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It’s ironic in that cruel way that many local Nicos (Nicauragense) can not afford to drink fresh-brews of the savory volcanic coffee for which they are famous.
No, for average Jose’s its Nescafe instant, pre-packaged sandwhich cookies and crackers and all things partially hydrogenated and shelf-stable in the heat.
Weird phenomena upon returning.
About 1 day after our return to
Cali , I notice my skin flaking. Mind you, we didn’t burn while we were away, and used up an entire new can of sporty-sweat proof SPF 50. Yet steadily this week, flakes appeared on my face. Eeek. All right, I can understand the dark peeling spot on the bridge of my rather prominent nose-surely I should have applied extra SPF there…
As the days passed it didn’t end.
Dios Mio, my cheeks, my forehead, even both earlobes!? P’s face and his wrist? I spent this workweek walking around looking like I’m in the aftermath of an expensive chemical cosmetic peel – but I didn’t DO anything and I don’t actually WANT a whole new skin!
In fact, it’s getting alarming. Is this some kind of delayed sun exposure phenomena? Perhaps I’m just allergic to being back at work?
Now I sit in my office on Market St. thinking about pieces of my heart, of my very being scattered all over creation. Where are you from? Where is your home? There are multiple manners to respond to such questions. I am from
Taiwan . That is the land of my birth and of many happy memories of family.
But we are not Taiwanese. My blood goes back to
China , to
Mongolia , to
Manchuria . The Taiwanese have their own culture and language deserving of recognition that the Chinese can not usurp.
If home is defined as where I live now, then I am a Californian. Indeed, to my chagrin, I am. I grew up near a beach, went to college near a beach, have sped down PCH singing happily in a convertible, own an embarrassingly large assortment of bikinis and sportswear, I hug trees & will drive all the way to Berkeley to sate my lust for fine salad, or all the way to L.A. for a roasted artichoke & soy dip.
As an American, I own too much crap, eat too many sweets, and sing the star spangled banner to myself as I drive. (scoff if U will, but hey- can YOU sing it in entirety!? And I didn’t say I sing it WELL.)
But where do you love? I fell deeply in love with the family that took me in in
Costa Rica . Where do you feel you belong? I felt like I belonged on this earth truly and deeply…more so in the roar of
Iguazu Falls bordering
Argentina and
Brazil , than I do in the concrete trap of my home.
Where are the ones you love? Everywhere.
Ann Arbor ,
Taipei ,
L.A. ,
San Francisco , even the dull places like
Fremont &
Cupertino . Few moments in life are finer than when the ones I love are with me, no matter where that is geographically…mom and Auntie in
Mexico , P kayaking on
Lake Cocibalca , on the train to
Tainan with dad, skinny dipping in freezing El Portal waters with my bridesmaids.
I am back in “my” land.
I watch people thwack one another with their shopping bags on pretending not to notice, (to say the least of apologize!) I put on my sunglasses and my game face as I duck the panhandlers, the lady with the Juicy Couture bags, the guy laden with Macy’s parcels, the Bristol Farms Picketers, the Jesus Loves you dude, the 12 galaxies dude, and the woman always handing me manicure flyers. Past the so called security guard at the shoe store who apparently is paid to stand in front of the shop & check out the legs of all female pedestrians. I cringe a bit to think that his is where I "belong"?
Market Street
My organic banana is from
Peru . My water is that snooty staple Perrier. I am attempting to eat a Thai take out from the Bloomingdale’s food court. Coriander entrée that is making my nose water which paired with my heartache and peeling makes for quite an unattractive presentation today. sheesh. Thank goodness I found a way to make a living that is not dependent upon my being more than minimally physically presentable! I calculate that this modest box of food costs close to 200 cordobas.
Just think, in NicaraguaI could have bought 100 yummy El Faro pastries (!!!!), or a giant Pescado entero plus a Tona beer, or 24 shots of Flor de Cana rum (ugh).
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