Painting itself is trickier here, just because of the constant breeze. As I pour the paint into the tray, strands stream out all over everything. And I have to wash out the tools and tray about every two hours because the paint dries so fast it all gets gummed up. And sometimes it's hard to make any progress because I just want to sit and gaze out at the sea and surrounding islands.

Puerto Postage Stamps

Tom wanted some Puerto Rico stamps to send postcards, but USPS doesn't have any with PR designs. So I went online and found some:

Design personalized gifts at Zazzle.

First Impressions

When I first got here to Culebra Island, Puerto Rico, I wasn't sure if I was going to like it. Yes, everybody thought I was nuts to be griping about it when they were all shivering in 20 degrees back in Cleveland. But it wasn't the location I was unsure of, I guess, it was the situation. Here's my first impressions.

First of all, I was exhausted and stressed. I'd only found out I had the job seven days before. I had no time to think or plan much of anything. I spent four days driving home to Ohio from New Mexico and one day unloading the van, deciding what I needed to take with me, packing, and arranging for my van to be sold. The next day I flew out of Cleveland.

In San Juan, I took a taxi to the other airport where I got an island hopper over to Culebra. My new boss met me and took me to get some groceries before delivering me to my new apartment. At this point of the day, I'd been on the go for about 10 hours. I was tired and I was hungry. I just wanted to sit down, take a deep breath, and relax. But the boss kept talking and telling me about the job and showing me things around the place. As if I was going to remember anything. Finally I got to eat and sit down...but I didn't get a day to settle in. I was expected at work the very next day.

So I have a furnished apartment to live in. It's an old semi-trailer, but done over to be pretty nice. There were some pots and pans, a couple plates and bowls, a couple knives, forks and spoons, and some serrated steak knives. No paring knives that would actually be useful for cooking. No measuring cups. Nothing to put leftovers in. And no can opener. I was glad I hadn't bought only canned goods. Also nothing to wash dishes with except a stainless steel scratcher.

Moving into the bathroom, I found that there were no towels. I hadn't brought any because I'd been assured that the apartment had everything I'd need. I rummaged around in the bedroom and found some old curtains that felt like cotton. Not full curtains, actually, just valances. So for several days I was drying after my shower with a narrow valance.

Did I mention there is no hot water? Whenever I want to wash dishes, I have to heat water on the stove. The shower has an on-demand water heater that really doesn't work well. In order to have warm water, it has to be coming out in just a dribble. Even then, it fluctuates from warm to pretty darn cold, for reasons I haven't been able to figure out.

Then my computer wouldn't connect to the wifi. It turned out to be something in my computer and I got it working after a couple days, but along with everything else, it aggravated me. And although Verizon's map online shows coverage here, my cell phone rarely works. Certainly no one can call me, and if I try to call out, I have to stand out in the driveway and hope to catch an errant signal. Usually it takes four or five tries for the call to go through, and then it often loses signal before I'm done.

So THAT's why I seemed less than appreciative of my new home. I love the view, I love the climate, I love the roosters that wake me at 4:30 every morning. But those first few days were trying indeed.

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