Reptiles Galore

I suppose, looking back on a day like today, that some might be tempted to conclude there would be little to write about in the blog. That there were no grand new adventures, no major mishaps or misunderstandings, no cases of cross-cultural hijinks - in short, nothing to keep the reader's interest. Well, here's what I would say to those people:

That is true.

We are ever more deeply ensconced in the groove of Condado, San Juan, Puerto Rico. The morning projects were pretty nuts-and-bolts - Janneke took Tess to do the grocery shopping (having given her a choice of which to do), and Quinn and I stayed behind and started work on Quinn's idea for a project: A cardboard mock-up of a traditional, non-haunted medieval castle. (The Project That Shall Not Be Named has been erased from all family records save this blog. And it's only still here because I haven't gotten around to deleting it yet.) Those projects went fine, though Quinn and I butted heads in the same way we usually do on these things. He wants to jump in and start drawing and cutting; I realize that if he does that without any planning, he'll hate the finished product and call himself stupid. So I talk him through some simple stuff that can make it all turn out more even, neater, more symmetrical, etc., and bore him to tears. Damned if you do, damned if you don't. The usual family drama, only played out in someone else's house. We got two perfectly even, symmetrical, crennelated castle walls done before descending into pouting, the silent treatment, and finally name-calling. And I won't even get into the awful stuff Quinn was doing.

Phase Two of the morning was to investigate the park I scouted out last night. The research reconnoiter of 9:00 yesterday yielded the following information: it is thirteen minutes away by Route 1, which I took on the go; 10 minutes away by Route 2, which I took on the way back; and a probable 8 minutes by Route 3, which the map suggested to me. Therefore, we bundled the kids into their Sunday best (even for Atheists, kind of a nice get-up) and marched down Route 3.

Route 3 makes no sense at all and leads you down blind alleys and nameless dead-ends, and in the end makes you go down Route 1, tacking on a good ten minutes extra. But once you do arrive, the park is very, very nice - with good reason: last night I saw that it has private security guards patrolling it after dusk. It's world-class: it has a gracefully sculpted picnic structure, where a birthday party was being set up; top-notch climbing structures; shady park benches galore; a long rectangle of middlingly-maintained grass for family-based sporting activities; stately tropical trees that arc benevolently over everything; and at least three works of sculpture. Plus lizards galore - the Puerto Rican Ameiva, if the first website I consulted is to be believed. (I'll gamble and say it is.) Endemic to this island, they are a member of the Teiid family. Ameiva exsul, is the latin name - and I made a scientific discovery about them myself. Which is: Those little guys pop like water balloons when you hit them with a football.

No, no, I did no such thing. We followed them around and marveled at how territorial they are with each other. They look like the couldn't possibly work up enough speed to escape from anything, the way they drag themselves about, but when one comes across another - of the same gender, I'm thinking - they bull up their necks and charge, sending little puffs of dust in all directions as they disappear from view. We saw one, and only one, that was a bluish-green for some reason. Probably some scientifi-fied reason for that, too. Somebody should look into it. Tell you what: I'll take the football back there tomorrow and see what I can find out.

The park is surrounded on all sides by semi-high-rise apartment complexes that look to have been built in the '80s. And walking there from our own highrise apartment complex, we got a tour of the history of this neighborhood, walking the last few blocks that are still single-family homes. Many of those blocks have high-rises interspersed between the homes, leaving little doubt as to the eventual fate of those still-stately mini-mansions. And they really are gorgeous, upscale homes, done in a latino style with walls all around and flat roofs and rooftop gardens. Gorgeous places. There was a banner up on one of the new highrises, and it offered another clue as to the makeup of this neighborhood: Each new apartment in there will go for $700,000. Yow. Suddenly the frequency of "perros de raza" (today we saw a shar pei, a basset hound, three English bulldogs, a French bulldog, a poodle, an Italian greyhound, and something that looked like a skink) makes more sense - These are wealthy folks, who by and large don't go in for mutts. We are in some very rarified socio-economic air here, and it's going to be fascinating to get out into the real Puerto Rico, starting tomorrow, and see how it feels.

Phase Three of the day: Lunch. Thrown off completely by Tess falling asleep in the stroller, despite the sun (we'd neglected to bring her sun shield along). So she napped while we ate, and then I volunteered to stay behind until she woke up while Janneke and Quinn hit the beach. I'm still nursing a headache (though it wasn't enough to prevent me from giving the EBCRD a good workout this morning), probably surf-induced. It gets worse when I swim - which I hate, because one of my favorite little daily rituals lately is my nautral history discussions with Quinn as he rides me piggy-back over wave after wave. Today we talked about land animals that slowly evolve into sea animals, like whales and walruses. We were kicking around ideas of other animals that could do it, and we invented a long, snake-like, sea-going crocodile that gives birth to its young alive, skipping the eggs and thus eliminating any need to go ashore ever. But the roar and the pounding of the surf just get the head to pounding - I hope I feel better tomorrow.

But anyway, once Tess woke up and had her lunch, we were all reunited on the beach, where endless hours of fun ensued. But you'll have to take my word for it - we took no pictures.

I mean, not one! Not any photographic evidence at all that this day ever even happened! Can you believe it? OK, OK, I can hear the clamoring. So I tell you what I'll do: I'll go film Quinn and Tess right now, and pop it up on Youtube. Okay? Will that soothe the pangs for Johnstadt-related imagery? I mean, I don't actually know what's happening in there. They should be asleep, but it might be a little ugly. Be prepared - I make no guarantees:




Frightening stuff, I agree. Granny, I did get them each to say "Buenas noches, Granny". See if you can pick it up by reading lips!

And before I say goodnight, I'll pop one more photo on here that's actually from last night. Just an added little bonus to show that every penny you spend on this blog goes to hard-hitting, unbiased news coverage.

Hasta manana!



Quinn describing his haunted house to me, me taking notes.
Ironic: In 30 years, he'll be in the same position,
talking about this same event, only instead of me,
it'll be his therapist in the foreground.