frogs.

So it's really tropical here. I had forgotten. And in the middle of summer to boot. Quite a shock to come from a cold dry New Mexican wintery wonderland where I wore wool socks every day and night.

My garden doubled in size, vines growing all up in each other such that it will take one very large morning to sort through through it all. Maybe two large mornings. I haven't had the energy yet, still getting my Fiji legs back.

At night I have been taking my mattress off the bed and putting it onto the floor so that I can feel the breeze from the cracks beneath my misfitting doors. I did this last year, but what is new this year is waking up to frogs jumping on me. They usually don't make it over me, but they sure try. This summer it is a lot rainier and walking down the road around my village I have been noticing miniature frogs, smaller than crickets, jumping out of my way. They. are. everywhere.

You know, as a kid, I loved frogs. I had a big poster full of beautiful poison dart frogs splashed in different neon colors. Driving home sometimes we saw toads hopping across the road after a rain. My mom would stop the car and I would hop out, scoop them up and place them beside the road. They were always these special, mysterious, reverent little creatures to me.

I remember my first dinner in my host village I was shocked to see a frog hop across the floor with neither mention nor regard from my host family. Did they not see this frog? They did, they didn't care, how strange. After slowly getting used to that, one night I saw my little host brother kick a frog across the living room like a soccer ball.

And now. I not only have frogs hopping around my house, having to clean up frog poop twice a day, but I also have them hopping on me at night. And when I see a frog, it is like seeing a grounder in baseball. I dive on it and throw it out of the door in one swift motion (my neighbors once laughed at the sight of frogs flying out of my house, but they are used to it now).

* I meant to say in the last post how much I loved seeing all my fam/friends while I was home. What a wonderful blanket of comfort and happiness and warmth that was. I had such a great time. Love you all! SO MUCH!

America is still here!

I've been home for the holidays, which has been wonderful, and a bit confusing, but overall wonderful.

I walked into my house after 1.5 yrs and the first thing I saw was Rocky, the family cat, who could have eaten my scrawny Fiji cat for a light snack. Actually all the cats looked distorted, like someone had come up to them, grabbed their furry cheeks and pulled them outward. I thought they were sick, and was genuinely concerned, until I realized that it was me who was projecting the distortion, so used to seeing only undernourished, mangy pets running about.

Also, lots of buttons here. For coffee, radio, cars, ovens, microwaves, ice. I don't have to tell anyone that. But man, I have a new appreciation for all of them. The first few days I walked around the house asking if anyone needed to do laundry. I wanted to be the one to press the button, and having been home only for a few days, I hadn't amassed enough dirty clothes for my own load. What a trip. And how easy it is to forget you have started! The clothes just sit there quietly in the washer, waiting to be moved to the dryer, and then just sit quietly in the dryer, waiting to be folded and put away. This is quite different than going to wash dishes and realizing crap the clothes are still soaking in the sink and then scrubbing them and hanging them before you can start the dishes. And then, as night settles in, hearing nana outside reminding you to bring in the clothes off the line because, as she has explained to you in the past, the night wind brings scabies.

People go really fast here, and don't like to wait. And being slow-paced to begin with, it has only gotten worse for me. Hell, I remember one night in Fiji I finished up dinner and just settled into the night, sitting in my chair, watching ants run across my table. It was mesmerizing, how they were individually so erratic but collectively so static. I watched, watched, and maybe read a little bit and bam, time for bed.

Driving. So, I now drive very, very slowly. Maybe because of the whole island time thing, maybe because I don't have a job or appointments I'm rushing to because I'm on VACATION. Also, when I see construction zones, I get excited instead of frustrated because my goodness, there is an active, healthy, organized push toward improved infrastructure. It is incredible.

Grocery stores are so spread out, bright, calm, and plentiful. Especially the produce section. It is less personal, for sure, which makes me miss my jam lady and my onion guy who always offers me a cup of grog after I buy something from him. But it is relaxing to not be constantly watched while you buy things, like, oh look, the white girl is buying mint, let's ask her about it along with why she is in Fiji, what her name is, and where she lives.

Eggs here do not have to undergo the float test. They are always good. And furthermore, since they are constantly refrigerated, the yokes never break when cracked into a pan. Amazing.

I don't have to constantly check expiration dates. Things are so rarely expired.

Pants, pants, pants. The freedom to move your limbs! How fun.

Snacks in America are unparalleled.

The air here. So dry, but crisp and smelling of familiar trees and grasses I have missed. I breathe more consciously. My first breath of New Mexico air was unbelievable, and I might have shouted and hollered a bit, overcome with joy. I hadn't noticed it before, but I noticed it then, how unique and wonderful and clean and fragrant the air is here.

Sometimes conversations here are hard to contribute to. It's like trying to go on a bike ride with friends, and wanting to keep up and notice the things they are noticing along the road, but for some reason, you were given an uncouth pony to ride, and the pony stops at random places along the path to smell flowers and look at random things so you are way behind, all the time. Like, the other day a conversation about refrigerator organization ostracized me, because what am I to say? Am I really supposed to reroute every topic? I could say, well, I don't have a refrigerator. But I still buy things that need refrigeration, sometimes, like cheese, and I make my own refrigerator by putting the cheese in a bowl partially filled with water in the coolest corner of my bamboo house and hoping the night cools off enough to not turn it into a breeding ground for bacteria. No one cares, and a comment like that just makes me 'that girl', and it would get a "hm" and a change in topic. Not always, but a lot of the time.

I guess now that my foot fungus is gone, along with my tan, maybe it's time to go back to Fiji and finish this thing out. What a comfort to be home, and it's silly, but sometimes in the depths of this experience I doubted America still existed, so entrenched in differences and so removed from everything I knew. But it does exist. America is still here!