I Feel As Though I’d Lived Through All Of This Before In Another Life

There’s that moment when you’re uploading photos for your blog and everything is clicking right along. Then the Internet goes down and everything is lost. And you swear. I mean really swear, loudly. I’m frequently reminded by Javier, Jose Antonio (Tonio), and Melvie that some curse words are universal . . . probably due to TV and film. The heads of our workers turn and their ears perk-up to hear such foul language from their gringa.

After the first hour checking Internet service becomes just another thing to do. It goes with that cigarette break. After four hours it’s laughable, and after six hours I begin to embrace being off the grid, as such was my evil plan in moving to Samara. It’s Pô, Burkina Faso, all over again. And this morning à la mode de Pô, we experienced an especially long electrical outage.

Electricity comes and goes. On average twice daily the whirring of the fans stops and the only sound is birds . . . or birds and monkeys. This quiet normally lasts for about two minutes, max. Today we were without power for about 40 minutes. Now this is very brief, by Pô standards. And unlike West Africa, at Mil Colinas I can dip into the lovely pool for a cool-down when the fans stop. Jill is not as fortunate. When she’s clearly hot I hold her under the shower and wet her legs and tummy. She says that she hates it, but the dog is a known liar.


So with no Internet I’m left with nothing to do but continue the nesting. This I love, despite the fact that I’d earmarked the morning to updating the blog. I accomplished a great deal. The laundry room is finished, and even Nut-Meg’s smelly-cat odor is finally removed. Finally. It took days!

The kitchen is complete . . . or as complete as it’s going to get without a hanging pot rack. What you don't see is a dishwasher that has become storage for all the Villedieu copper pots and pans (and all equipment for growing sprouts is in the microwave).  I’m still waiting for the pot rack. Waiting meaning: I’m waiting to identify the rack that will support about 800 pounds of copper pots and Le Creuset without bringing down the roof. Both baths are finished, and are even relatively stylish. The guest bedroom (and my closet therein) is complete . . . though I continue to accept household items into my closet as our master closet is overflowing solely with Rusty items . . . and Rusty is nowhere near finished unpacking his clothing . . . and the 101 tee-shirts.

And finally, the sala is complete . . . complete with a cowhide rug (thanks, Crabtree) just waiting for a cat or dog to throw-up a lizard right on the soft brindle cow hair.

True, not one piece of art is hung. I’d do it, but we have concrete walls and one simply can’t grab a nail and hammer and start banging-away. Much to my frustration and Rusty’s dread, hanging the art will require Rusty. And when it comes to the spacing and the level of each piece, I expect perfection. Won’t those tools come in handy, honey-pie? 

Rusty is still working via Internet at his Texas job. Can I have a Hallelujah? And without Internet he was forced into town for the WiFi. Poor Rusty. All the way down the mountain with his laptop to work on the beach with beer and fish tacos. My heart breaks. I am so tired of feeding this man three squares a day. I said for better or for worse . . . not for lunch.

Poor me, I stand in an ocean-view kitchen and chop, stir, and occasionally sauteé with a gas range, granite counters, and cedar cabinetry so new that it still retains its wonderful scent.

The home is even relatively clean; and I have yet to break out the big guns in the form of the Shark vacuum. The lightweight Oreck hand-held with extra long sucker-upper tubes is my new best friend (sorry, Becky); and I have Rusty to thank for not selling it in a garage sale. Where was the Oreck in West Africa? For Pô I packed every gadget known to man but forgot the Oreck -- oh, must be because vacuums aren't really known to man. The Oreck is so handy at picking up Meg’s fur-cannon tufts and bugs that I may simply leave it in the open . . . I’m thinking coffee table accessory. Lo que hay.