I spoke of the gods in my last blog and their conquests of falling into one another. My life has fallen into similar crossroads. Is it just chance that this all doesn't smash together leaving behind ecdysis of ego, or are we destined to live these lives in perpetual rotation around the epicenters where Adam and Eve could have set up shop.
It is beautiful, it is outrageous in it's beauty. I grew up bragging about my proximity to nature in Portland, Oregon. Juneau, Alaska brags about natures proximity to humans. Looking up into the 3,500 foot peaks in my backyard I worry that a tremendous fart wouldn't expel bears, goats, porcupines, eagles, or hoary marmots(hmph!), causing them all to tumble down to my doorstep. It all brings a great turbulence in my life though, I don't know what to blog about. It is all too great and minute for words.
I can tell you this, we live in a rainforest. We arrived descending between snow capped mountains. What was once the baron peaks of our icy decent is now emerald mountains vomiting biomass onto our doorstep. I never thought I could draw a parallel between Cozumel and Juneau but there is one; If man evacuated, nature would erase our fingerprint from the land. Stephanie witnessed seven bald eagles in a salmon feeding frenzy, neighbors report bears and porcupines in our backyard. I still have only seen the largest bumble bees ever.
Thursday, June 9, 2011
Thursday, May 5, 2011
We left, to the right?
In December we departed Portland in the absence of the mighty W's. Who, What, Where, Why, and When? We carried with ourselves partial truths to those questions and what we thought was concrete turned to sand by the tides of Cozumel. As if we were Artemis we chose a new path changing the currents of our lives and moved to Juneau. In the first three days of being here it is difficult to decipher the chaos in the wake of our travels.
Standing on the shores of our southern home one has the sense that Neptune might take that flat slab of limestone we call Cozumel and drown it, letting the people and iguanas swim back to the Yucatan peninsula. Standing on the banks of Juneau, though not truly on the opposite side of the planet, might as well be a completely new planet. Here the mountains cloister us in, we can only hope they are not slumbering giants with fitful dreams causing them to toss and turn burying this gold rush cliche forever.
Honestly it is beautiful, gorgeous, the buildings ruin it. I wish I could get in a time machine and see it unspoiled. It makes all the difference in our lives, our job forces us to live in beauty. We earn money where others empty their pockets to visit for a small sliver of their lives. The shame of it all is our psyches ability to make azure seas and glacial peaks into the everyday doldrums.
We are lucky in that like Apollo we can view our lives from a distance and squash the minutia, living with the giants our gods gave us to play with.
More will come on this blog about our fits and glees, this is all I have for now.
No bears... Yet
Standing on the shores of our southern home one has the sense that Neptune might take that flat slab of limestone we call Cozumel and drown it, letting the people and iguanas swim back to the Yucatan peninsula. Standing on the banks of Juneau, though not truly on the opposite side of the planet, might as well be a completely new planet. Here the mountains cloister us in, we can only hope they are not slumbering giants with fitful dreams causing them to toss and turn burying this gold rush cliche forever.
Honestly it is beautiful, gorgeous, the buildings ruin it. I wish I could get in a time machine and see it unspoiled. It makes all the difference in our lives, our job forces us to live in beauty. We earn money where others empty their pockets to visit for a small sliver of their lives. The shame of it all is our psyches ability to make azure seas and glacial peaks into the everyday doldrums.
We are lucky in that like Apollo we can view our lives from a distance and squash the minutia, living with the giants our gods gave us to play with.
More will come on this blog about our fits and glees, this is all I have for now.
No bears... Yet
Tuesday, April 5, 2011
Heaven?
We have been frequenting the same beach on our days off, it is a beautiful beach but it has garnered associations of gastroenteritis as it was where Steph ingested the crippling contaminant. A new beach was needed and the name "El Cielo" had been drifting in out of our peripherals. With the translation being "heaven" how could we not go. Promised were deserted beaches, bay protected snorkeling, and a carpet of starfish so thick only to emulate the heavens themselves. Conventional methods of getting to El Cielo is aboard a boat, and we actually have plenty of access to boats with the friends we keep, but they still can be expensive with the gas prices down here and the tendency for boats to be gas hogs. My friend Jasibe and her boyfriend Miguel told us they had a way to achieve our goals of ascension without the use of boat, we would simply take the pilgrimage on foot. They warned us that 45 minute trek was to be book-ending our time in heaven, this didn't bother me in the least, everyone knows sacrifice is one of the keys to unlocking the pearly gates. I in fact took it as a good sign, our favorite beach in Oregon requires about the same atonement of time additionally traveling the hundreds of feet of vertical switchbacks. Cozumel being a flat island I expected the worst of it being hot, sticky and maybe a little boring.
We gathered ourselves and made the necessary pit stops along the way, gas, snorkel gear, bathroom breaks, microwave pizza, beers and other normal necessities associated with a small adventure for a group of twenty year olds. Our wagon train consisted of Jasibe, Miguel, Jasibe's sister, Simone, Nathalie, Simone's daughter, and the two of us. I was surprised to find ourselves pulling into a day resort parking lot, for some reason I was expecting us to park the cars on the side of a dirt road with very little clearance for other cars and hiking in through a rarely used but manageable trail that navigated its way through mangrove forests and open marsh land. Instead we were trespassing through the resort, thanks for the parking, and tromping down the beach. Jasibe had us take note of a point of mangroves extending into the ocean and told us heaven awaited on the other side. I could picture it we would wrap around the point and a secluded bay would be waiting for us. The distance looked manageable, it was the variety of hiking where Point A is in view of Point B and Brain tries to tell itself that the distance is too great, and tries to tell Body all of the downfalls of the distance, "You are going to be walking in sand you know." But experience has taught Body to just start trudging, and before any parts can complain to the next of the folly of their ways your Body is standing on Point B and Brain staring back at point A feeling stupid.
The sun was out and our jolly party of conch shell marauders started our journey. We came to the beach on a magical day it was hotter and more humid than what we were accustomed to, the sea was churning heavier than usual and we were most blessed by putrid seaweed the ocean had been vomiting onto our slim hiking path for the last couple of days. In some areas our sandy bath was interrupted by hundreds of feet of thick rotting sea vegetation with the accompanying smell one only finds with death. Every footfall was akin to the stench misting us as if we were stepping on the pumps of the most vile antique perfume bottles. Yet we continued because as Body predicted we were at Point B in no time, and there was no more decaying sea mass underfoot, in fact there was no more beach at all, we were standing at the tip of a great mangrove forest that had thrust a great finger of tangled of biomass into the sea.
I was starting to see that look on Steph's face, it's a look that tells me that she is being a trooper but the current situation should be changing as soon as possible. We changed the situation as soon as possible, we began bushwhacking our way through the mangroves in hope that Heaven would recognize the penance we placed upon ourselves and be open to us soon. As most bushwhacking goes we wandered in circles got tired and gave up. We couldn't go around the the tip of the finger either because of the rough seas, we couldn't see what is usually the white sand bottom through azure waters. We didn't want to step on broken conch shells, lion fish, or crocodiles. I've heard that there are crocodiles on Cozumel but I figure there are Crocodiles here like there are wolves in Oregon, I am not really worried about getting eaten by one, plus how big could they get in this dense forest.
We made do with sitting in a spot not quite vegetable rot and only a few feet from where as I exited from the forest hundreds of tiny beetles decided I made for a good transport vessel.
Steph was beyond reconciliation so we bided our time as the crew ate and we attempted to snorkel in swirling currents of flotsam seaweed muck. I gave up early grabbed our gear and we deserted our friends. I really wanted to take pictures of the horror of it all but I had a feeling my placing all the repugnance that was around us on a higher pedestal than Steph would have only ended up with my camera going for a swim. I had to play the mean husband and just start walking at a clip a little faster than Steph's. The key to our emotional survival was to not dwell on what was underfoot and focus on the checkered flag at the finish line. In no time I had Steph sitting in a chair drinking a beer back at the resort we had used for parking. Here I began to understand the true torture Stephanie was going through. One of her most hated things back home is walking barefoot on wet grass, that translation hadn't made it through my nerve endings but Steph's feet had made the translation perfectly and converted it into a few other languages as well as speaking in tongues. It was all over though and the rattled gang met up with us a little later as gathered ourselves in the parking lot next to a swamp mourning our disappointment over rejection from heaven. And hey look, some crocodiles, big crocodiles.
We gathered ourselves and made the necessary pit stops along the way, gas, snorkel gear, bathroom breaks, microwave pizza, beers and other normal necessities associated with a small adventure for a group of twenty year olds. Our wagon train consisted of Jasibe, Miguel, Jasibe's sister, Simone, Nathalie, Simone's daughter, and the two of us. I was surprised to find ourselves pulling into a day resort parking lot, for some reason I was expecting us to park the cars on the side of a dirt road with very little clearance for other cars and hiking in through a rarely used but manageable trail that navigated its way through mangrove forests and open marsh land. Instead we were trespassing through the resort, thanks for the parking, and tromping down the beach. Jasibe had us take note of a point of mangroves extending into the ocean and told us heaven awaited on the other side. I could picture it we would wrap around the point and a secluded bay would be waiting for us. The distance looked manageable, it was the variety of hiking where Point A is in view of Point B and Brain tries to tell itself that the distance is too great, and tries to tell Body all of the downfalls of the distance, "You are going to be walking in sand you know." But experience has taught Body to just start trudging, and before any parts can complain to the next of the folly of their ways your Body is standing on Point B and Brain staring back at point A feeling stupid.
The sun was out and our jolly party of conch shell marauders started our journey. We came to the beach on a magical day it was hotter and more humid than what we were accustomed to, the sea was churning heavier than usual and we were most blessed by putrid seaweed the ocean had been vomiting onto our slim hiking path for the last couple of days. In some areas our sandy bath was interrupted by hundreds of feet of thick rotting sea vegetation with the accompanying smell one only finds with death. Every footfall was akin to the stench misting us as if we were stepping on the pumps of the most vile antique perfume bottles. Yet we continued because as Body predicted we were at Point B in no time, and there was no more decaying sea mass underfoot, in fact there was no more beach at all, we were standing at the tip of a great mangrove forest that had thrust a great finger of tangled of biomass into the sea.
I was starting to see that look on Steph's face, it's a look that tells me that she is being a trooper but the current situation should be changing as soon as possible. We changed the situation as soon as possible, we began bushwhacking our way through the mangroves in hope that Heaven would recognize the penance we placed upon ourselves and be open to us soon. As most bushwhacking goes we wandered in circles got tired and gave up. We couldn't go around the the tip of the finger either because of the rough seas, we couldn't see what is usually the white sand bottom through azure waters. We didn't want to step on broken conch shells, lion fish, or crocodiles. I've heard that there are crocodiles on Cozumel but I figure there are Crocodiles here like there are wolves in Oregon, I am not really worried about getting eaten by one, plus how big could they get in this dense forest.
We made do with sitting in a spot not quite vegetable rot and only a few feet from where as I exited from the forest hundreds of tiny beetles decided I made for a good transport vessel.
Steph was beyond reconciliation so we bided our time as the crew ate and we attempted to snorkel in swirling currents of flotsam seaweed muck. I gave up early grabbed our gear and we deserted our friends. I really wanted to take pictures of the horror of it all but I had a feeling my placing all the repugnance that was around us on a higher pedestal than Steph would have only ended up with my camera going for a swim. I had to play the mean husband and just start walking at a clip a little faster than Steph's. The key to our emotional survival was to not dwell on what was underfoot and focus on the checkered flag at the finish line. In no time I had Steph sitting in a chair drinking a beer back at the resort we had used for parking. Here I began to understand the true torture Stephanie was going through. One of her most hated things back home is walking barefoot on wet grass, that translation hadn't made it through my nerve endings but Steph's feet had made the translation perfectly and converted it into a few other languages as well as speaking in tongues. It was all over though and the rattled gang met up with us a little later as gathered ourselves in the parking lot next to a swamp mourning our disappointment over rejection from heaven. And hey look, some crocodiles, big crocodiles.
Wednesday, March 23, 2011
Maybe just a weather god.
A simple, beautiful weekend at the beach, with Moises, turned into hell for Steph. It was our usual day at the beach, Moises picked us up we got our usual of beers, chicken, salsa, and tortillas. We relaxed, swam and saw what amazing sights we could find. An infection decided to wreak havoc on Steph's stomach with the full evacuation of her bowels from whichever orifice seemed fit at 2 AM through 8 am.The doctors visit the next day confirmed she had gastroenteritis. She came through it like a champ, a crippled, severally dehydrated, feverish, exhausted dry heaving champion. We aren't completely sure what she ingested that Moises and I didn't, it might have been simply her immune system was too crippled from her cold she had from the previous week.
At 5 in the morning I was trying to take care of my wife who was curled up in the fetal position dry heaving bile onto the floor but I couldn't help notice the alien light falling against our living room wall through the window. The restaurant across the street was on fire and I had to be at work in fifteen minutes I, of course, still managed to get pictures. Of the fire not Steph.
At 5 in the morning I was trying to take care of my wife who was curled up in the fetal position dry heaving bile onto the floor but I couldn't help notice the alien light falling against our living room wall through the window. The restaurant across the street was on fire and I had to be at work in fifteen minutes I, of course, still managed to get pictures. Of the fire not Steph.
Vacation?
With all of the chaos of work I decided to make the commitment and spend a little cash so we could have a day of sloth. We work with tourists so our own time is usually spent avoiding the same market to the fullest extent possible. The draw of all you can eat buffets, unlimited beachside drinks and full use of non motorized beach sports equipment had cast it's siren song over us. The morning was beautiful, we ran a few errands and were giddy to spend the rest of the day lounging, swimming and being pampered at an all-inclusive resort on a day pass. We got settled on our beach chairs with margarita in hand and we watched our first thunderstorm roll through since we arrived here. I
guess all of my complaining about the weak storms here finally caught up with me. Honestly it barely rained on us but we didn't put on any sunscreen and we had no hints of having a darker complexion. Luckily we know how to make the best of our situation regardless of the external circumstances. We went kayaking down the deserted coastline of Cozumel, swimming in the Caribbean currents, and watching the local fishermen ignore their chances of reeling in the big one in hopes of catching another glimpse of Steph paddling around without her top on. Working up an appetite I ate one of the largest plates of ceviche I could muster, a hamburger, french fries, nachos, and whatever else could take up real estate on my numerous rotating plates. Every time we found ourselves in a rain shower we speculated on how much fell and tried to drink the likes in margaritas.
During this all we realized we had a lucky charm for our days off, our friend Moises. When we head out with Moises the weather is always amazing, when we are on our own it is a game of craps with loaded dice. When we finally move back to Portland I will have to devise a way for him to live with us January through June.
guess all of my complaining about the weak storms here finally caught up with me. Honestly it barely rained on us but we didn't put on any sunscreen and we had no hints of having a darker complexion. Luckily we know how to make the best of our situation regardless of the external circumstances. We went kayaking down the deserted coastline of Cozumel, swimming in the Caribbean currents, and watching the local fishermen ignore their chances of reeling in the big one in hopes of catching another glimpse of Steph paddling around without her top on. Working up an appetite I ate one of the largest plates of ceviche I could muster, a hamburger, french fries, nachos, and whatever else could take up real estate on my numerous rotating plates. Every time we found ourselves in a rain shower we speculated on how much fell and tried to drink the likes in margaritas.
During this all we realized we had a lucky charm for our days off, our friend Moises. When we head out with Moises the weather is always amazing, when we are on our own it is a game of craps with loaded dice. When we finally move back to Portland I will have to devise a way for him to live with us January through June.
It is too bright anyways.
4 AM came in the same way that one realizes a limb has fallen completely asleep, it all just stopped working. Our ceiling fan slowed, the IPad turned on to say it was done charging, and a blanket of quiet smothered us like a fresh snow storm. The previous day on my walk to work I actually was pondering how I and my work would respond to a complete black out at the time when I should be shaving my face for my incoming clients. I texted my manger that I was going to be late because the possibilities of showering and shaving in the pitch black and being on time were negligible. The genius of it all was that Steph and I were finally on the same schedule, so I sacrificed what hot water we had left to Steph and showed up to work a half an hour late. What transpired upon arrival is why I have reservations of going to Alaska; I sat on the curb and hung out with my coworkers for an hour and a half while management tried to figure out what to do with us while no form of security existed on the interior of the building. And I absolutely love my coworkers, Steph loves hers too. I don't think we will ever meet a greater group of people in such a stressed out crazy environment, and they will not be coming with us North. As for the power, the entire island had no current because of a construction project severing a line and power was restored by seven AM. The entire incident was forgotten two days later, except we still mention the stars which made their appearance in this unnaturally bright tiny town.
The confused blogger
I have found myself in an interesting crossroads based upon the most benal sentence in my last blog but also the most important on how we live our lives, comfort. What do we see, and how do we see it. How does it shape our comfort zone.
I am becoming bipolar in regards to this blog, or how I reflect upon my life. When you have your toes wrapped around the cleft of a chasm do you scream in terror or do you melt and let the pure beauty of your situation overtake you. I have always been of the latter attitude, sit down and watch it all go by. Surprisingly Steph has unwittingly, unknowingly sat down next to me and let her toes dip into the chaotic white water that comes with the currents of our lives.
I am having a difficult time writing this blog, I have so many audiences I want to write for, or that is what I tell myself. Do I write for my parents, do I write for Steph's parents, or is my audience my friends? The real problem arises in the fact that I am more than one character on a stage. And each character comes out in a different way to take hold of my narrative. This is going to be a long post and highly disjointed, please read through as if it is a series of short stories by a plethora of authors.
Okay I am no longer a narrative blogger I am the author of non fiction short stories. Or something.
I am becoming bipolar in regards to this blog, or how I reflect upon my life. When you have your toes wrapped around the cleft of a chasm do you scream in terror or do you melt and let the pure beauty of your situation overtake you. I have always been of the latter attitude, sit down and watch it all go by. Surprisingly Steph has unwittingly, unknowingly sat down next to me and let her toes dip into the chaotic white water that comes with the currents of our lives.
I am having a difficult time writing this blog, I have so many audiences I want to write for, or that is what I tell myself. Do I write for my parents, do I write for Steph's parents, or is my audience my friends? The real problem arises in the fact that I am more than one character on a stage. And each character comes out in a different way to take hold of my narrative. This is going to be a long post and highly disjointed, please read through as if it is a series of short stories by a plethora of authors.
Okay I am no longer a narrative blogger I am the author of non fiction short stories. Or something.
Thursday, March 3, 2011
Oh yeah, I have a blog.
The last couple of weeks have been relatively unremarkable. It makes it difficult to write a blog about our latest exploits when most of the week is remarkably repetitive. This job offers enough entertainment that the weeks are swift. I often find myself on Mondays remorsefully thinking about the six remaining days of work only to find myself befuddled that I have a day off with no plans on the following Saturday evening.
The Sunday before last I found myself blinking into the predawn darkness prepping a boat for some fishing. Or at least trying to prep it as we spent a good hour trying to figure out why the hydraulics wouldn't lower one of the engines on the boat we were on. The boat was provided by Captain Bob who is one of my work buddies old friends. I feel very fortunate to have made these new friends and connections as it will lead to future fishing (Thank you www.blogger.com for having auto save, as my power just went out.) adventures and Stephanie will soon reap the rewards of some post fishing, we have to make it up to the girls, lounging on boat access only beaches.
Once we got out of the pier it took no time for Bob to announce that we were far enough out to start laying out our tackle. It was akin to watching an insect pupate. When I got on the boat it was a hard shelled simple creature with one ability, movement. Then the boat began to unfold. Within thirty minutes the boat had sprouted six antennas with feelers reaching out behind us enticing fish with bait wearing neon skirts. Now it was a beast blessed with the abilities reserved for those animals normally feared by man and considered kings by their brethren.
We didn't catch anything.
Stephanie and I made the decision to swap our state of wellness, so the following Sunday was spent relaxing/recovering depending on what side of the fence we were on. We ate good food and watched a couple of movies that we probably actually wouldn't have gotten around to for a while in the states, "127 hours" and "The Social Network". It made me feel current as the Oscars aired that night and both of these films were up for awards.
I will try to be a more avid blogger, and take note of the small things that I have begun to pass over as I get use to this place and yet my few readers might find a moment of fancy in.
And, I am not taking enough photographs while I am here. Give me an assignment, anything (um, except relatives, I know you are going to say pictures of yourselves, give me a little more and I will work that detail into it) If you give me an assignment in the comments section I will post the outcome in my next blog.
The Sunday before last I found myself blinking into the predawn darkness prepping a boat for some fishing. Or at least trying to prep it as we spent a good hour trying to figure out why the hydraulics wouldn't lower one of the engines on the boat we were on. The boat was provided by Captain Bob who is one of my work buddies old friends. I feel very fortunate to have made these new friends and connections as it will lead to future fishing (Thank you www.blogger.com for having auto save, as my power just went out.) adventures and Stephanie will soon reap the rewards of some post fishing, we have to make it up to the girls, lounging on boat access only beaches.
Once we got out of the pier it took no time for Bob to announce that we were far enough out to start laying out our tackle. It was akin to watching an insect pupate. When I got on the boat it was a hard shelled simple creature with one ability, movement. Then the boat began to unfold. Within thirty minutes the boat had sprouted six antennas with feelers reaching out behind us enticing fish with bait wearing neon skirts. Now it was a beast blessed with the abilities reserved for those animals normally feared by man and considered kings by their brethren.
We didn't catch anything.
Stephanie and I made the decision to swap our state of wellness, so the following Sunday was spent relaxing/recovering depending on what side of the fence we were on. We ate good food and watched a couple of movies that we probably actually wouldn't have gotten around to for a while in the states, "127 hours" and "The Social Network". It made me feel current as the Oscars aired that night and both of these films were up for awards.
I will try to be a more avid blogger, and take note of the small things that I have begun to pass over as I get use to this place and yet my few readers might find a moment of fancy in.
And, I am not taking enough photographs while I am here. Give me an assignment, anything (um, except relatives, I know you are going to say pictures of yourselves, give me a little more and I will work that detail into it) If you give me an assignment in the comments section I will post the outcome in my next blog.
Saturday, February 19, 2011
Week 10
I believe in my lackadaisical/overworked/confused state this is in reality week 11 for us, we have never been that good with time in regards to passing of the moons. Ask anybody and they will tell you we have been dating for eight years, because that is what we have been telling everyone for the last two and a half years. I think we actually just caught up with our actual eight year anniversary. It is our own fault in trying to celebrate based on the Lunar New Year, one year it is in January the next February, is it a rabbit or is it a tiger anniversary?
This last week was amazing, we did practically nothing, but we did it on the same work schedule. Our schedules aren't completely in sync but that is for the best as regards to our tiny hot water heater trying to supply showers for two, which is four times the amount it can deliver in one go. Previously our days together were spent kissing one another good morning, goodbye, hello, and goodnight. Now we have time for smooches, regarding 'that was a nice walk', 'what a nice day', or one of my favorites 'I am actually coherent enough to know what you are talking about' so here is a kiss.
I have been on and off with a cold for the last two weeks, one of those annoying ones that just gets you sick enough that you feel like the crud on the bottom of a boot by the end of the day but the morning brings false hope of recovery. Steph's immune system (knock on wood) has been sturdy and the only nicks in its defenses has been allergies, something we were hoping would be alleviated here as our previous forays into Mexico had abolished nasal irritations.
We both ended up with two days off in a row this week, which didn't line up with each other, because of a Mexican holiday we were owed. Like icicles after a long freeze it felt good to shed some of that extra weight and let ourselves melt a little. This job builds a shell around you, it works you to the bone. But it is also fantastic in that it is easy, everyday is challenging in regards that you are an actor on stage for 56 hours a week. You act to everyone, customers, coworkers, managers and so on but those hours fly, they soar. I get to the end of Tuesday and often am psyched that I only have four days left to my week. This island allows you to cultivate the time you have off and treat it like taffy. You can pull it, stretch it, and fold it back over on itself. The only time you regret it is when you realize you didn't take full advantage of it. More importantly the masks you wear at work never stop the beauty of Cozumel from coming in, they just block the people who try to make you forget about it. And don't get me wrong, we work with a lot of people who wear much brighter and beautiful masks than us and we spend a lot of our time looking each other in the eye garnished with knowing winks.
Speaking of masks it is Carnaval in this neck of the woods, it aint no Rio, but last Sunday I went to the square to see the first performances, a kind of sneak peak.
This last week was amazing, we did practically nothing, but we did it on the same work schedule. Our schedules aren't completely in sync but that is for the best as regards to our tiny hot water heater trying to supply showers for two, which is four times the amount it can deliver in one go. Previously our days together were spent kissing one another good morning, goodbye, hello, and goodnight. Now we have time for smooches, regarding 'that was a nice walk', 'what a nice day', or one of my favorites 'I am actually coherent enough to know what you are talking about' so here is a kiss.
I have been on and off with a cold for the last two weeks, one of those annoying ones that just gets you sick enough that you feel like the crud on the bottom of a boot by the end of the day but the morning brings false hope of recovery. Steph's immune system (knock on wood) has been sturdy and the only nicks in its defenses has been allergies, something we were hoping would be alleviated here as our previous forays into Mexico had abolished nasal irritations.
We both ended up with two days off in a row this week, which didn't line up with each other, because of a Mexican holiday we were owed. Like icicles after a long freeze it felt good to shed some of that extra weight and let ourselves melt a little. This job builds a shell around you, it works you to the bone. But it is also fantastic in that it is easy, everyday is challenging in regards that you are an actor on stage for 56 hours a week. You act to everyone, customers, coworkers, managers and so on but those hours fly, they soar. I get to the end of Tuesday and often am psyched that I only have four days left to my week. This island allows you to cultivate the time you have off and treat it like taffy. You can pull it, stretch it, and fold it back over on itself. The only time you regret it is when you realize you didn't take full advantage of it. More importantly the masks you wear at work never stop the beauty of Cozumel from coming in, they just block the people who try to make you forget about it. And don't get me wrong, we work with a lot of people who wear much brighter and beautiful masks than us and we spend a lot of our time looking each other in the eye garnished with knowing winks.
Speaking of masks it is Carnaval in this neck of the woods, it aint no Rio, but last Sunday I went to the square to see the first performances, a kind of sneak peak.
Thursday, February 10, 2011
Week 9
Shrimp scampi with risotto and sauteed zucchini with leeks, chicken and tomatoes over penne with a mushroom sauce, sauteed calamari and potatoes in a Mediterranean tomato sauce. This has been our menu for the last three nights, I am especially proud of it in that my stove is a hot plate with one temperature, hot. My kitchen knifes have found a substitute, my pocket knife. My cutting board is a plastic plate, and I only have one large spoon that acts as every handled implement one would normally reach for in the progression of raw ingredients to a finished meal. I could change all of this in a brief trip to the market, but I am not going to. I have no reason to, honestly these are some of the best half hour meals I have produced, ever. My limitations in preparation and cooking have made me hone my sights on flavor in the supermarket and timing in the kitchen. Through my limitations I have learned to make individual flavors sing yet marry everything else found on the plate. Additionally my wallet has only released on average $8 a day for the two of us.
A day off, a wonderful day off finally found us on Sunday. Everyday we have had off together wounded hand or no has been cloudy and cold enough to think twice about going for a dip. This Sunday did an about face and mustered up all of its regiments of sun, warmth, sandy beaches and transportation. Our access to the ocean, though we live one block from it, is actually quite limited. Sure we could set up a towel on the main road and dodge fishing boats, local ferries, and behemoth cruise ships but that scenario errs on the side of a miserable time. What we needed was a vehicle and one came in the friendship of a coworker, Moises. Moises owns not just a car but a big old cadillac. After a quick trip to the super market for cervesas, rotisserie chicken, tortillas and salsa fresca, we found ourselves cruising to the wild side of the island.
The eastern shore is beautiful, it is dotted with tourist and local traps alike but it also has the remarkable bends in the road where one wouldn't know modern civilization set foot upon this island since the Mayans were here. The geology was scrubbed clean in 2005 by hurricane Wilma leaving petite palm trees and fallen cement lifeguard towers along the shoreline. The rocks were frightful, the eroded limestone structures looked liked human sized cheese graters, though the local families and the teetering toddlers made me look like an 90 year old man trying to find footing on a escalator.
I brought my goggles and found amazing fish but the most remarkable aspect was the sea and the sky. If Picasso lived here his blue period would have been completely different. Between the sea and the sky the blue takes hold over the landscape and is only cut through by the white beaches, rocks, and reflection of the sun across the surf.
Moises delivered on the following Sunday with a trip to a great snorkeling site. The snorkeling here is incredible and has me begging for the SCUBA experience. We found ourselves at a somewhat tourist/local location that as a US American I was expecting the landscape and wildlife to be a spoiled by the constant transients ruining what is natural. The truth is that when my toes hit the shore line I could have gone limp fallen straight down and when I opened my eyes aquatic life would be there to dazzle me. Two inches from shore small fish were picking off the scraps from land, 12 inches small barracuda were waiting for the petite fish to break from their schools. A few kicks with the flippers we found ourselves in a forest of purple sea fans. From there we become the stalkers of whatever fish entertains us the most, and the tens of thousands of them all have a show to put on. The queen trigger fish was the most imaginative swimmer while the multiple species of grunts and their curiosity of ourselves lent us the constant puppyish enjoyment of scampering away whenever within reach. I found crabs, sea urchins, fish making nests by picking up rocks in their mouths and carrying them great distances, and scuba divers. The most fascinating aquatic spectacles were the fish who changed color. I found these fish who I thought were puffer fish because of there bulbous heads and their diminutive tails, but when I descended to hopefully put a fright into them instead of puffing they changed from tan with black spots to azure with black spots. And they were not the only ones, I found species of parrot fish also displaying the same characteristics. I can probably go on forever but for now I promise you I will get a cheap underwater camera so pictures can replace my thousands of words.
A day off, a wonderful day off finally found us on Sunday. Everyday we have had off together wounded hand or no has been cloudy and cold enough to think twice about going for a dip. This Sunday did an about face and mustered up all of its regiments of sun, warmth, sandy beaches and transportation. Our access to the ocean, though we live one block from it, is actually quite limited. Sure we could set up a towel on the main road and dodge fishing boats, local ferries, and behemoth cruise ships but that scenario errs on the side of a miserable time. What we needed was a vehicle and one came in the friendship of a coworker, Moises. Moises owns not just a car but a big old cadillac. After a quick trip to the super market for cervesas, rotisserie chicken, tortillas and salsa fresca, we found ourselves cruising to the wild side of the island.
The eastern shore is beautiful, it is dotted with tourist and local traps alike but it also has the remarkable bends in the road where one wouldn't know modern civilization set foot upon this island since the Mayans were here. The geology was scrubbed clean in 2005 by hurricane Wilma leaving petite palm trees and fallen cement lifeguard towers along the shoreline. The rocks were frightful, the eroded limestone structures looked liked human sized cheese graters, though the local families and the teetering toddlers made me look like an 90 year old man trying to find footing on a escalator.
I brought my goggles and found amazing fish but the most remarkable aspect was the sea and the sky. If Picasso lived here his blue period would have been completely different. Between the sea and the sky the blue takes hold over the landscape and is only cut through by the white beaches, rocks, and reflection of the sun across the surf.
Moises delivered on the following Sunday with a trip to a great snorkeling site. The snorkeling here is incredible and has me begging for the SCUBA experience. We found ourselves at a somewhat tourist/local location that as a US American I was expecting the landscape and wildlife to be a spoiled by the constant transients ruining what is natural. The truth is that when my toes hit the shore line I could have gone limp fallen straight down and when I opened my eyes aquatic life would be there to dazzle me. Two inches from shore small fish were picking off the scraps from land, 12 inches small barracuda were waiting for the petite fish to break from their schools. A few kicks with the flippers we found ourselves in a forest of purple sea fans. From there we become the stalkers of whatever fish entertains us the most, and the tens of thousands of them all have a show to put on. The queen trigger fish was the most imaginative swimmer while the multiple species of grunts and their curiosity of ourselves lent us the constant puppyish enjoyment of scampering away whenever within reach. I found crabs, sea urchins, fish making nests by picking up rocks in their mouths and carrying them great distances, and scuba divers. The most fascinating aquatic spectacles were the fish who changed color. I found these fish who I thought were puffer fish because of there bulbous heads and their diminutive tails, but when I descended to hopefully put a fright into them instead of puffing they changed from tan with black spots to azure with black spots. And they were not the only ones, I found species of parrot fish also displaying the same characteristics. I can probably go on forever but for now I promise you I will get a cheap underwater camera so pictures can replace my thousands of words.
Monday, January 24, 2011
Week 7 and Most of 8
I apologize for this post's tardiness, I have been trying to retire early to bed and I tend not to write while I am with Steph. Stephanie has been home for the last week and a half as a result of her encounter with our front gate. She returned to work on Wednesday and seems to be managing with arrested digits, I think she has the hardest time with concerns of what her customers think might be wrong with her. People have the oddest preconceptions about the sterility, health, and well being of the people living in Mexico. Parts of downtown Portland are dirtier than anything I have encountered here in Cozumel. Her finger and palm has avoided infection nicely and she removed her stitches on Tuesday, something I am a little bummed I was not in attendance for, I would have liked to pull a thread myself as I have never had stitches.
The dual posting of this blog is also a direct result in the fact that I have not had a respite from work for the previous thirteen days. I have reached the point of where it is questionable if my mind is following my body or the reverse is true. The days were full of up and downs, rain clouds followed us around last week and I was once again let down by the lack of thunderclaps in this tropical climate. It is what I thought would be one of the additional perks on our adventure down here, tropical rain equals lightning, Zeus has let me down.
The rain cloud followed me into work and last weeks sales were miserable, this week though the sun showed its face and as the fog evaporated sales seemed to condense to my being. On Wednesday I made more in commissions in four hours than a two week pay period at my previous job could produce. It makes being here that much more enjoyable knowing that a job well done is achievable while being able to bask in paradise. My extended work schedule has been arduous and my mental capacities to put black pixels on white screen have been drained, I have been using the islands resources for contemplation and looking inward to think about what to put in these paragraphs. For it was only friday I floated in the ocean for an hour and a half contemplating this very posting.
The most pleasing of the creature comforts that has transpired from my last posting is that I have my computer up and running again. In Portland my computer screen was my television, my parents inherited that and my hard drive came with us. All of my internet connectivity has been through my iPad and has served me well to an extent. After my profitable day last week my first order of business was to buy a new computer screen. Though it is not as large as my previous screen it more than fits the bill, I bought something inexpensive, light and portable so I should be able to transport it to Alaska without incident. And those reading this blog will also benefit with pictorial representations of some of the beauty I find with the relief of not having to read a thousand words.
(Aaaah the internet has been down sense Saturday!!!)
I will wrap this blog up as I am afraid at this point I will not get this post up until next week.
The dual posting of this blog is also a direct result in the fact that I have not had a respite from work for the previous thirteen days. I have reached the point of where it is questionable if my mind is following my body or the reverse is true. The days were full of up and downs, rain clouds followed us around last week and I was once again let down by the lack of thunderclaps in this tropical climate. It is what I thought would be one of the additional perks on our adventure down here, tropical rain equals lightning, Zeus has let me down.
The rain cloud followed me into work and last weeks sales were miserable, this week though the sun showed its face and as the fog evaporated sales seemed to condense to my being. On Wednesday I made more in commissions in four hours than a two week pay period at my previous job could produce. It makes being here that much more enjoyable knowing that a job well done is achievable while being able to bask in paradise. My extended work schedule has been arduous and my mental capacities to put black pixels on white screen have been drained, I have been using the islands resources for contemplation and looking inward to think about what to put in these paragraphs. For it was only friday I floated in the ocean for an hour and a half contemplating this very posting.
The most pleasing of the creature comforts that has transpired from my last posting is that I have my computer up and running again. In Portland my computer screen was my television, my parents inherited that and my hard drive came with us. All of my internet connectivity has been through my iPad and has served me well to an extent. After my profitable day last week my first order of business was to buy a new computer screen. Though it is not as large as my previous screen it more than fits the bill, I bought something inexpensive, light and portable so I should be able to transport it to Alaska without incident. And those reading this blog will also benefit with pictorial representations of some of the beauty I find with the relief of not having to read a thousand words.
(Aaaah the internet has been down sense Saturday!!!)
I will wrap this blog up as I am afraid at this point I will not get this post up until next week.
Monday, January 10, 2011
Week 6
What transpired last night trumps the previous seven days in such a magnificent way that it wiped my slate clean. Unfortunately I believe my slate had some entertaining things inscribed upon it, but the raw torn flesh of Stephanie's finger white washed it away.
Let's step back from the dramatic. We were invited to a nice party at a very European bar over looking a very Caribbean ocean. The party started at ten which was about two hours past our bedtime for the entire previous week, both of us had been up or restless for the last seventeen hours. Steph wanted to leave around eleven-thirty and I was, as always, still interested in being embroiled in one-upsman-ship, pointless, flirtatious, poignant, political and such conversations that revolve around a party. She departed and I found myself at the only table where ladies were sitting, it honestly was the only chair open in the entire bar. After striking up a conversation with the the only blond, blue eyed, Israelie I have ever met Steph showed back up. My first thoughts were "Great, why couldn't my open chair have been found next to Ari, Devir, Ronen, Uvlav, another Ronen, Sagi, or Pedro?" I quickly saw in the washed out expression on Steph's face and knew something was amiss.
On her initial departure from the party Steph found herself staring at our front gate of our apartment with no keys to receive entry. Her immediate decision was to climb the fence. Honestly this is a problem that has plagued our household for years now. The two of us leave our domicile as one and return as two. The both of us have been trespassing, breaking and entering in our own homes, more times than we can add on our digits combined. Unfortunately Steph didn't make it through this challenge unharmed. I still don't have the full account of what transpired between her and that gate but it is obvious the gate won in their dispute, and one of her digits was mauled.
After a very attentive and concerned taxi driver made her get in his cab as to abscond me to make flight to the nearest urgent care, Steph was the recipient of two new stitches.
I think the doctor was younger than I by four years, and his vibrating hands made me sit down to collect my wit out of the ethereal fog that came crashing down around me. I believe it was the same fog that I watched said doctor inject directly in to Steph's flayed finger multiple times. It looked like a chef trying to inject brine into a raw, torn chicken thigh so it would not dry out during roasting.
Today she is on the mend, I think she will be fine in a weeks time. There is going to be a gnarly scar but it will just add to our story of how we up and moved to Mexico.
Oh yeah one of the details that wasn't completely erased from my brain. On the way home I saw an entire trunk full of assorted Mexican wrestling masks being unloaded. Literally a car trunk full, there must have been at least five hundred Mexican wrestlers staring at me.
Let's step back from the dramatic. We were invited to a nice party at a very European bar over looking a very Caribbean ocean. The party started at ten which was about two hours past our bedtime for the entire previous week, both of us had been up or restless for the last seventeen hours. Steph wanted to leave around eleven-thirty and I was, as always, still interested in being embroiled in one-upsman-ship, pointless, flirtatious, poignant, political and such conversations that revolve around a party. She departed and I found myself at the only table where ladies were sitting, it honestly was the only chair open in the entire bar. After striking up a conversation with the the only blond, blue eyed, Israelie I have ever met Steph showed back up. My first thoughts were "Great, why couldn't my open chair have been found next to Ari, Devir, Ronen, Uvlav, another Ronen, Sagi, or Pedro?" I quickly saw in the washed out expression on Steph's face and knew something was amiss.
On her initial departure from the party Steph found herself staring at our front gate of our apartment with no keys to receive entry. Her immediate decision was to climb the fence. Honestly this is a problem that has plagued our household for years now. The two of us leave our domicile as one and return as two. The both of us have been trespassing, breaking and entering in our own homes, more times than we can add on our digits combined. Unfortunately Steph didn't make it through this challenge unharmed. I still don't have the full account of what transpired between her and that gate but it is obvious the gate won in their dispute, and one of her digits was mauled.
After a very attentive and concerned taxi driver made her get in his cab as to abscond me to make flight to the nearest urgent care, Steph was the recipient of two new stitches.
I think the doctor was younger than I by four years, and his vibrating hands made me sit down to collect my wit out of the ethereal fog that came crashing down around me. I believe it was the same fog that I watched said doctor inject directly in to Steph's flayed finger multiple times. It looked like a chef trying to inject brine into a raw, torn chicken thigh so it would not dry out during roasting.
Today she is on the mend, I think she will be fine in a weeks time. There is going to be a gnarly scar but it will just add to our story of how we up and moved to Mexico.
Oh yeah one of the details that wasn't completely erased from my brain. On the way home I saw an entire trunk full of assorted Mexican wrestling masks being unloaded. Literally a car trunk full, there must have been at least five hundred Mexican wrestlers staring at me.
Tuesday, January 4, 2011
Week 5
I am taking the advice of my mother and brother, I am making this a weekly blog. For two reasons this makes sense, one being that I can't write coherent sentences after work, and two being if I sat every night to put my thoughts down day after day my blog would become accounts of annoying customers and what time I went to sleep. A seven day recap should be a more intriguing read. I hope...
Week two-ish of work has been about the same as week one-ish, my schedule is consistent in that it fluctuates between morning and evening shifts, or more accurately early morning and morning. I have now worked both and the early morning is far superior. As I write this my visage is in the dappled light of a giant lime tree that has a beautiful cluster of orchids in the hollow of a long lost limb. You, as the reader do not know this but I am going to have to recess as a bounty of fish, tortillas, chicken soup, with chips and salsa is being spread before me. Sadly Steph and I are not playing footsie, we have been dealt a hand where our schedules do not coincide. In fact today I got home from work as she was leaving for the day. We will be talking to HR about it shortly, we moved knowing home is where the heart is and our hearts can't be in orbit around our schedules hoping for collisions.
I am back, it was delicious. We had our first rain on Thursday, even though I got caught walking home in it I enjoyed it to some extent. It was the first rain I felt in over a month, it felt good in that it was a hard, real, rain which I had not been caught in for an indisguindishable amount of time. The only thing at all vexing about it was my worry over losing the creases in my pants, and Steph worrying over my soggy condition when I got home. The precipitous weather is so ineffectual on my psyche as compared to Portland it confirms many of my decisions to move down here. I had all but forgotten that the skies had been dark when the next morning I found two of the island's Scottish Terriers playing in the surf on my way to work. I know my mother is reading this not believing the words I just wrote, but yes two Scottish Terriers playing fetch in the ocean.
The sun is setting now, it as beautiful as ever but it always disorients me. From our apartment I can look at the sea, and looking on a map it looks like the sea is directly west, but we are on an ever so gradual outcropping of the island. My East Portland/ Oregonian ingrained compass tells me if my toes are touching a body of water the sun is going to set somewhere in front of me. I have developed the unfortunate habit of wandering in the wrong direction here, Steph usually trusts me to know where I am going but the sun sets in my compass' south. So I find myself circling blocks as I amble about, luckily San Miguel is small and I don't ever actually get lost, just tardy.
My personal categorization of ecology has also changed, the vulture has replaced the crow, the melodious black bird stands in place of the starling, skinks and geckos are substituting the common house spider, and pigeons are pigeons. I can't figure out what the pelican has replaced but they crack me up as they take lumbering dives into the ocean. Compared to the other sea birds they look like they are doing belly flops, but they often pop up rewarded with fresh sashimi. My other favorite comical avian that I happen along frequently is the sandpiper, they are the Prefontaine of birds. On my early morning commutes I will happen upon a flock in the middle of the street and they will run ahead of me for up to a block before they realize they have the ability of flight. It is absurd to watch them work their tiny legs trying to keep pace ahead of me like I am a tidal wave only for them to lift off the ground and find themselves out of harms way with flutter of their wings.
As we start to relax out of our little macroville I can't wait to happen upon iguanas, boas, and other large creatures that the Caribbean has to offer. Speaking of which, I recently learned that one of my friends, and coworkers, is a certified instructor of scuba and her boyfriend runs a local dive shop. So we will be partaking in some good discount dive opportunities as soon as our commission pay checks come in. Steph will need a little bit of coaxing but I am sure that as soon as she is face to face with a sea turtle she will transform into a mermaid every opportunity she gets.
Week two-ish of work has been about the same as week one-ish, my schedule is consistent in that it fluctuates between morning and evening shifts, or more accurately early morning and morning. I have now worked both and the early morning is far superior. As I write this my visage is in the dappled light of a giant lime tree that has a beautiful cluster of orchids in the hollow of a long lost limb. You, as the reader do not know this but I am going to have to recess as a bounty of fish, tortillas, chicken soup, with chips and salsa is being spread before me. Sadly Steph and I are not playing footsie, we have been dealt a hand where our schedules do not coincide. In fact today I got home from work as she was leaving for the day. We will be talking to HR about it shortly, we moved knowing home is where the heart is and our hearts can't be in orbit around our schedules hoping for collisions.
I am back, it was delicious. We had our first rain on Thursday, even though I got caught walking home in it I enjoyed it to some extent. It was the first rain I felt in over a month, it felt good in that it was a hard, real, rain which I had not been caught in for an indisguindishable amount of time. The only thing at all vexing about it was my worry over losing the creases in my pants, and Steph worrying over my soggy condition when I got home. The precipitous weather is so ineffectual on my psyche as compared to Portland it confirms many of my decisions to move down here. I had all but forgotten that the skies had been dark when the next morning I found two of the island's Scottish Terriers playing in the surf on my way to work. I know my mother is reading this not believing the words I just wrote, but yes two Scottish Terriers playing fetch in the ocean.
The sun is setting now, it as beautiful as ever but it always disorients me. From our apartment I can look at the sea, and looking on a map it looks like the sea is directly west, but we are on an ever so gradual outcropping of the island. My East Portland/ Oregonian ingrained compass tells me if my toes are touching a body of water the sun is going to set somewhere in front of me. I have developed the unfortunate habit of wandering in the wrong direction here, Steph usually trusts me to know where I am going but the sun sets in my compass' south. So I find myself circling blocks as I amble about, luckily San Miguel is small and I don't ever actually get lost, just tardy.
My personal categorization of ecology has also changed, the vulture has replaced the crow, the melodious black bird stands in place of the starling, skinks and geckos are substituting the common house spider, and pigeons are pigeons. I can't figure out what the pelican has replaced but they crack me up as they take lumbering dives into the ocean. Compared to the other sea birds they look like they are doing belly flops, but they often pop up rewarded with fresh sashimi. My other favorite comical avian that I happen along frequently is the sandpiper, they are the Prefontaine of birds. On my early morning commutes I will happen upon a flock in the middle of the street and they will run ahead of me for up to a block before they realize they have the ability of flight. It is absurd to watch them work their tiny legs trying to keep pace ahead of me like I am a tidal wave only for them to lift off the ground and find themselves out of harms way with flutter of their wings.
As we start to relax out of our little macroville I can't wait to happen upon iguanas, boas, and other large creatures that the Caribbean has to offer. Speaking of which, I recently learned that one of my friends, and coworkers, is a certified instructor of scuba and her boyfriend runs a local dive shop. So we will be partaking in some good discount dive opportunities as soon as our commission pay checks come in. Steph will need a little bit of coaxing but I am sure that as soon as she is face to face with a sea turtle she will transform into a mermaid every opportunity she gets.
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