I’ve been pro-caffeinating over this post for more then a month. Pro-caffeinating is the act of procrastinating while imbibing caffein. It has to do with our visit to Peru, specifically Cuzco and Machu Picchu. I’ve experienced a bit of consternation over the presentation of this story. I don’t want to spend time and overload it with pictures, but I want to convey what the experience meant to me. With that expressed, let’s get to it.
It was one of those ads on cable, or in our case satellite, pushing a fiber supplement. This particular supplement is a fruit flavored gummy, like a candy with benefits. Being of an age that the occasional use of a fiber supplement can be a good thing, I headed off to the local CVS to purchase some.
When I was growing up, my dad used quite a bit of alcohol until he decided it wasn’t a good thing and quit. He took up candy as a substitute. One of his favorite sweets was jujubes; a staple of a Saturday afternoon trip to the Kesarge Theater for a movie. I remember those candies for their flavor and ability to last. It’s a lasting flavor as the candy fills every little crevasse, every space in your teeth, until your salivary glands create enough spit to dissolve and wash away the remnants.
Home again from shopping, I break into the package. Let’s see what we’ve got. A bit bigger then a jujube, but very similar in color, as I selected a red one. At first bite, the texture is not quite that of the almost always stale jujube chew, but the flavor is spot on. It tastes red, just like it’s supposed to. The taste lingers as fragments cling to the surfaces in my mouth. It leaves a taste that commands another tasting.
I’ll be right back. Whew, I feel much better now.
So if the red was good, what’s the green one like? Same sort of staleness, not quite fresh, but not a soft chew. What’s better is the flavor. It tastes just like, well, just like green. You know, it could be apple, but maybe with a hint of lime. Maybe it’s kiwi or watermelon, regardless, it’s sweet and it’s green and it’s stuck in my teeth. My taste buds crave one more. So I tried yellow.
Hang on, I’ll be right back. Whew, that helped.
Ok, so where was I? Oh yeah, I tried a yellow. Maybe another red. Ok, another green. Hey, there’s a blue. What’s it like? Is that another yellow? Yum. It was a reenactment of a matinee and soon my container of fiber laden jujubes was gone.
I think the acronym is AFK, regardless I’m indisposed for a moment. Hey, I’m back again, for how long I’m not sure. By the way, a word to the wise. I don’t care how long the vent fan has been on, you don’t want to go into that room right now.
As the song goes, I was up on the roof, which I tend to pronounce “ruff,” much to the dismay of a Canadian friend. It seems the pronunciation guide for roof shows the double oo with either a longum (a single horizontal bar across both o’s) or a double breve (the little smile above both o’s). The longum would indicate a pronunciation similar to boot, while the double breve would be more like the word took. Regardless, I was atop the motorhome, scrubbing that surface which protects us from the environment and on which the A/C, antenna and vents are located.
Rising from my hands and knees for a break and to stretch my back for a moment, I glanced around the campground. Other RVs were obviously long term residents, their tops black with sap and soot, littered with leaves. Despite recent heavy rains, the debris remains, creating the stains of nature. I stand directly under an oak, it’s branches heavy with acorns, green with youth, still firmly attached and not yet ready for the squirrels to collect. Another oak, just across the way, has begun to don it’s fall foliage. The topmost leaves have foregone the summer green for the autumnal red and soon will be the first to fall.
I’m thinking it’s too soon, not yet, stay summer. I’m not ready for fall. When fall comes to the eastern mountains, it is most spectacular. Color explodes from the varieties of green which have been on display since late spring. I’m looking forward to fall, just not yet.
Buildings appeared abandoned, until you saw the laundry hanging on the line.
A wall mural in downtown Quito
It takes five officers to fix a flat
Love the pink pumps
Photos compliments of C. Savage; lifeinanrv.tumblr.com
We had spent a couple of hours on the path around Lake Limpiopungo at Cotopaxi, south of Quito. One could say it was a “walk in the park”, but I won’t. With the completion of our walk, we were back in the warmth of the bus. Our next stop would be at a hacienda for lunch.
It’s Tuesday and we’re back in Quito, on our way to Cotopaxi National Park. This will be another elevation change for us. While Carol and I are handling the elevation swings well, some of us still experience altitude difficulties. We’ve gone from near sea level in Houston, TX., to over 9000 feet in Quito with some excursions to nearly 12,000.