On Possessed Fruit

This morning I walked into the kitchen and heard an unusual sound.

Like the sound of gas escaping from something wet.

I looked in the direction of the sound and all that was there was.....a watermelon.

The watermelon was making noise.

I am not ok with fruit making noises.

Not ok.

On the Pleasures of the San Juan Ritz-Carlton

I'm not sure why people think it's a great idea to have work conferences in lovely destinations.  It doesn't really encourage a strong work ethic, nor does it make long days of presentations in freezing cold, windowless conference rooms more pleasant.

Am I complaining about spending a week at in lovely San Juan at the Ritz?  Never.  In fact, I would like to take time to note the four things I most appreciate about the San Juan Ritz-Carlton:

Thing 1: The artwork is fantastic.  What was the last time you loved the art on the walls of a hotel?

Thing 2: Today I left the hotel in gym shorts and a tank top, prominently carrying a wallet, and walked by myself down the block to a Walgreens pharmacy [where I spent $104 on fun nice-to-haves].  The Ritz may not be directly responsible for my safety, re-invigorated sense of liberty, or the convenient location of the Walgreens but I'm feeling generous.

Thing 3: Hot water.  Hot water comes out of the taps with 0 wait time! Amazing.  And a good way to save water.  But maybe not energy?  Whatever.  I love it.

Thing 4: There are short toilet seats in the bathrooms by the conference room!  My knees are at right angles when I sit down on the seat!  Thanks, Ritz-Carlton!

On Wedding Awesomeness!

stay tuned to photos of fun

On Strange Hotel Guests

The staff of the hotel in which Beta (American mother, Brazilian father, multi-lingual friends) and Cris (Brazilian parents, multi-lingual friends) had their wedding were used to having Brazilian guests.  Or sometimes foreign guests who didn't speak Portuguese.  But all these guests for the wedding were switching between languages, sometimes while talking to the same person!  They looked at us in wonder, like a looking at a mouse with leopard spots.

My mother came in to see me while I was getting my nails done and after she left, the manicurist said, "I was listening to you and your mother making all those strange sounds and I wondered to myself, 'can they really understand each other?'"

On Waves upon Waves upon Waves....

Poetry is not for me.  I find it tiresome and unnecessarily convoluted. But every time I step out onto the beaches of Ilheus, the scene inspires nothing short of love.  The beaches are unlike any others I know:

The sand is a modest brown, but so fine that it packs down hard and flat - you can easily ride a bike on it or even bounce a basketball.  The beach is so flat that at low tide the water recedes dramatically.  The waves break in simultaneous rows of five or six: thunderous ones that only the surfers brave farther out to sea and subsequently smaller ones that break over each other until they are barely ankle high.

I love how the waves come in in sweeping arcs with lacy edges - sometimes like the borders of an egg fried in butter and sometimes more delicate, like a crepe.  The water is too turbulent to be blue but occasionally a shy wave will venture out to kiss my feet, as crystalline as a layer of clear nail polish.

For every meek wave, there are those assertive ones that may only come up to mid-shin but rush in with such force that unless you stand your ground, you risk water shooting up your legs and soaking you thoroughly.  You have to walk a far way out to actually get half way submerged.  Those of us who know the sneaky way of these waves, like this weekend's bride and my childhood friend, Roberta, can master wave jumping while still keeping our possession of our bathing suits.

I didn't expect to spend any time with Beta during her wedding weekend, so I was thrilled to slip away with her to the beach not once, but twice.  The first time, we went for a walk, like countless walks we have taken on these beaches, usually with some combination of mothers and sister.  The hard sand leaves your feet baby soft afterwards!  The second time, we went out to wave jump like the pros that we are.

Simple pleasures...