Settling In....

After nine more nights in a hotel, Charlie and I officially moved into our place this past Tuesday.  It feels good to be home, even if home is pretty much empty and we are sleeping on an air mattress.  I could have stayed in a hotel until they deliver my things on Monday, but I just couldn't stand Charlie being so close and not being able to see him everyday.

Our first night, Tropical Storm Emily was on her way.  The governor called a meeting and let all the federal employees go home early, encouraging the private sector to do the same.  We got dismissed at three.  (Which was handy, since I had to leave then anyhow to be home for the kennel to drop off Charlie.)  I stood on my patio for an hour and a half that night watching the sunset.  We got a lot of rain the next day, but the whole event felt slightly familiar.  Ahhh….it's like listening to the news in DFW when they are forecasting snow.  However, with snow you can stay home and avoid it.  If it's the one in ten times the hurricane is for real, Katie bar the door.

I've seen a bit more of the greater San Juan area in the last couple of weeks.  And I'll steal a quote from a 1995 classic, Clueless.  "Don't you think she's pretty? No, she's a full on Monet.  What's a Monet?  It's like a painting, see?  From far away, it's OK, but up close, it's a big ole mess." 

On Saturday, I drove about 15 miles south to the town of Caguas because I was told it was the nicest Wal-Mart around.  And it was a nice Wal-Mart, but the drive was beautiful.  Good thing, since it took me two hours to find the Wal-Mart, but I digress.  I really wish I could afford a chauffer so that I could stare at the scenery more instead of having to drive.  Because I get to gawking at the lush, tropical, greenery and the pretty little houses tucked in the hillside…..and then BAM!!!!  I'm jolted out of my reverie when I hit an 18 inch deep pothole and worry that the entire front tire is going to come off. 

You think I exaggerate, but I swear, the potholes are out of control.  You've got to watch the sidewalks, too.  Walking out of my hotel to most of the restaurants, there's an area of sidewalk with four or five 12 by 6 inch mini-manhole covers to the water system.  One of the covers has been missing since my very first trip two months ago.  It leaves a gapping hole full of water just prime for someone to stick a foot in and break a leg.  I've found a similar situation just outside my condo, and I'm worried about Charlie because he doesn't pay attention like I do.  If a street in Anywhere, USA (and by USA I mean the 50 states) had as many road and sidewalk hazards as San Juan, you'd be walking or driving through an obstacle course of orange construction cones and yellow caution tape.  But here, you are left to fend for yourself.  Guess the Puerto Ricans aren't quite as litigious as we Americans. 

Another issue is the homeless.  I'll admit it, I'm a suburban girl.  I lived in Puyallup, WA, and left well before it had grown into what it is today.  And Flower Mound, TX, is possibly the height of middle class suburbia.  It's new, it's clean, and doesn't stand for any homeless people lurking about.  Other than my three years living close to downtown Houston, it's not something I'm used to, and even it Houston, certainly not on a daily basis.

But here, everyone has their corners, and there's one on just about every corner.  My Texas republican friends will call me a bleeding heart democrat; others will say I’m just a good person.  But I feel like if I start, I won't stop.  It's so hard to drive by them every day, knowing what that fiver in my wallet means to me and what it might mean to that guy. I see three on a regular basis before I get to the highway on my way to work. (The one in the wheelchair with the little dog of course gets to me the most.)  Quick math says even a dollar each a day is $21 a week (no weekends off), $84 a month, $1008 a year, and $3024 during my tenure in Puerto Rico.  Hmmm…..

I might start but for the fact that the woman who owns one of the distributors I work with (who's reputation is one of the kindest, most generous people you will meet) told me it's all for drugs.  There's no good system to rehabilitate anyone and the money goes straight to their fix.  So the guy with the pitiful look on his face, rubbing his stomach as I pulled out of the Burger King drive thru this morning is really just a good actor.  Half of me still wants to give him the buck if his fix lets him escape for awhile. 

The Feeling Update: still no real signs.  I've been waiting for it.  I know it can come out of nowhere and just knock the life out of you.  But the other night, I realized something.  Sure, I'm older, I'm wiser, more worldly and experienced since I last had The Feeling.  But I've also been through something since then that makes all other challenging experiences pale in comparison.  When I compare starting over in a foreign land with no family or friends to losing my mother, I'd start over every day if I could have one more with her.