I always enjoy Tuesdays and Wednesdays on the calle. They are the quietest days of the week. Morning noises are twittering and whooping birds, the workers from the new house down the road occasionally running a power tool and the sound of Otra Vecina’s dryer on the back porch buzzing intermittently. It’s not so much the noises it’s the absence of sound that strikes me. That is until the dogs down the road start barking and the chickens get to clucking in response.
Today is a day where my most important thoughts are whether to start the spaghetti sauce in the crock pot before we leave for a trip down the peninsula or wait and cook it on the stove top when we get home. It’s when I taste the delicious tang of a passion fruit and I remember how inexpensive they were and I wish I had bought more. Today is a day that I marvel at how good the coffee that SU makes every day tastes; whether it’s the fancy Starbuck’s French Roast beans that Dusty carried back from Canada or the delicious Panameño coffee. I also note once again how much money we save by not drinking take out coffee. And now, even when SU puts the news on to a report about North Korea, I am grateful that life is good in the campo.