The Bahamas 2021 - Day 7. On my way back

I woke up early in the morning, and by quarter to 7 am I was at the airport, looking for my friend James. Not only did I have to return his car, but since he works at the airport he had made the arrangements to get me a seat in the little Piper Aztec that was to convey me back to West Providence. It was a beautiful short flight, which in less than half hour covered the same ground that my tramp steamer covered in 5 hours. Note to self: Next time go to the General Aviation portion of the airport, and get a seat on a light plane. They seem to be going back and forth for most of the day.

Once at the airport I took a walk to the international terminal, much to the distress of the luggage porter, who warned me it was very far away (15 minutes walking!). I cut across the parking lot and, oh miracle of miracles, I spotted a food truck! Two ladies were there, with several giant pots, offering breakfast to the airport employees. This was my last day in The Bahamas, so I had spent my money almost down to the last dollar. I looked eagerly in my wallet, and was able to muster $4. I asked them what would $4 buy me, and one of them rattled a long list of stuff that ended in “grits and sausage”. Grits and sausage it was (for only $3.50), and it was absolutely delicious. The grits were made with yellow corn and they were incredibly creamy (perhaps they had massive amounts of butter?), and the sausage was really a very thick slice of ham. I breakfasted like a king.

The rest of the trip back was uneventful, from Nassau to Dallas, and an hour later from Dallas to San Francisco. Once in San Francisco airport I had to take the airport tram to the BART station. As I stepped up into the station the tram was departing, so I had to wait a good ten minutes before the next one came. Because of this small delay, as I was getting to the BART station I missed the train that was leaving at 7:30 pm. Rats! OK, the next one should come soon. “Soon” was half an hour later, so it was now 8 pm, and Faby was planning on picking me up at the Pleasanton station at 9 pm. The poor thing had to wait until 9:40 pm in the lonely parking lot, but eventually we reunited, and by 11:30 pm I was home and ready to crash in bed. And I have class tomorrow Tuesday at 8 am!

Al things told I had a good time in The Bahamas, and look forward to my summer travels.

The Bahamas 2021 - Day 6. I saved the best for last

I was drinking my morning cup of coffee, looking at a satellite image of Andros Island that decorates the walls of my room, when I noticed a road/track that ran parallel to the Queen’s Road, and which could take me to the West Coast National Park. All excited I went to talk to my host to ask for directions, only to have him look at me like I was insane. After some further explanation he said that yes, there was a dirt road, but he had never gone through it because nobody ever used it. Maybe I would rather go visit the Captain Morgan cave (he even lent me a flashlight)? Or go to the blue hole near Love Hill on the east coast?

So I went and dutifully visited the Morgan cave (I was told it was the biggest cave ever, but it turned out to be pretty small), which was a typical water table cave, squat and in the shape of pancake. I could well imagine Morgan’s hoard spread all over the sand that covered the floor, but as carefully as I looked I failed to find a forgotten gold doubloon.

I then looked after my lost track and in a matter of minutes I got lost into the kind of adventure I had been pining for. My poor friend James, who rented me the Nissan that turned into my expeditionary vehicle, will probably regret renting his car to a geologist. I probably went into the bush for about 100 km, visiting mangrove swamps, water table lagoons, and tidal inlets in the broad and gentle western side of the carbonate platform, disturbing all sorts of water fowl, forest birds, and wild pigs (I almost brought a wild pig for dinner as he dashed across the track in front of my car). As I was traversing this wilderness I reflected that being at ground level gave me a very myopic view of the broad variety of depositional landscapes, and that combining satellite views with ground observations was the definite way to go.

After 5 hours lost in the bush, far away from any form of civilization, I finally regained the paved road. It was getting late, and I was getting hungry, but I decided to run the 40 km down to Love Hill, to check out their blue hole. There were of course no signs, but I asked and got some vague directions, and following my nose I eventually got to a sign, deep in the pine forest, proclaiming that I was entering the Blue Holes National Park. Are you kidding me? I had been hunting for this park for at least three days, and here I am, in the last hour of my solitary vacation, stumbling by chance into one of the highlights of Andros. I drove eagerly into the park for a couple of kilometers, parked, and within a few hundreds of meters found the Captain’s Blue Hole, a beautiful enormous expanse of fresh water occupying all of a gigantic sinkhole. An interpretive sign advised me that the fresh water was a lens “floating” on denser salty water, as I had repeated time and again to my Hydrogeology students. How I wish I had found this place three days ago! I am definitely going to write to the Bahamian Tourist Agency about better maps and signs for the nature tourist.

I got back home without a problem, had dinner, and then sat to write this blog when, all of a sudden, hell broke loose! The day had been very pleasant, and when I got home there was nothing but sun, but now I am in the middle of a typhoon, with buckets of water falling against the walls of my bungalow, as if some deranged firefighter was pointing a high-pressure water jet at my door. I even had to pack towels against the bottom of the door to fend off a pending inundation. Mondo Bizarro!

 

The Bahamas 2021 - Day 5. Relax, relax; there is nothing else to do

I am working at becoming more relaxed. Given that there is not much to do around here, I just have to sleep a little longer, take my time drinking coffee, and enjoying a leisurely drive to my chosen destination.

I did go to the Conch Sound Blue Hole, and enjoyed myself hovering over the deep water of the sinkhole. With the deeper water also comes an increased number of fishes, which adds color and variety to the dive. Unfortunately I did not spot any turtles, moray eels, or sharks. I did discover a sunken ship! But it was of too recent a vintage to hold any promise for sunken treasure. When I got out of the water the wind had picked up, so it was easy to stay on the beach drying out.

After my snorkeling I followed the east coast farther south, and in my new relaxed state of mind took the time to get a couple long walks along the beach. Oddly, there are very few birds around, which reinforces The Twilight Zone feeling that has been hounding me for the last couple of days.

On the way back I stopped again at Uncle Charlie’s Blue Hole, and took advantage of a long track cut among the Bahamian pines to go for a walk. I see these tracks from time to time, and believe they were cut by a D-10 dozer cutting straight ahead for no reason whatsoever (they look like recreational grading if you ask me).

I pushed south past my budding resort all the way to the airport, and there I turned east toward Mastic Point, again on the east side of the island. I liked this small community, which looked reasonably prosperous, attractive, and well cared for. As far as I could tell this is a real Bahamian community, although I am not sure what they do for a living. The narrow sand track along the shore was very pleasant, although again devoid of people, birds, or dogs.

Tomorrow I am going to brave another of those dozer tracks, to see if I can get deeper into the west side of the island. In the meantime, back in my bungalow, I am going to tackle yet another crossword puzzle (in the last moment I packed a booklet with several crossword puzzles, which turned out to be a mental sanity-saver for me!).

 

The Bahamas 2021 - Day 4. Where did everyone go?

Today I took a long drive from North Andros to Central Andros. I only have a very schematic map of the island, so my original plan to go first south and then west to the West Coast National Park was thwarted when the black top road ended abruptly and I was forced to go east instead, where there are some small settlements along the coast. Because of the extensive mangrove tidal flats, it is actually not easy to get to the shoreline. I succeeded in three or four spots, to invariably find a gorgeous beach, with shallow turquoise green water, and absolutely no one in sight. I feel I have been stranded in an uninhabited island. The extreme came when I arrived to a spot where there were several people cleaning the beach around three or four bungalows. I said hello to the boss, who told me they were expecting some guests the following day. I then went for a walk along the small cove, and when I came back 10 minutes later the place was completely abandoned. I felt I was immersed in an episode of The Twilight Zone.

On the way back I bought myself a bottle of a Bahamian rum, Ricardo, intent on at least having a Bahama Libre before I head back home.

Speaking of heading back home, I had to get yet another Covid test at the local Health Center, as mandated by my visa. It was negative so now I am cleared to go home. While at the clinic I met two American families and their kids, who had come to Andros because their families have vacation homes here. I mentioned that the place looks deserted, which they though was just fine because they enjoyed having their stretch of beach all for themselves.

After the test I went exploring in the northernmost tip of the island, and found an ocean blue hole where I want to go snorkeling tomorrow. Just like the inland blue holes, this is the roof of a cave that collapsed, but below sea level, so I think it will be a very nice place to get some snorkeling in deep water without being very far from the shore. An old timer who was fishing there told me that the best would be to come at low tide, around 12 noon tomorrow, because then the fresh water wells up forming a borbollón or fresh water fountain. I wouldn’t mind seeing something like that again (I believe we saw something like that in Yucatán, didn’t we?).

As you can see, it was not a very exciting day.

 

The Bahamas 2021 - Day 3. My arrival to Andros

I woke up around 2:30 am, to a lot of rumbling from the ship’s engines, and to the whispers of the other passengers to the effect that “we are not moving”. I raised my head and with one eye saw some distant lights, and corroborated we were not only a half hour late, but indeed not moving. It seems to me that we had run aground on one of the sand banks, and nothing that the captain could do would set us free. Well, that was something for the cap to worry about, so I just went back to sleep. At 3:30 am the noise told me that we had managed to make it to port, likely liberated by the rise of the tide. Everyone was rushing out, but I had no idea where I was going, so walking into the dark of the night was not within my plans. I took over one of the empty benches and slept like a chilled baby until 7 am, right about dawn, at which time I figured it was time to go. In the intervening hours the crew had disembarked a lot of the cargo and there were precious few folks in the cove. It really looked like the same cove where Morgan the Pirate had emptied the holds of his ship.

So I started walking, thinking that the town was going to be just there, but after 5 minutes convinced myself that I was in the middle of nowhere and turned back. One of the fellows there was shooting his mouth, and when I asked him for directions he was very happy to offer me his services as a taxi. It turned out to be a lucky strike, because there was no one else there who could have offered the service, and as it turned out we were at least 5 miles from the town in one direction, and another 5 miles to my destination on the opposite direction . Not that William knew where my Pine Island Resort was located, but asking here and there he got me to the right place.

The Pine Island Resort Phase 1 is one building with three cute rooms. I am the only guest. Phase 2 is the next building, which is probably 80% finished. Phases 3 through 6 are just sparkles in their owners’ eyes. Landscaping will probably be Phase 7 and the swimming pool will be Phase 8. Right now, then, it is a big barren square of land, miles from the nearest town and beach. But the owners Kennie and Shirley are very nice and while I was taking a well deserved nap, warming out after a long cold night in the boat, they arranged for a rental car to be brought down from the airport, 10 miles away. The owner of the car, James, will also make the arrangements for me to have a seat in a small plane on Monday, for me to make it back to Nassau airport on time for my return flight.

I am, once again, the lonely tourist in a Covid-mummified land, which means I will probably be living on ramen noodles for the next four days, and driving aimlessly from one cool destination spot to the next one, only to find them deserted. My first stop was Uncle Charlie’s Blue Hole, a beautiful sinkhole in the limestones through which one can see the deep blue groundwater 3 or 4 meters below the rim. Unfortunately the only way down was a rickety ladder, and for once prudence prevailed because if the ladder were to fall apart I would be stuck down there without a way of climbing out, and no one to help me within a radius of 5 miles.

I then went to the little hamlet of Nicholls Town to make an appointment for my mandatory Covid test, stop at the ATM, and finally go to the shore to put my toes into the beautiful Caribbean Sea. I actually donned my fins and mask, but snorkeling by yourself has limited appeal, and after 30 minutes of complete solitude I packed up my toys and moved on.

Next on my list was Captain Morgan’s cave, which I admired from the outside because I didn’t bring a flashlight. From there I drove a good 40 miles to Red Bays, the last 20 miles in the most miserable potholed road ever. Red Bays claim to fame is that it was originally an outpost of the Seminole Indians from Florida, although no member of the Seminole survived the British Invasion. Today the locals try to make a living organizing fishing trips for non-existent tourist groups, but are always game to engage in conversation with a lonely traveler.

I stopped at the supermarket near the airport, and bought a basic meal of fried chicken and rice for my dinner. Tomorrow I need to put gas in my vehicle, and will head for Central Andros to see what I can see.

 

The Bahamas 2021 - Day 2. El abominable turista de las 9

I woke up early in the morning and headed for downtown by the simple subterfuge of taking bus 15 to the end of the line. And then what? As my Mom used to joke, when you try to start being a tourist at 9 am there is really not a lot to see. My list included the zoo (alas, closed until Friday), the Botanical Gardens (alas, closed due to Covid), and Perpall Tract National Park inside the city. I asked at the Botanical Gardens how to get to the latter, since in my map they seem to be adjoining each other, but the people there just looked at me with a blank expression; however, Maggie sprung into action and intent on helping this clueless tourist drove me around the area in her Nissan Cube (the most popular car in The Bahamas) while chatting up a storm. We never found the national park, but I once again had the chance to enjoy Bahamian good nature and hospitality. I was also reminded that here they drive on the wrong side of the road.

Museums? Closed. Churches? Closed. Diamond jewelry? Open for business in every shape and form but with no customers! Covid has really devastated the tourist industry of Nassau.

I got back to my beautiful residence at noon, took one last look at my cozy habitat, and with some regret said goodbye to my hostess Carla. Onward to the next stage of my trip! By staying in contact with my hostess in Andros Island I had determined that the best way to get there was by taking the Mailboat, which I doubt carries any mail but does the transport of people and merchandise between the islands, so last night I had spent time in the internet finding what little I could about the place where the ship was docked and the time of departure (all very vague, with reports of departure at 3 pm, 4 pm, and 5 pm). Note to self: Better be there at 3 pm.

I took the trusty bus 15 to downtown, walked a couple of blocks to take bus 1 to Mackey St., and using an almost invisible lane gained access to Potter’s Cay, which is the working dock of Nassau. To the north across the channel is Paradise Island, where the super resorts are located (I never went there, but Carla told me that they were mostly empty due to Covid).

I hadn’t had lunch, and the narrow street to the cay was lined with little eateries, so I chose one with a dining room open to the water, and had a most delicious lunch of conch fritters and ice-cold Sands beer (the two brands of Bahamian beer are Sands and Kalik). The fritters were absolutely delicious, although more batter than conch (conch, pronounced konk, is the snail that inhabits the giant coiled shells that you can blow as trumpets). Thus fortified I went to look for my ship, although by now I was pretty sure I was way too early by being there precisely at 3 pm.

Potter’s Cay was a real experience, because in many ways it is a throwback to the times of the ships of sail. Sure, things are brought by truck and rest on pallets, but after that it is the stevedores who do all the work. You still see cranes lifting bundles of merchandise into the hold of ships, or forklifts running around wildly stacking merchandise to dizzying heights. It is all very colorful, but the overall aspect of the ships is a little distressing; they look old, decrepit, and overstrained. But surely The Mailboat in the website looked like a modern roll-on roll-off ship. When I got to the end of the cay, where the Lady Rosalind was docked, I could barely believe my eyes: it was the most incredible rust bucket I have ever seen. The hull had been patched many times with steel plates welded (with rust?) here and there, and I was convinced that today was going to be its last day before joining hundreds of sunken ships in the Caribbean!

Let me make a brief interlude here to recall that, as my flight was descending into the Nassau airport, I was amazed at the incredible clarity of the turquoise sea, the underwater shoals, and ... now what are those white things? ... they are big ... goodness gracious, they are sharks! And if you can see them from a jetliner you know they are really, really, big sharks.

Going back to the Lady Rosalind, I had visions of sinking among bales of merchandise, hanging for dear life to a pallet, and seeing the triangular fins circling around me. Well, nothing ventured nothing gained I thought as I stepped on the gangway, but one of the guys shouted at me that I was in the wrong ship. He then pointed to the President Taylor, which would be best described as a tramp steamer, with plenty of rust streaks on it but a significantly more seaworthy appearance. I sighed with relief. But the deck was almost empty ... they were just beginning to load, so there was no way they could depart any earlier than 8 pm!

I spent the next 5 hours walking through Potter’s Cay, soaking in the color and music of a busy port, and from time to time going back to my boat to see the captain (who is also the top forklift operator) put together his cargo with the dexterity of a Tetris Grand Champion. There was not a wasted spot, and of course the passengers, most of who arrived between 6 and 7 pm, had to squeeze themselves between tall stacks of merchandise, cars, containers, gas trucks, and the odd boat. My favorite was when the cap brought a car in between the tines of his forklift, lifted it high in the air, and spinning on a dime deposited it on top of a container (a feat he repeated on two more occasions!).

I went back to my shack for a tasty conch salad and another round of beers around 6 pm, and eventually settled myself in the middle of a tiny clearing among pallets, together with a bunch of kids, for the 4-hour ride to Andros. We didn’t start until 10 pm, so our ETA at Andros was going to be around 2 am. But to me this is what adventuring is all about, so I am in heaven :)

The Bahamas 2021 - Day 1. I have landed in West Providence/Nassau

I flew from San Francisco to Miami, where we arrived at 6 am, and almost managed to miss my flight to West Providence because there was a gate change and I didn’t figure it out until the last minute, when they called the passengers for Panama City! But I got into the right flight at last, and an hour later we landed in West Providence Island, whose most important is Nassau. Immigration was a piece of cake because “I had my Golden Ticket!” in the form of my Travel Health Visa, so barely 15 minutes after we had landed I was going out of the airport.

Naturally there were many friendly taxi drivers, but I had gotten it into my head that I was going to walk to the boulevard and take the bus. Well, it didn’t quite work as I had expected because the bus must have taken a different route. Fortunately there was a cool breeze blowing, so I was able to walk in comfort. The Bahamas are the archetypical Caribbean islands, but in the dry season they look a bit parched. The limestone soils are not very fertile, so the vegetation looks a bit like that of Yucatán, with dry scrawny bushes, palm trees, and some very rachitic pine trees and the biggest magnolias I have every seen. There I was, trekking along the John F. Kennedy Blvd., with never a sight of bus 12b, until I decided to look at the map and spotted a neat little shortcut to the northern shoreline boulevard. Once there it took me no time to jump unto bus 10, which for $1.25 took me in a fun rise along the northern coast until we reached downtown.

I had imagined a bustling and colorful part of town, but I was disappointed. It think the downtown area was hard hit with the Covid lockdown, with many businesses boarded up or simply abandoned. The antros where Spring Breakers indulge in crazy partying looked despondent. “Well”, I said to myself, “maybe they come to life at night”, but I later learned that Nassau is under a strict curfew from 10 pm to 5 am. Nope, the touristic blood of Nassau has simply dried out.

The Bahamas is a Black nation, inhabited by the descendants of the slaves brought from Africa by the British; but they are still a proud member of the Commonwealth of the British Empire, which leads to the incongruous view of Black folks walking along the King’s Road, or the white marble statue of Victoria Regina in front of the government palace. To each his/her own, but I would have gotten rid of those trappings of a slave colony a long time ago.

Bahamians are nice friendly people, who go out of their way to help a visitor. I stopped in a bar to have a cold beer, and clumsy me managed to topple over and spill the disinfectant spray bottle that is ubiquitous in businesses and buses, and to pay for my drink with a $50 bill, which caused two or three other customers to dig into their pockets to break it for me so I could get my beer. Later, when I got tired of walking, a friendly passerby pointed me toward a bus that would take me at least part of the way, and the different bus drivers handed me from one bus route to the other until I finally got close to my destination on the east side of the island. Walking there, with my map open as a banner in front of me (and a brand on my forehead proclaiming I was a clueless tourist) I was addressed by an older gentleman in a car who was concerned I might be lost. I feel well cared for.

My home stay, Carla’s Cottage, is a beautifully-groomed two-story house, in a nice residential neighborhood. I have the upper floor, and the louvered windows provide me with a delightful cross-breeze as I write down my notes. I did venture into the neighborhood to find some food (spicy ribs and fried rice) and drink (a Cuba Libre and a Mojito), but I think I am going to stay home for the afternoon and enjoy my airy perch.

The Bahamas 2021 - Days -5 to 0. Do I go to The Bahamas or don’t I?

Rats! The Bahamian government has decided that in order to come into their one needs to have a negative PCR Covid test—that is the test where they stick a swab up your nose. However, the specimen must be collected no more than 5 days before your arrival into The Bahamas. I am landing on Tuesday, so the earliest I could get the swab was on Thursday morning. Oh, but the test takes 3 days to yield results, the lab doesn’t send reports over the weekend, and this is Easter weekend anyway. So the earliest I could get my results was today, Monday, and I am departing today at 10:45 pm from San Francisco, which means that if I don’t get the Bahamian Travel Health Visa by 3 pm I would not have time to get to the airport. 

I did pick up the negative result at 8 am, and rushed back to my house to scan it and load it unto the website of the Travel Authority of the Bahamas, only to receive a message back advising me that I should get a response within 24 hours. Arghh! I waited for a couple of hours, but nothing. So I called and was told in a very charming British accent that my call was important but there were 45 people in the queue ahead of me. Finally, after an hour and fifteen minutes of hanging by the phone, I reached a very sympathetic lady who listened to my tale of woe and with many a “tsk, tsk” told me she would let the visa tech know about my plight, and said goodbye with the encouraging note that “you should have an answer by 4 pm”. That would be 1 pm my time, so again I waited patiently, refreshing the Travel Authority webpage over and over again hoping my approval would show up. DJ and Ronnie were coming to pick me up at 3 pm to take me to the bus, so that was going to be the moment of truth. Finally, at 2:50 pm I got the notification that my visa had been approved, pending my payment of the $60 fee. I rushed to the computer, paid with my credit card, and was just printing the fully executed visa when DJ rolled in! I had made it on the nick of time!

The boys drove me to Modesto, where I took the bus to the BART station in Pleasanton, and from where I could take the metro all the way to the airport. The bus got stuck in traffic caused by a truck that had tipped over, so now it was the turn of the driver to be all anxious about not arriving on time. I was cool as a cucumber because my flight was still 5 hours away, and in fact got to the airport around 7:30 pm, with lots of time to spare. And a good thing I had the leisure time, because they had moved things around and it took me some time to find the correct terminal, check in (waving proudly my brand new visa), get through security, and have dinner.

The airport looks like it has been emptied by the plague, with everyone wearing masks and staying quite separate from each other. As much as we might want to “go back to normal”, it is clear that we still have a long way to go. I am glad, however, that I am back in the circuit and am looking forward to my week in the Bahamas.

A Tale of the Mojave - The Covid Epilogue

The Covid Epilogue  

While we were having our adventures in the Mojave, Fabiolita stayed behind, at the frontline like a good veterinarian, making sure pets remain healthy and are able to provide the companionship that has been a lifeline in the times of Covid. She has been the source of worry for both DJ and myself, for everyday she gets exposed to new people who, although deeply in love with their pets, are not always Covid-conscious. Of course she follows safety protocols and always always wears a mask. 

 

When I arrived home from my adventures, on Saturday evening, I was delighted to get a message from Faby and DJ inviting me to a traditional Thanksgiving dinner the following afternoon, Sunday November 29. It was picture perfect, with a deep-fried turkey cooked to perfection by DJ, and the usual assortment of trimmings of oven-baked macaroni-and-cheese, cranberry sauce, stuffing with chopped turkey gizzards, gravy, a home-made pumpkin pie, and a steady flow of bubbly. It felt so good to be home with the family, and to thank the Good Lord for all the blessings we had received this crazy year (e.g., the France trip just before Covid exploded, Ronnie 6^th year anniversary and the flight Opa gave him for a present, and a fabulous Mojave trip). 

 

That night Faby felt ill and took to her bed with a mild fever, and by the following morning she had to call in sick because she could barely get out of bed and her body was aching all over. The clinic went into panic mode (right now they only have two vets instead of their normal compliment of three) and sent her to get tested right away. That night the fever broke (just in time for Ronnie to develop a fever), and by the following morning (Tuesday December 1) Faby started on her way to recovery (she finally was cleared by her doctor to go back to work on December 9). Ronnie’s fever broke overnight, and the little bird was as chipper as ever the following morning. DJ is doomed! 

 

As soon as I heard Faby was not well I put myself under voluntary quarantine (starting Monday November 30) and started monitoring my temperature and oxygen levels. The following Saturday (December 5) went to get tested. Three days later I found I was positive, and sighed with relief thinking “Well, thank God that is over with.” I felt just fine, had not had a fever, and had healthy oxygen levels. But it is hard not to be a hypochondriac in the age of Covid, so everytime I took Phoebe out for a walk I had to stop and ask myself if I was short of breath. Every little cough seemed the harbinger of respiratory illness. 

 

It finally hit me. On Saturday December 12, at around noon, I felt tired and decided to take a nap on the couch. At least in a figurative way I was down for the count. No fever, mind you, but I was completely drained out of energy and my lower back was killing me. Over the next two and a half days I still dragged myself out of the couch twice a day to take Phoebe for a walk, but I had no interest in cooking or eating, and outside of morning showers and a bit puttering around the house I was aimless in my thoughts and actions. Dear Lord, is this what retirement feels like? 

 

And then, all of a sudden at noon of Tuesday December 15, I came back to life. I woke out of my 3-day nap with a start, feeling the need to stretch my legs with a long Phoebe walk and also feeling quite ravenous. I had some turkey soup in the fridge, and I gobbled it with gusto accompanied by long drafts of cool refreshing water. I was glad to be back in the world of the living, apparently without any serious after-Covid effects. 

 

But I was hasty when I declared no after effects. A good one was that when I weighed myself I was pleasantly surprised that I was 220 lbs, pretty much the same weight I was throughout my 40’s and 50’s. A bit brutal, but the Covid diet surely melts the pounds away. On the negative side I was in a pessimistic funk for a couple of days, shaking my head at the folly of youth in general and my students in particular. I am glad to say that gloomy spirit soon went away, and my regular positive personality was soon back on its feet. Finally, I was absolutely terrified when I sat down to enjoy a plate of enchiladas and found out that everything tasted like mashed potatoes without salt! And the nice Moscato I was having with dinner tasted like little more than sweetened water. Oh no, I am doomed! 

 

For a foodie like me, this was the cruelest blow I received in a particularly rough year. Barely a week short of Christmas Eve, the most delicious day of the year, and with a menu I have been agonizing over for a month or so, I am going to have to smile my way through an endless succession of dishes of mashed potatoes without salt! What is there for Christmas Eve dinner? A traditional central Mexico menu of Bacalao a la Vizcaina (dried and salted codfish cooked Bay of Biscay style, with onions, garlic, tomatoes, olives, and capers) with home-baked crusty bread (Fabiola’s department), followed by Revoltijo (a tasty mole dish with spinach and dried shrimp). DJ and Ronnie are in charge of appetizers and a pie. 

 

May your own Christmas celebration be blessed just like ours will be. 😊 

 

And may your Christmas feast be tasty! If it tastes like mashed potatoes you now know you are not alone ☹ 

I know this, too, shall pass. 

 

Merry Christmas! 

 

Horacio