Slept about 4 and a half uncomfortable hours last night what with my congested nose and one barely open and functioning nostril and the two bricks that the hotel provided I use as pillows. They did give me a kingsized bed, but it went to waste as I normally sleep in an itty bitty corner of any bed. The wakeup call came in at about 5:45 a.m. I answered the phone and dreamed I said something along the lines of "Humpherglibberumph", but it was probably an unearthly "Gracias". Stretched, haphazardly scratched my head, butt, and eyes, got up and walked to the window where I opened the curtains to witness an astonishing sunrise. The mountain scattered with both shanty towns and skyscapers jumbled together like a sancocho, abruptly gave way to the ocean colored a lovely amber all aglitter, the sun a perfect molten orbe inches above the horizon bathing everything in gold. "Dammit, I should have brought my camera!" I inwardly wailed and cursed, but I guess somethings are just meant to reside only in your memories.
After gaping out the window for a minute or two I zombie-walked to the bathroom where I turned on the shower and noticed that though the cold water came gushing out, all I could coax from the hot water was a steady little hot stream and no matter what macalucia* I did or how far I turned the knob, it refused to give me more than just a pitiful little spurt. I gave up, turned off the cold water and put the hot water at full flow jumped into the shower and proceeded to give myself an indian bath. All I needed was a totuma and I would have been set. I got out of the very dissapointing shower not quite awake, stumbled into my hosiery and underthings, and proceeded to my morning work ritual**: makeup, what my mom calls "Putting on your face" and hair which is sometimes a braid,
* Macalucia is what we would say as kids when a friend or foe was about to do something that we really didn't want them to score at. For example: shooting a freethrow in basketball. You can either chant it out loud or whisper it under your breath. I guess it's supposed to give the person bad luck, make them lose their concentration, or make something good happen for one's self. Kind of like shouting "pitcher has a big butt" at softball games or saying, "Come on baby you can do it" when your car is failing to start and all it's doing is sput-sput-sputtering.
** Morning work ritual differs greatly with my non-working morning ritual which usually conists of sleeping in late into the morning/early afternoon, wandering about in my pajamas, showering, spending another long time wandering about in my robe until momentum or great need takes over and I run out, late and stressed, to do a variety of errands.
