Random Thoughts

I. After not being able to observe a thyroidectomy this morning (the patient was in a hypertensive crisis), I took a nap and then woke up thinking, "Well, I might as well go to the beach." My grandmother heard my plan and said, "I think I'll go too." So we ate lunch, my grandfather packed a cooler, my grandmother grabbed towels and we headed to the beach, where Abuela and I sat with our legs in the water and we talked, among other things, about how my grandmother's brothers and sisters are living a routine, they go to church, go home, sleep, eat, and do it all again, never finding time to go the beach or anything like that. And I thought to myself, "That's the way to be 87," Not that my grandparents don't have their routines-- on a usual weekday morning my grandfather is napping in the patio and my grandmother is sitting in her rocking chair, listening to some radio show. But every once in a while, they do something I don't expect, like invite themselves to the beach, bathing suits and all, or travel to Europe, Texas or wherever my mom happens to be, or take 4 days to stay at a parador out on the west coast of the island. That's one of the many things I love about them.

II. At Seven Seas in Fajardo (towards the Cabezas de San Juan side), you can find many things:
1. dried up seaweed that washes up onto your legs
2. mangrove trees
3. water that barely forms waves, but instead gently rolls in
4. plastic cups
5. pieces of broken bottles
6. bottle caps
7. grape-like fruit (?) that fall from the mangrove trees (we think)
8. on a good day, my granparents
9. about 10 big trash bins by the entry, lined up, and not very full

And any Puerto Rican will not take offense when I say that that's the problem with us as a people. We have beautiful, beautiful nature all around us. Places that people pay a lot of money to be able to come enjoy, and we just leave our trash everywhere to come in and out with the tide, even though the trash cans are about 10 feet away.

III. It's scary (or a little sad) when you've let so much time go by, that all of a sudden, your little sister is 6 inches taller than you, and looking like a woman.

home, sweet, home

I got back to Puerto Rico on Thursday night at 10 p.m. local time, on a flight that was supposed to arrive at 8:30 p.m. Once, around 45 minutes later, I had my bag in hand and got on the shuttle that was going to take me to where I rented my car, I was told that due to the rain, Enterprise (the place I made my reservation at) wasn't able to take credit cards, but they were taking us to National/Alamo so we could rent there and they'd cover the difference... About an hour later, I'm told the difference would be around $200. $200 I'd have to track down the Enterprise people to get... Home, sweet, home.
I finally started out for Fajardo close to midnight and was immediately reminded of just how much of Puerto Rican taxes go towards keeping the roads driveable (about 2 cents I'd guess).
1 a.m. ish I made it to my grandparents who were still up, worried. I passed out about 1:30ish knowing I'd have to go back to the airport the next day to return the car I rented to get me here...
Throughout the next morning, the rooster my cousin bought for cockfighting woke me up at regular intervals. I snoozed my ears, woke up again, snooze, up again, until finally hearing a little boy crying at 11 a.m. I decided no more sleep for me. I left the bedroom, kissed my cousin on the cheek and met her 2 year old, who immediately learned my name. Considering how many adults can't ever pronounce my name, I'm confident Pedrito is a child genius.
The sky was blue, the air was warm, my grandmother had already started on making pastelillos for me (yum!), and I thought, "home, sweet, home!"

Today was much the same. I saw an old friend who I hadn't seen in about 4 years and he was still the same little person inside. But unfortunately much of what he's doing is still exactly the same as he was in late high school and college, things which make the med student in me cringe. But I promised to turn a blind eye and not scold, because I was his friend before knowing how cigarettes make your lungs look and how daily copius alcohol makes your liver feel.

Oh! I'm being called inside for dinner. Pasteles! Not pies for those of you who might google it but something far more delicious.