Is it July negative first or is it July zeroth? It certainly isn’t June 30th. Either way, tomorrow is supposed to be the start of the two hottest months down here (weird, I thought it was going to be winter in this hemisphere), which is turning out to be complete mularky. I’m looking at the forecast right now, and it’s 90 today, going down to highs of 87-87-87-86-87 over the next five. Either global warming is a myth like non-assless chaps or seasons don’t act like clockwork just because a human-made calendar decides to change the name of a timeframe. I’m leaning towards the former, and buying a goose-down jacket. Off to things:
– Okay, I am beached out. Besides the fact that my post-sunburn moulting (you’re welcome) is starting to make my shoulders look like a dalmation, I need to find a change of scenery and activity this weekend. Which is why I have decided to move back to Bos- Just kidding. I’m going to Bonao, which is here. Don’t let the number of streets fool you, just zoom out to see it to scale. It’s small, but I’m not there for the ecstasy-fueled raves. I’m headed up for some outdoor peril via Rancho Wendy. The plan is to do the ‘Killer Hike’ and the ‘UpRiver Hiking Adventure’ this weekend, and if I have a good experience come back to this place in November for my Pico Duarte adventure (5 days with pack mules). It’s going to be nice getting out of the city, having silence, sleeping with gorillas, fending off swarms of 3 inch mosquitos, and being surrounded by the most nature since I went camping in Glacier National Park in August. This will be an excellent opportunity to try out my 5-Finger shoes for hiking, so I’ll keep you posted on how that turns out. Man, I am so granola, leaving the city to go hiking with funny shoes that are supposed to connect me with nature and my neanderthal spirit. I’m also bringing feaux-Nature Valley bars because I hate corporations and I can’t find Blueberry
Crack Crisp Clif Bars here. Just to offset my charm, I’m off to buy a completely wasteful plastic-encased disposable waterproof camera. I hope it chokes a sea gull when I’m done with it.
– Until the food stops being so good to me, you will keep reading about the great time I have destroying it. I tried some homemade hot chocolate this morning, and it was “like nothing I’ve ever tasted”, as my host warned me. I had no idea Dominicans could even think of drinking anything off of the stove, but it makes Land-O-Lakes taste like gunpowder in comparison. I don’t know whether it was nutmeg or dominican sugar or the nectar of gods, but I have hired an investigative journalist out to find out. As soon as I do, I’ll put the recipe out there.
Also, even though I’ve been consistently running on 5-6.5 hours of sleep, I haven’t really hit a wall nor wanted to stay in bed past 9am on the weekends. During the week, I think it’s the coffee I’m drinking, which I have indicated is the best I’ve had. It’s got to be triple-brewed and infused with the blood of the only correctly diagnosed ADHD child in America because it keeps me going well past dusk. On the weekends, it’s probably the temperature jumping really early, causing an uncomfortable environment to remain cuddled up. Again, the energy could be a combination of the diet as well, which is more natural and includes more fruit and carbohydrates – or something. LAY OFF ME, I’M STARVING
– I went to a merengue jazz / son cubano concert last night, which was mucho enjoyable. The instruments were guitar, standup bass, congos (and cowbell!), drum set, keyboard, and a utility player (he played two saxophones, clarinet, flute, vocals, and maracas – at separate times). Going to jazz clubs has always been a great experience, especially with Wally’s in Boston and The Spotted Cat in New Orleans, but this was something else. I have a few videos that I’ll upload when I get the chance, so you’ll get to share in the glory. Next Wednesday the “Best Saxophonist in Hispaniola” is coming to that place, and I’ll be there covering it.
– The dogs are playing well together, the puppy is still cute, blah blah belch. The little kitten is kind of a pain in the @, however. It is afraid of heights and hates everything like all cats, yet has an insatiable urge to climb and pester people all the same. This morning was the third time I’ve had to put on my fireman costume and get it down from the stairs or the vineyard covering on my patio, as it wouldn’t stop crying that it was too high to jump and didn’t want to waste a life because it would need two on the next level. This time it decided to thank me by clawing at my torso as I gently led it to release it’s death grip from the grape vine – so I tossed it. Cats are terrible people, so next time I’m letting it find its own way down, regardless of how much its mother cries and moans for someone to save it (and I’m talking about the real mother of the cat, not my host). Also, I have to keep calling it ‘it’ because it won’t let anyone get close enough to check its sex, which is stupid. I’m going to start calling it a boy, and hope that it’s really a girl and gets offended.
– Here’s some guy’s advice I get in the electronic mailbox every day. He’s interesting. I’m not getting into the business of plugging stuff, just found that article cool.
– In related news, Maria Sharapova is dating Sasha Vujacic? Really? So you’re saying there’s a chance….
Reading: Not enough, that Travesía is going to take me a while
Listening: Enter the Wu-Tang (36 Chambers), Wu-Tang Clan
Learning: Vamos a Andar, Nude, Für Elise