Well captive reader, I have done my best to snare and spare you with these pages from my journal. If you’re reading this one, I’ll assume you have the rest. I will assume that you are jealous. Very very jealous. It eats at you. So here is some Tums: Grenada is not all sun and spice.
My slackline CONSISTED of three ribbons of webing (two ten feet sections and one forty footer) and three caribiners. It now consists of three ribbons coiled at the base of my bed. That’s right, someone STOLE the defensless carabiners. I have yet to get new ones from a fishing shop here.
A full bottle of light or dark rum costs 10EC/$4. A rum and coke at a bar costs 14.5EC. An ENOURMOUS bean burrito with lettuce, rice, tomato, onion and cheese costs 10EC. A ceaser salad without chicken (that could fit on a tea saucer) costs 15EC. A 2lb. banana shake costs 5EC when a glass of fruit juice costs 3EC. Basically, Grenadians charge on inconvenience and size, not expense to them. That banana shake is a pain to make because Mr. Green Jeans doesn’t own a blender; I can hear him hammering away behind the wall. The fruit juice costs nothing to make and is easy to serve but it’s in the same size cup, so he feels compelled to charge a similar price. Ditto for the salad and burrito: No one wants to shake the salad. The bars operates on this idea: you’ll probably pay a huge pice for something because you’re American, and when you’re drinking you’re not in the mood to perform currency conversions. Also, EC looks like Monopoly money and we spend it as such. Also, there is no dollar bill here. They have 5, 10, 20, 50, 100, 500, 1000. I think we are ridiculous people for holding onto the $1. Give Sacajaweea a chance (I know, I know).
Typical day (unless you’re my Mom, feel free to skip this):
Go to school at 7am for bagel and coffee. The bagels here are funny. I imagine some frenchman came over and started making croissants. Someone asked him to make a bagel, and he just bent the croissant around, faking it. We haven’t decided whether to call them Cragels or Boissants. It’s like cruck and trar, there may never be a consensus. While I’m enjoying my breakfast I watch my Histology teacher, Mr. Paparo, fight off the devil. This man walks out onto the basketball courts below, puts on his headphones, and morphs into a maniac, maniac, on the dancefloor. Here goes: turn yourself around using ten stuttersteps, glide around the court punching randomly at gnats and make sure to roll your head on your shoulders every now and then. Now speed that up 5x and be COMPLETELY into it. All of orientation should consist of a video of this. Not kidding at all.
I walk up the hill either to Anatomy Lab and cut people for a few hours, Histo Lab to look at slides, or Living Anatomy where I get to “play doctor” ( I mean this in the 7-year-old parent-heart attack way). I’m out by noon and go to Mrs. Patel for Indian food, then lecture from 1-5. On days that end in “-sday” I skip lecture and go to the beach. Something about that “s” rubs me the wrong way. Would you like to know what the water feels like? When you walk in, there isn’t that little OOPS when your hips drop in, you just glide through it. And it tastes nasty, like salt.
I have no climbing here, so I jump onto everything and just hang. I have people push my hips everywhichway and then I try to stay myself. I can now hang from a round or flat surface for one whole minute from both hands. For those who don’t climb, this is like the coolest thing ever for serious. Very close to the one-arm pullup with either.
I listen to Interpol “Bring out the Bright Lights” constantly. Yes right now.
I study harder than anyone I know, which is awesome, because then people come up and ask me to explain our Nervous System or Placental Folding and I get to teach it, which is better than studying in the first place. I did very well on the Unified Quiz. Midterm’s in three weeks.
The weekend is three straight hours of beach, lunch, hour siesta, campus to study for six or seven hours, dinner, then dancing and incessant flirting. Nanda was one of the first friends I made here. He used to teach Latin and Salsa. He had an apt, and now a very happy, pupil.
I have included pictures this time. One is of Mrs. Green Jeans, wife to Mr., one is where I eat and stare at the beach, another is the sundisk from an earlier email, one is of my room, and the others are people I know.