Reminds me of Ecuador

Life as WE Know IT

Empty Rooms

More Olympica

I am very appreciative of the Olympics. In truth, I am mildly interested in most events, but basketball and biking and volleyball and swimming kept me company, as I sieved through piles and piles of paper and tiny objects that may or may not need saving. I found the opening ceremonies a little outrageous and almost silly, but I suppose that the organizers wanted to make an impact, which they were successful with. The bottom line is that I am very much entertained by the talent of the athletes, and  watching them helps me slog through the tasks on my list.

I imagine that Tara is there in London, perhaps at events, perhaps watching on big screens in the park, right in the middle of the action. Maya and I will be in London for the last four days of the Olympics, and will participate however we possible can. I was hoping to get tickets, but the prices are beyond me.

Now it is late and I ought to sleep, but men's gymnastics is actually entertaining, and I am inspired and have left my piles for tomorrow.

I celebrated my birthday with Emily tonight at Cinghiale; the food was good, the wine was wonderful, and it was great to be in downtown Baltimore with all the action and activity!

No Health Insurance

Yay !!!! The Olympics!

It is late at night/early in the morning, and I am watching the opening of the Olympics. I am imagining Tara watching in London. I understand there are huge screens in the parks and the locals are gathering with picnics watching the events 'live'. I guess they are the poor man's Olympics. I tried to get tickets for our time there, and the prices were prohibitive. I will be happy to be in the city and part of the crowd, tickets or not.

I am alternately intrigued and rather horrified by the spectacle. I have only seen bits and pieces, and of course it is spectacular, but also kitschy and expensive and sometimes ridiculous. The Londoners appear delighted, and that is most important, because they have been moaning about the expense and the disruption for months.

I am interested, but not enough to devote my undivided attention. I will have the television running while I pack and organize, and I will cheer when I see an extraordinary performance. A scandal or two will make it all more interesting, 

Letting Go

Terror in America

Listening to World Music

Bizarro Balitmore

It was the third day of Artscape, and the first day that  it was not raining, so the Art Festival was packed with humanity. It was cool and comfortable and the sun was not shining, which meant that it was entirely comfortable. I wonder if it is because I am leaving Baltimore that the decor and the booths and the style felt entirely bizarre to me. Has it always been so quirky? Or has it become more and more unusual? 

I parked at the Montessori school Maya once attended, illegally of course, but did not get a ticket. I wandered down to the Charles Theatre, and right up Charles Street to look at the 'art cars' decorated in odd and rather disturbing themes. Everyone was taking photos, so I did too, but I did not appreciate the cars at all. There were circus booths with outrageous items, like the world's longest eyelash. I couldn't believe the long lines waiting to see the absurdities. I was entertained by a houseboat with a raucous band and its fans moving to the music. 

The art booths were familiar from former years, and I would probably have bought something except that I absolutely want to buy nothing for the next ten years, since I have so much and have so much more to pack away. I never want to buy anything again! I listened to Bach cantatas and watched a contemporary dance performance accompanied by dystonic music, which reminded me of Maya and her dancing. She called me in the middle of the show, and reassured me that she is happy and doing well. She had been having headaches and I simply told her to sleep longer, and that seemed to help. This is her first time on her own and she is doing wonderfully!

I was treated to soul, hip hop, funk, reggae, folk, rock, alternative; every sort of music one could ask for, sometimes in large venues, most often buskers on the sidewalk, except for the houseboat on the bridge. I was struck by the absurdity of the onlookers; the outfits, the hair, the makeup. Perhaps those who chose to attend the festival were the more adventuresome Baltimoreans. I was entertained.

Avoiding Reality

There is so little time ahead of me to pack up the house, yet I manage to avoid doing anything, for all manner of good reasons. There was the week without power, and 105 degree temperatures (the heat index was 126!!!!!) which made it incredibly difficult to move, let alone organize clothes and books and papers etc. I had one good day, when I took everything out of my extensive closet and created ten boxes of clothes to be hidden away in the storage unit, never to be seen again.

This past two weeks, I have had the worst summer cold ever, and that has been a good reason to avoid the list of tasks carefully outlined in my iphone. No more excuses for me today; I am finally feeling better. I had some energy last night and packed up the guest room, partly by moving Maya's clothes into my room ( a very convenient way to pack; moving things from one room to another).

It rained all day, or at least drizzled. A perfect day to stay inside and work on the house. Of course I had to go to my yoga class first, and then shower and visit the office to see a few patients, and then I had to buy a bathing suit, and eat lunch, and go to another yoga class, and get my nails done. I was planning to go downtown in the evening to attend Artscape and watch a dance troupe perform and see a concert, but my conscience compelled me to get moving on the house. I finished cleaning out Maya's room and started on my paper piles in my office and packed for my August trip and began organizing Ecuador clothes. Every task is unfinished and therefore there are piles of disorganization in every corner, but progress has been made and I am feeling a little less disgusted with myself.

I am a cat lady; Felix and Quinn are excited to see me, and want to play and hang out. They are my only company today, although I did speak to my parents and my sister and Maya from Michigan and Tara from England. I expected to feel lonely this week, and although I miss my daughters particularly, I am surprisingly comfortable. I was wondering what it was like to be single, and I suppose this is my single experience, and I am enjoying the freedom to do what I wish. Of course, with work occupying me most of the day, and a compulsory yoga class after work, I am getting home late, and avoiding working on the house. I am not allowing myself to go out (only to the movies Monday night) in the hopes that I will be inspired to make an effort.....

Time to be Serious

Jazz and Yoga and the Deluge

Just Breathe

Jazz and Roma

I listened to an unusual amount of jazz today. It was simply seeping into my day at every turn, and I paused to pay attention and to feel the rhythms and the soulfulness of the music. Before I met Eric I would go to concerts every week, from jazz to classical to rock to bluegrass. Live music was a passion of mine. Eric went along with me initially, but was not particularly interested, so I went to fewer and fewer concerts and listened to less and less music. I remember waking up each morning and taking time to choose the appropriate CD for the moment and blasting it through the house to accompany our waking up. That never happened in our home in Baltimore.

So alone in the house and the car and the office, I listened to music, and jazz was the standard today. I did not pay attention to who I was listening to, and I wish I had, because it was soothing and affirming. I will play more music in my new life.

I had an unscheduled day, with some paperwork to attend to, but no patients. I had originally planned to pack and organize, and had that intention long into the day, but somehow I got sidetracked and never accomplished any move-oriented tasks. Bikram yoga came first, a long discussion with the landscaper, who assures me that our yard will be transformed left me more than a little worried. Nothing looks good yet, but Ishmael, as he is named, is just starting.

The hours in the office were consumed by 'busywork'; necessary but uninspiring. I love to see patients, but I do not enjoy the paperwork and billing and filing that must be done.

I was transported to Rome for the evening. Woody Allen's new film is a love affair with Rome, which is familiar to me and absolutely gorgeous as always. I will spend a few days in Rome at the end of the summer, and another few days in Umbria, and that will have to be enough for my Italy fix for the year. I am swooning and in love with the 'Eternal City', and am feeling wonderful. My first day home alone went perfectly well. I received a telephone message form my daughter, who did not forget my birthday but could not get through yesterday, so better a day late than forgotten. I wrote letters to Maya at camp, and expect her to call me at 6 PM on the dot tomorrow night when she is able to procure a phone card. I am hoping she is happy and having an 'awesome' (12 year old language) time.

Searching for Meaning

It was my birthday today, and I spent it alone. Most of the time, I simply felt astonished that I would be alone on such a special day. No matter what the circumstances were, it was shocking and unusual and frequently devastating. I spoke to my niece at length, who encouraged me to eat everything that was yummy and delicious, and of course there is so much to choose from in Manhattan, I was lured in all sorts of directions, and compelled to taste, mostly cold dishes, since it was sweltering in the 90's.

I started by sleeping in a little. Eric left early in the morning for the train to Providence and then the drive to Woods Hole. He had a big day teaching today, and I understood that it was a huge effort for him to drive and then take the train to NYC and then search for a birthday present for me. He played it safe and bought me Lululemon attire, which I am absolutely delighted with. He intimated that the search for a gift was strenuous and challenging, so I was doubly appreciative. I almost ignored the alarm and his movements and fell back asleep soon after his departure, which is unusual, because more often than not, I do not fall back asleep after being awoken. When I finally did open my eyes, I reminded myself that I was not obliged to do anything, so I stayed in bed to stretch, and then wandered over to the window to peek out at Times Square to my left. I decided this was the perfect place to start my exploration of New York City.

I did not rush however, and chose to be leisurely in my morning ritual. I read the paper naked, and then took my shower. I decided to read some more, and took breaks to dress, to pack, to brush my hair, but between each two minute task, I read again for a half hour, so that it was two ours later that I was finally ready to leave my hotel room and start my adventure. I kept reminding myself that this was my day, and I had no obligations.

Times Square was packed with tourists, and it was very hot. I plunged into the crowd to the Starbucks across the street, where I  hoped to use the internet to make a plan for the day. I wanted to wander around the city, looking at neighbourhoods that felt welcoming and suitable for Maya and Eric and myself. There were no seats at the coffee shop. I wanted to linger, because I liked hearing all the different languages and conversations going on, but I sat outside near TKTS drinking my coffee and trying to decide what to do.

New York is too big, and there are too many choices to make.....I decided to spoil myself on my birthday and had my favourite Jamba Juice, and walked down Broadway breathing in the noise and the colours and the activity. There were a group of musicians named the 'Garbageband', who made their instruments out of garbage, and sounded rather remarkable. The Discovery Exhibit caught my attention, and I could not help but enter to see the 'Terracotta Warriors'. When I finished, I decided that it was time to be more serious about my apartment search. I wandered down Broadway, distracted by the hoards of people. On several occasions I was asked if I was from New York, perhaps for directions, I am not sure, but it made me feel as if I was a New Yorker, which I will be, but perhaps I am one already. I felt more comfortable in the area around NYU, which I had visited frequently when Tara attended Tisch. I liked Soho even more, but then crossed to the West Side. I decided that Maya would want to live in a quieter part of New York, and the West Village was quieter and more neighbourly.

Walking up 8th Avenue to the Lincoln Center felt very very long, but I wanted to get a taste of Central Park. Living near Lincoln Center would be wonderful; I would be at the opera every week, and nearby is my favourite movie theatre. I wanted to stop to see a film, but reminded myself that my agenda was to find an appartment. I asked at a real estate office about rentals, and was told that I would have to look in November for a January or February rental, so I made no appointments for today.

I was exhausted and my feet hurt. I could not say no to  gelato when 'Groms' appeared before me. Pistachio, lemon granita and Italian yoghurt reminded me so much of Sicily and our time there last summer, I was in heaven, so much so I got gelato all over my white dress, which ruined my mood for a moment. I then realized that neither of my daughters had remembered my birthday. I had not had a bad day, and had enjoyed my wanderings, so I was surprised at my tears and my sadness.

It was time to go. The walk to my hotel on Times Square was a denouement. The bellman urged me to take a taxi to Penn Station, but I find taxis take longer in the crowds than my feet, so I slung my bag over my shoulder and hiked the 15 blocks to the train station, to arrive just in time to catch the 6:45 to BWI.

I accomplished what I had planned; I will start my apartment search in the West Village, perhaps Chelsea, or if there is something fantastic and affordable near the Lincoln Center (although Eric needs to be near the Path train to Newark, and the West Village is the perfect place for that). I have decided that since Maya will be in Ecuador til Feb, and will homeschool for the rest of grade 7, I will worry about schools later.

I finished my book in the train, and cried some more. I blame myself for bringing up children that forget their mother's birthday.

Our New Home

I am not a tourist today. New York is home.

Positivity

I am trying to be positive about this adventure of ours. I ran into a parent of one of Maya's friends from the past, and we caught up with our lives, and as usual, there was much enthusiasm about our plans. I get the feeling that we are a little off the norm, and people are used to us doing unusual things, that our most recent jaunt is part of who we are. Most people just stay where they are, or at least the ones that I know. If they move, it is to Chicago or Minneapolis or San Francisco, not Ecuador and New York. Packing everything up and leaving our lives behind (again) gives us an opportunity to start over, to explore, to get out of our comfort zone, to challenge us, to make us better, more interesting, more experienced.

I try to sound enthusiastic, even when in truth I am scared and unsettled. I wonder how we will manage, and if we will be safe, and successful, and happy, and glad that we chose to make such a huge change. I watched Maya's ballet performance yesterday, and found myself in tears when I realized that she had been at Peabody from the age of three, and even though I never really liked the artistic director or her ballet teacher (he kicked me out of my ballet class because I refused to wear the appropriate attire) I hugged them and cried when I said goodbye. We have been at Peabody daily for years and years, either for violin or ballet, Maya has performed many many times; it has been her home away from home. She was gushing tears as she said goodbye.

She spent some time with her friend Sarah this afternoon, and there were more tears and more sadness. In fact, Maya has been crying almost daily, and I want to cry with her. Baltimore is home, it is where our friends are, and although I did not like it much when we arrived, and it took a long time to warm up to it, and there were as many trials and tribulations as positives, I will miss our lives here.

Yet, I look forward to our time in Ecuador. I am telling our friends to expect us. Maya's school is delighted to take her back, as is her violin instructor, and yesterday we bought point shoes at the dance store in preparation for her return to Fundacion Danza. Ecuador is always an adventure, and there are so many places to explore. I want to return to Mindo, and to the beach, and visit Loja and the south, and go the Zuleta for a weekend, and ride horses in the paramo, and try another jungle lodge, and see more animals and birds and take photos and more. I hope our friends come to visit, and that we can share our experience with family too. I am not yet thinking about New York, although tomorrow I will look at apartments in the city, and try to figure out if we can survive there. More to look forward to.

Being Alone

I have not been alone for over 23 years. Husbands and children have been fixtures in my life for so long, I am not sure how to be alone. Certainly, being with others does not prevent loneliness; sometimes I feel lonely with all the activity broiling around me. But the next few weeks, with Maya at camp and not regularly accessible, and Tara in London and incommunicado much of the time, and Eric consumed by his work in Woods Hole, I will be entirely alone in my house for over two weeks. My friend Emily thinks it is wonderful and believes I will enjoy every minute. The freedom to engage in any activity at any time (within the constraints of work hours of course) makes me giddy. So many possibilities. Of course, I am supposed to be seeing patients and packing up the house, so my freedom is limited, but I will be more free than I am accustomed to being, and that will be entirely new and exciting.

I miss Maya already. We have been preparing her for camp all week, her new suitcase filled to over flowing, every detail on her list accounted for. She is apprehensive about camp, her first time truly away form her parents in her lifetime. She is irritable and skittish, but being a good sport, and readying herself for the plunge. I cannot imagine a night, and evening, a morning without her. My days revolve around her schedule and her needs and her wishes. I listen to her concert daily as she practices her violin, I watch her dance, I empathize with her pain when she is doing her homework, I organize playdates, and we go to concerts and plays and movies and the opera. She is my constant companion and she is funny and entertaining and loving and interesting and wraps me around her little finger at all times.

No more demands or rules or limitations.....except of course for work and packing. I have no idea what I will do....but I will try to enjoy it!

Maybe this is Impossible

How much do we need?

The Power of the Common Cold

Cape Cod Weekend II

This will be my last Cape Cod weekend for a year. Eric will continue to teach for another three weeks, but Maya is off to summer camp and I must take packing more seriously. I have a month to prepare the house for rental. That means removing every shred of us from the premises, painting every surface new and neutral (gone will be our rich green bedroom walls), repairing the holes in the walls which have been there for months and which we have all become accustomed to, landscaping the yard, getting the lead certificate (last rental experience was a disaster because Eric decided we did not need one and that gave the renters an 'out' so they could break the lease and abandon the house), buying new appliances, finding the renters, and preparing my practice for a once monthly schedule.

The house was a disaster when Maya and I left Friday afternoon. I had decided to start packing up my closet on July 4, when it was 105 degrees outside and worse inside the house, and pulled everything out of the closet and left it on the bed. It was too hot to continue Wednesday, but for all my efforts Thursday (after a ten day workday, dinner with Emily and Nathan, and finally power and AC) I could not get it all done before our departure. It will be my Monday night project.

When I get on the Airtran plane with Maya, I try to forget my 'to do' lists, and I focus on appreciating the moment. Eric picked us up at Logan, and to avoid the Cape Cod traffic jam, we drove to the North End for 'the best pizza in town', but could not find parking, so ended up on Newbury street. The roads were packed with revelers, and the restaurants all had 45 minute waits. We settled on the 'Met Back Bay' where we were so hungry, it did not matter that the food was delicious. We looked for JP Licks ice cream, but it had disappeared, so settled for Ben and Jerry's before our drive to the Cape in the dark.

I had invited my nephew to join us every weekend we have visited Boston, and he decided to join us Saturday for a ferry ride to Martha's Vineyard, and biking down to Edgartown. We stopped at a bridge where the locals all jump into the sea, so Eric and Edouard and Maya joined them while I tried to get the perfect shot. Eric had never been to Edgartown except by boat last weekend. It reminds me of Provincetown, so very quaint.

Edouard was on his way to Boston for a hot date. We stopped off at 'Quick's Hole' for Southwestern food and the best churros for miles around, and I was able to finally watch 'Nights of Cabiria', which I had rented almost a month ago and had to be seen before too late.

I am working at being idle on Sundays. I read an article in the New York Times about the importance of idleness, especially for people like me, who run in circles all the time and are always 'too busy'. I was unable to sleep until 5 in the morning, so slept until late, and had an uncomfortable skype discussion with my sister about my parents. I was distraught for hours after that. Maya and Eric went off to the beach, while I biked the 'Sea to Shining Sea' bikepath for hours and hours trying to feel better about death and dying and my own mortality. I met Eric and Maya in Falmouth at the 'Cinema Pub' for a screening of the Disney movie 'Brave' which ended up being a bit confusing to me, but perfectly clear to Maya, which is what counts.

We leave for Boston at 3 in the morning for our flight to Baltimore, another week of ballet camp and work and more serious packing and preparing for our journey to Ecuador.

Cape Cod Weekend

Off the Grid

This is our second venture 'off the grid'. Ecuador is very far away from our lives here. This time, however, we are leaving our lives truly behind and it is doubtful that we will return to live in Baltimore. I wonder who we will stay in contact with, what part of Baltimore we will bring with us, what parts of ourselves we will leave behind, who we will be when this adventure is over, or if it will ever be over. In some ways, this will be more and less of a distance. Last time, we left all our belongings in storage, and did not return but for a short visit after Christmas to lecture to the students and bring them back to Ecuador. Eric was such a big part of the Johns Hopkins Ecuador course, I can't imagine that not being a part of our lives again, although Eric hopes to set up the same course at NJIT/Rutgers. Finally, however, we returned to the same house, the same friends, the same habits, the same schedules. Maya had the most to adjust to, with a new school the first year, and another new program her second year. I worry that Maya has had too many changes already, and is faced with more and new challenges again these next few years. Is it too much for her? Is it too late to hope for steadiness and certainly and sameness and predictability? How will this affect her and her approach to her life. I imagine that she will want to stay in the same place forever when she is an adult.

This time, we will again put everything away in storage (a bigger space this time, how did we accumulate more than last time?). Our house will be rented, then sold, and we will no longer live in it. I liked my house, I did not love it. Eric and his parents chose it and then renovated it in their way, so it took a long time for it to be mine. In the ten years we lived in the 110  (now 120) year old house, it was battered and bruised and fell apart inside and out. Trees were uprooted during Isabelle and Irene, and water seeped into the basement every time there was a violent downpour. Mice lived in the walls and often ventured into the kitchen and the closets upstairs where I hid and forgot Maya's Halloween candy.  I often felt that I was battling the house, not working with it, or it was not working with me. Eric is very handy with household projects, but has no time for them, and is comfortable living with disarray. Every appliance we own is broken, but he very skillfully fixes them just enough to make them workable for a while. That won't be good enough for renters or buyers, so I will have to replace every appliance in the house.

We will leave our lives behind again, without hope of turning back. We will start again, which can be exciting and renewing. We can take what we want with us, and leave parts of ourselves behind, and that can be a good thing. We have friends in Ecuador, and a chance to reconnect and deepen our friendships. Last time, it felt that we were visitors, and did not truly become part of the lives of Ecuadorians, perhaps because they knew we were there only a short time. This time, we are returnees, so perhaps we will be invited into their lives to a greater extent. Or perhaps our time there is again too short, and our truly new lives will be in New Jersey or New York.

We will live 'off the grid' again, not participating in the relentless move forward of our North American lives. It will be 'time out' for me, a chance to explore a different side of who I am, which is a good thing. I am feeling that this move is more permanent. I will be different inside, and I will never return to who I was before. That is both good and scary and uncomfortable.

Pack Rat

I am not a hoarder per se, but watching myself trying to reduce my packing load is quite revealing. I had arranged a charity to pick up 'between four and ten bags' of clothing and household items this morning. I dug through my closet and separated out as much as I could, and filled up only a bag and a  half. I went through Maya's clothes, and Eric's, and stretched to another half bag. I was desperate, knowing that at 7 AM today, the bags would be picked up. Although the AC was sort of working, I was dripping sweat before I even moved this morning, desperate to manufacture the missing bags. I managed to fill up five, which is half of what I planned, but a huge effort nevertheless.

I find it difficult to give up anything; even when I have not worn anything for months and years, there is always the possibility that an item could come in handy. I cannot bring most of what I own to Ecuador or New York, so it only makes sense to rid myself of boxes and boxes of clothing. Instead, there are overflowing bins all over my room. I try to make some sort of order, and I am quickly lost and confused, and unable to accomplish this task I have given myself.

We travel to Ecuador with two bags of 50 pounds each, and we return from Ecuador with exactly the same amount of belongings, which includes books and toilet articles and computers and everything necessary for our stay in a small two bedroom apartment. In New York, we will live in a closet, and will be able to own even less. I am not sure when or if I will see anything I have carefully packed. We have kept almost everything we own in a storage unit we never bothered unpacking after we returned to Baltimore. I have no idea what I am missing, and I suppose that means I miss nothing of my belongings.

We are consumers in a world of plenty, we believe we need more and more and accumulate so much that is unnecessary and excessive. I wish I could reduce my load, my footprint, my consumption, but when I have to make the necessary choices, I balk and pack some more.

And then there was Light

We have lived in the dark for four days, lighting candles in the windows and creeping around via flashlight. I am rather amazed that we have done so well. Maya gets her violin done early before it get dark, and is ready for bed by 9, when the light disappears outside. I have been finding myself in bed earlier than ever, since there is no television watching, or internet for the computers. I have thrown away all the food in the two refrigerators, and we have been snacking out of the house for all meals.

I am stunned at how dependent we are on our devices, and how lost we feel without them, but also amazed that Maya and I have adjusted and managed being unplugged. It is most difficult to work on the house in the 100 degree temperatures (and 100% humidity). I was determined to make progress today, and waded through my closet upstairs. I was dripping sweat, and ultimately shed all my clothes to make the work tolerable. I was worried about staining clothes and blankets with the water that poured off me.

I sent Maya to the pool with her friend Sarah while I attended my very pleasant Bikram yoga class. The heat was not working, so instead of the suffocating 110 degree temperatures, we used the 105 degree ambient temperatures, and it was much easier for me to manage. To celebrate the fourth, we met the Benichous downtown at the Science center and wandered through the crowds ( there were almost more police than visitors; I asked what the problem was and was told that this was customary for the Fourth, and that the police were present to avoid problems. After dinner at the Benichous ( where the AC was working) and our monthly Elmer visit, we returned to the harbour in Canton to watch the very spectacular fireworks.

We will miss the Benichous when we leave. They have eaten with us almost weekly for years, and the children love each other. I am not sure we will find a family quite like them.

We came home from the fireworks celebration to find the lights on and the AC working downstairs. Yeah!

Dark Ages

When we arrived late Sunday night, it was adventuresome to look for flashlights and sleep in the soft light of vanilla scented candles. It was too hot to sleep, but we ripped off the blankets and slept on cool sheets with minimal clothing. Meals had to be in restaurants, but that was not as pleasant because the nearby places were not very interesting anymore, and homemade food is yummier. The worst part was the morning, when it was impossible to stay cool, and getting dressed in clean clothes and sweating profusely was frustrating. But it was still sort of fun for a day or two. Throwing out all the food was disheartening, and calling BGE and being told there was no way to predict when the power would return, was particularly disturbing.

After three days without power, I was feeling antsy. I like having electricity, and I miss it. I do not want to admit that I need power, that I miss power. I thought I would be just fine without power, that I ought to be oblivious, but after these three incredibly hot and miserable days, I am desperate for power. Perhaps the heat is what is most distressing. When we lived in Ecuador, the dam near Cuenca, the ONLY source of (hydroelectric) power in the country, was dry after a season of drought. For months and months in the winter/spring (it is always spring in Quito) we had six hours of power a day. At first it was disconcerting, because I never knew when we would have power. It was not difficult to adjust with meals, because we had a tiny stove, and were accustomed to keeping small amounts in the fridge anyway. So we shopped a small amount daily, and ate what we bought. Eric was amazing in that he used a small solar panel to run the internet and the computers, so we never did not have power. In time, the local newspaper would announce the times that the power would be on for which neighbourhood, so we knew when to expect the times we could use appliances. We adjusted, and our lives worked with the predictability. Of course, sometimes the announced times were wrong, and that was a source of chuckles and shrugs, but mostly we figured out how to live without regular power. I am sure there were many complaints, but no revolution ensued, and people appeared to be fine. Many businesses had generators, so restaurants and bars and clubs continued to function.

I do not remember being unduly distressed without power in Quito. Life went on, we all were in the same boat, we managed our lives without. I guess here in Baltimore, Maya and I have continued our lives quite the same as before. I have friends who are staying in hotels, and others who encourage us to stay with them because they have power. I choose to stay at home with the cats. I like that I am going to sleep earlier than usual because it is too dark to accomplish much in the evening.

I have never lived anywhere that had such difficulty maintaining power. Baltimore is in the dark ages, both figuratively and literally. Most modern cities have buried power lines (not Baltimore or Quito), so power outages are not the norm. I ought to be used to this, it happens altogether too often.

Inferno

Soccermania