Stirring the Compost

After beginning and ending the month of November with most welcome visitors from Texas and Mexico, respectively, and all the attendant activity implicit in providing a good time, I find myself idling. The date on my computer says December, yet here we enjoy perpetual summer, and my only taste of December chill is the Pittsburgh forecast I hear as I listen to WESA, the NPR provider I continue to hear (and support) via the internet.

Christmas, Shritzmas
I went cyber-shopping for holiday gifts for my son and my other Stateside family members here on my porch the other day. I have a few more things to buy locally, and although the Diriamba stores and businesses are crammed with Christmas decorations to admire and purchase, it is simply too abrupt a juxtaposition of summer heat and greenery and Santa's warm furs and sleighs, fer chrissake, to feel even a molecule of christmas spirit! Oh well, it is a holiday for me so little connected to its religious origins, and so deeply tied to my late parents, that it has meant little more than an opportunity to shower my son with gifts. And, he being elsewhere, even that pleasure has lost some of its luster.

Beautiful Church
The day before she left, friend Tey went with me to explore the big church in Diriamba, whose basilica is widely considered to be the most beautiful in the country. Pope John Paul II visited there, and the church is the home of the big Festival of San Sebastian, held over eight days each January. Here are some of Tey's photos:

Flying Machines?
Here, by the sea, I have never had so unobstructed a view of the big blue sky, and yet I never ever see a contrail of a jet passing overhead!  There simply is no coastal air corridor in this region; sometimes,in Pennsylvania, I could count eight or nine white stripes at a time of jet trails headed for Pittsburgh or Chicago or other points west. Here, I see only the rare passing of a pair of military helicopters, patrolling the coastline, I suppose. The dogs go berserk, and the noise is considerable, but it lasts only seconds, like an earthquake.

A Sense of Unsafety
The aforementioned violent murder of our Canadian neighbor ten days ago and the more recent robbery of another nearby house has put us all on edge. Our cuidador has lectured me on locking my doors punctiliously, even if I take an afternoon nap. My laptop and phone are never to be left sitting on the back porch if I am not using them, and no keys are to be left in doors.  All good advice, despite the tall wrought-iron fencing that surrounds the compound. Living in a country where so many live in wretched poverty, it is sensible to assume that some robbery, if not most, is occasioned by familial need. Desperation is a powerful force. I hope these security measures become second nature soon, as the mere act of doing them is disconcerting to my peace of mind.

Sorry
Lastly, an apology: My camera's lithium battery finally died for good, and getting a new one from the States may take some time. It has been ordered, and now I must rely on hook and crook to get it. So, unless I manage to take an acceptable shot with my phone, photos may be scarce for the nonce.