this weekend

I have no idea why I'm so excited about this weekend, but I am. Thrilled.

I'm going to Grand Isle, the only inhabited island in Louisiana (yeah, I have to cross a bloody bridge to get there), about as far south as civilization in Louisiana goes. It's right between the Gulf of Mexico (salt water) and Barataria Bay (fresh water), so the nature there is supposed to be incredible because of the estuary. It's apparently a huge fisherperson's paradise - and I'm not a big fishing fan, but when I saw some of the fish caught I was impressed. They have a a gazillion fish camps there that people rent out for a season or a week, and every lodging place has fish cleaning stations and outdoor cooking spaces.

But it's also a paradise for birders, so I'm going to the Migratory Bird Festival. I'll go on two birding excursions by foot and another by boat. And, there will be a mini-expo there and maybe I'll actually get some better binoculars. The ones I have now work ok, and they're nice and little, but they're limited.

I made a hotel reservation, after being told the campground there is just a big parking lot full of RVs. Yuck. So, in a hotel room I shall stay. That's easier ... plus this way I can actually do some work Friday evening. Ugh. And then I'll come back Saturday night, so I'll have all day Sunday to be productive.

Anyway, I'm way psyched about it and hope it meets my expectations. I haven't had an adventure since December. Mini-adventure visiting Kim in March, but that was Mobile suburbs so doesn't really count.

But until then ... guess I better hit the books. Sigh.

Gail and Shelton ... sitting in a tree ...

Yay! I just got Gail's wedding invitation - I hope I can make it, though I won't know for a while.

I like to say - I encouraged their relationship from the very beginning. I was "there" for the whole thing, before getting together, and all that, and after an extensive perusal of his blog, I declared Shelton to be Gail-worthy. And I was right! He was there with her until 3 am doing the wedding invitations. (Unlike another friend here, whose fiance wanted the big wedding but leaves everything up to her to do.) And he put up with my obnoxious mah jong moments, because I'm her friend.

Yay! Happy times!

no love for the Yankees

Before I moved here, I thought aversion of Yankees was some quaint antiquated notion that nobody, in this time of globalization and ever moving, took seriously. My first hint that it's not dead was Tami's mom, when I said I was hungry for chowder, giving me a look and saying, "Yankees eat chowder."

More evidence - just read of covenants in Georgia housing developments that forbid sale of land to Yankees (defined as a person who was born, or has lived fo rmore than one year, north of the Mason-Dixon line).

Oh my soul. I'll never be acceptable here.

frying plantains on a jetboil

So, I missed the chance for a cheap hotel room in Grand Isle this weekend because I didn't make reservations. The only ones I get info about now are over $100/night. And maybe I could somehow find that money - but I'm damn cheap.

There is, of course, the campground. I like to camp, I have all the gear I need. I even just did the little happy clap at the thought of using my jet boil to make coffee and breakfast.

Only worries: if I get forced to camp next to RVs. It'll be hot and they'll be running their A/Cs and it's SO obnoxious to be near that. Hot is another worry, and bugs - I hear the mosquitos there are HORRIBLE. Honestly, I don't know what I'm getting into - everything has been destroyed there so many times, most recently from Katrina. What if - what if there's no *gasp* shower?

Yeah, yeah, I'm such a baby. But I like to be clean when I spend a day out with people I don't know. It perks me up, gets me going. Without a shower I feel grungy all damn day.

OK, I'm thinking jet boil wins. And I still have plenty of camp food so I wouldn't even have to go out to eat. But I will. Because it's Louisiana.

I'm so damn excited about this weekend. Best part of camping? I can't really take my books and computer. Where would I study? That's rhetorical - I know Michele has electricity in her truck, but I don't and I'm keeping it that way. Yeah, it's just car camping, but it's still camping. We had SUCH a great time camping in the national forest last month, far away from the RVs and I just had wild land to look at and hear.

OH, that's my only real hold-up. The clean-up. I just finally got all my gear clean again, and now I want to camp on a freakin BEACH?! Sand and critters and all sorts of stuff that I won't want to store.

Sigh.

I'm doing it for the sunrise. And a break from law school, which I don't take nearly as seriously as plantains and frijoles. I can see me at job interviews, trying to explain why eating great Honduran food and chasing migratory birds (I won't really chase them - they're EXHAUSTED and need to be left alone) was more important that studying. Shrug. Who cares about those future career nay-sayers. I have a jet boil that NEEDS to be used. It cries out to me, pathetically beseeching attention. Who am I to refuse my darling jetboil?

Yup, I'm a gear puta.

buyer regret

Ever get home from the store and wonder, "What was I thinking?"

Yeah, me too.

I just realized I bought a cleavage-showing tunic with retro colors & big flowers on it.

OK, see, I actually remember when these things came around the first time. I have pics of me as a 5-year-old in my favorite jeans, with those same big flowers on 'em. I'm a flower child fo sho, but I usually keep it hidden deep inside.

Sigh. I guess everybody will see more of me now than ever before - and certainly more than they wanted.

frijole love

OK, I'm going to have to retitle this blog "Love Song to La Beraca" but bear with me.

Today I started with a baleada - which is a big, thick flour tortilla with mashed beans and then mine had "crema," cheese, and scrambled eggs. I'm not a big egg fan and it was all a little gooey, too dairy for me. The tortilla was awesome though.

Ay got my favorite - beans, tortillas de maiz, plantains, and salad. Not cabbage salad, though, so I didn't feel too bad for not getting that.

All these websites I see, they say you'll get filled up with three baleadas. Three? One was just about enough for me, but I couldn't leave without plantains.

I told our "fantastico" waitress (who responded to everything we said with "fantastico" when I was there with Ale, but it's not weird - she's just so friendly) (and she saw me coming way down the parking lot and greeted me out there - it's like Cheers!) that I wanted some plantains. She didn't believe me that I just wanted plantains, so I said ok, with crema, though I don't really eat much of that. Out they came in short order, with beans.

She was right - that's what I wanted. So, I got an order of corn tortillas and boxed that all up, and made two meals out of $6. Which probably is about how much it would cost me to cook it myself. And this way, I get all sorts of Spanish practice - the one who speaks English wasn't there so I had to speak Spanish, and it does flow out when I have to - though some French does get mixed in.

Next time, I'm trying the "enchiladas" which are like tostadas. And we all know, next time won't be too far away. Whole Foods is right there, and the other grocery stores, and the mall, and the Aveda clinic I go to, and Target and KMart - so now every errand I could take care of locally is going to get rerouted to La Beraca territory.

It's just - the food satisfies me completely - it's so tasty and so hearty. I'm sure it's not low-cal, but it doesn't trigger any blood sugar issues. The only other thing that I love this much is Liberian-style potato greens.

So, I don't have a freakin clue what I'm doing this summer, but I'm thinking it'll revolve around food. That law firm I sent my resume to last week, they're only a mile or so away from La Beraca. Things are looking good for my belly.

fantasy travel

Here's the fantasy:

Leave two days after my last final (one day to pack, the next to move all my stuff into storage); fly to Portland, spend time there with the Yamasakis and in Eugene with Susan, and see Lara & the fam, then fly up to Anchorage to see the Holt tribe & their garden & yurt (though I don't know ... Rohnan not liking chocolate and all), then down to SoCal to see Sabine & Jen & Michele (and M's new girlfriend), then over to Liberia for two month internship, then back to school.

Problems? Um, money. Don't have an internship in Liberia - and costs to fly to Africa have doubled of late. Where can I store my truck so it's safe in case of hurricane? And there's no way I could pack up everything in one day and move it all the next - though Ahmed is Super Mover. And I would delude myself to think that I would pack during finals - all I do is fixate on those damn tests. They're just my future, is all. Especially this term.

But hey, fantasies are fun. Now back to the grind ... with the bonus mid-day of La Beraca - I convinced Ay to join me there, since I have to go back to the mall anyway to get the damn anti-theft device removed.

preparations

We often laugh at Selma, because when she's getting ready to go to bed or for a long nap, she has to get situated just perfectly. Using teeth and paws, she can spend quite a bit of time getting her blankets, toys, mat, etc. just right. Sometimes she'll get it almost right, and then she'll step back and squint at it, let out a big sigh, and start all over.

The apple doesn't fall far from the tree. Here I am, settling in for a marathon Constitutional Law outlining session, and I have to get my nest just right. I cleaned and sanitized the kitchen after baking muffins, did preliminary laundry sorting, put things away, etc. etc. I'm forcing myself not to start mopping or rehanging the closet door rack.

So, I may not be using my teeth to move the blankets around, but it's all the same though I have the benefit of opposable thumbs.

And now, really, I start.

for the love of La Beraca

I'm a little embarrassed, and I'm sure they whisper over the grill, "Who's the gringa who keeps coming in? What's her problem?"

It's the plantains. And the tortillas. And the cabbage salad. And the beans.

Which is exactly what I ordered when I went there today. Going to La Beraca was the only thing that could force me to go clothes shopping, which I really needed to do. I got four errands out of the way, and the reward was a culinary vacation to Honduras.

It's soul food - it fills me up, satisfies me, and makes me feel healthy & hearty. The trick is to only eat small amounts; yesterday Alejandra and I ate everything and we were both far too sleepy. They serve enough for three meals.

Would it be wrong to find an apartment based on proximity to La Beraca? Screw school and work - I need me a home near those frijoles.

Of course they don't know me there - they don't know of the Templo marathons, of my stalking expertise. They also don't know that I may look and sound like a white girl, but I've gotten far too accustomed to Central American food to be satisfied without it. In fact, in this moment, I'm thinking screw Africa and screw New Orleans - I want to spend my summer working on my Spanish and eating this way every damn day. Without being the crazy stalker gringa. I almost put them in my phone so I can call ahead (I do already have the menu pretty much memorized), but that was a little over the top.

I'll try my best to not go tomorrow, but Monday I may take Javier, who pouted that I didn't take him when I took Alejandra. Yeah, she's my favorite, but he's a damn pretty boy.

And now that we know there's no animal anything in the beans, Tami might be hip to it again. And again.

Crescent City Classic

Ayanna and I, perhaps trying to make our friendship more than just about eating together, walked the 10K Crescent City Classic today. I did, however, make more than a few comments about skipping the race and brunching instead - particularly when we walked past Cafe du Monde.

I just ran out of patience. Race start at 8:30, so I got to the end line at 7:45, found parking, and waiting for the shuttle - which they didn't tell us COST MONEY. Ay joined later, and it was a HUGE line. I didn't realize that 60% of New Orleans's population would be there and there'd only be five buses driving us all. Yeah, I'm exaggerating - but not by much. Because we didn't cross the start line until 9:00. Yeah, that's right - almost 1 1/2 hours of waiting just to get to the start line. Crazy.

It's really cold today today, and windy - there were a few times the wind was so loud and hard I felt like a deaf kite. That's probably why there weren't many cheerleaders along the way (one couple sat out there cheering us on, with their little dogs who were wrapped in fur robes and still would rather be inside) or people in costumes or much of a post-party. Maybe we didn't stick around long enough, but I was ready to be done. Six miles ain't that far, but I'm a little sore. I'm told this is a common symptom of hyperthyroidism - quick muscle loss. I'm always fighting a losing battle. Oh well.

In all it was good, but now we know how to do things better. Do our own car shuttle, plan to spend some pre-race time at CDM, that sort of thing.

Another New Orleans experience to check off the list.