Today is one of the last days I'll spend at Shayla's house. I'll be leaving a little sooner than previously planned. That's okay with me. I've learned a lot here about cooking, I've gotten some good yoga in, and I've gotten to meet some pretty cool people. All while saving a lot of money and having a pretty good time.
I thought I would've posted more blog entries while I was here but a decent amount of it was routine and so I haven't had a lot of "adventures" so to speak. But I figured I'd talk about a few of the things that I've done here for all six of my readers. Actually, there are a lot of you. THANKS!
I usually wake up around 8AM. Sometimes I sleep through my watch alarm because I sleep with earplugs in. I've learned that I either wear them or I get woken up sixty times a night by the sound of the street dogs arguing below. And when they're not barking, it's usually because someone is busy lighting off fireworks at six in the morning. This usually happens whenever there's a holiday. And there are a lot of holidays. And when that doesn't do it I usually hear Shayla scoot her walker across the floor in a lout BRRRRRAP! So... 8AM. Here we go.
I wake up, drag myself to the end of the bed and stumble out into bathroom to see what the pillow did to my face for eight hours. As soon as I crack my bedroom door the sharp smell of electricity zaps my nose. The smell is ozone gas (O3) and it's produced by a machine that converts the tank of oxygen gas downstairs into this substance that supposedly kills infectious invaders. Shayla and Maeve have a morning routine where they drink water purified by it's bubbles and blast giant plastic syringe-fulls of it into all available openings. Even Choco gets a treatment. The poor dog sits impatiently while humans spray hot air into his ears. I did some of these things for a while. But I'm not that convinced of the practicality of it and it's pretty awful stuff. Tastes terrible. So actually the title is a witty lie. I actually don't prefer the odor, to be honest. But it's kinda cool.
Next up is Choco. I take him for a lap around the block where, until I insisted on the leash, he would dart in front of taxis for ten minutes while I - the short and sandal wearing American chased him around. The purpose of this morning hike is to get him to leave a little something behind. But he rarely does. There's a lot I want to say about Choco. But don't worry, I'll have a whole chapter on him. Standby.
By this time I'm usually pretty hungry and it's time to boost the glucose levels. I think a giant breakfast smoothie is in order? Yes. Two bananas, one frozen, almond or cashew milk, fresh squeezed orange juice, a possible frozen berry cameo, chia seeds, cacao/honey/or some other healthy thing and BWIIIIIIIING! Turn that five hundred dollar blender on. Now that's a smoothie.
Any other day but Saturday I'm usually free to work on my Spanish skills, travel plans or play around on the computer as I wish. When I'm lucky, another human in the house gets motivated to do some yoga and I join in like a good little grasshopper. If it's sunny someone might get naked and soak up some rays in the courtyard. Hippies.
Lunch is also a smoothie. At first I really liked this. It was easy to make, good to eat and predictable. Now, towards the end, I kind of miss chewing things so much. But one thing's for sure - you don't have to poop as much. And that means that's probably one less time that you have to wipe your butt and throw your TP in a trashcan. Because they don't flush it around here. Not enough water pressure. That TP just sits in the trashcan staring at you as you try not to think about how disgusting that is. So anyway, I was talking about food. Mmmmm.
Shayla is a certified "foodie" and a good amount of time takes place in her kitchen. She's got great ingredients and spices from all over and prizes them like they were the last ones made. Friends and family visiting from the US generally sacrifice their checked baggage to smuggle all sorts of rarities found in the mythical aisles of the Whole Foods Temple. AHHHH! So if I don't have any other project to attend to - Or if I'm not aimlessly staring at the ants on the compost pile (a strange habit I've found myself doing) - I help out in the kitchen by prepping food. I cut things or wash things or move them from one container to another. It's not always exciting, but I am learning some healthy and delicious tricks.
While Saturday is the big Organic Farmer's Market day, trips to the regular market come up about once every two days and I get the opportunity to practice my Spanish searching for the right vegetables or chicken feet for Choco. I like the market. It's bustling. It's a hub. And it's totally old school. People just sit outside with all of their stuff, maybe a scale and they yell out their wares in a flat but sing songy worn out voice, "Papas y friJOles! Dos por VIENteeeeeee..." Over and over again. They don't pay attention to you until you have their stuff on their scale. And the produce is dirt cheap. Everything is dirt cheap here. I can't get over it.
Afternoon time is dinner prep time. More cutting and washing and dancing around Shayla's wheelie wheels of little piggy death. You gotta watch it. Dinner starts with a salad at six and the rest of the meal follows. Sometimes it's a stir fry and it's kind of cool to cook in between the actual eating. I kind of like that.
For dessert I generally fire up the vape and pop in some stand up comedy or a movie I rented from PirateBay.se. Smile if you know it. After Shayla hits the sack (usually pretty early), I beat the shit out of some green pigs on Angry Birds or Maeve and I take a walk to the Zocalo. Last night she forced me to dance so I embarrassed the hell out of her by acting like a complete goofball in the middle of the Halloween parade. I don't think she'll be doing that again. Man, I can swing those hips. That's right, ladies, that's how we do it in America.
If I can't sleep, I jump back on the computer and do my best to wring out my experiences or chattering brain cells onto the keyboard. Some of it makes it onto this blog. The rest remains for one more day; swaying and sloshing about until the next opportunity to make a break for it.
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