Tengo la peor mala pinta del mundo. I look terrible (not a very expressive translation but roughly eso).
The otro lado del río is like a tropical - well not really a tropical forest - tropical bushes-by-the-river. María told me to call Jose Luis if I wanted to go to the futbol campo (actually go to the field to watch a game), and they were all going for drinks beforehand, so I could go meet them, but to call Jose. Jose had texted me that we'll talk later, but I am not about to invite myself with someone when that specific person has not invited me. So I went for a walk by the river instead. Things may be different in this group... they know each other so well and know what each other is doing often, they were talking, and perhaps she related the invitation to me. I am guessing. I cannot apply my Canadian rules to social situations here. But when in doubt I'll be on the safe side.
I went over the pedestrian bridge and then through the gated gardens on the other side, in the "American" part. A sign said they have various riverside plants, including a chopo/chodo/choto/chupo tree from Canada. I am not aware of any such tree, but then again, I'm sure they have strange names for our trees. There were enormous mounds (bushes) of a various types of plants we think of as annuals in Vancouver, and can only grow in the very height of summer with our fingers crossed and our tongues held the right way. The honeysuckle vines are in full bloom, bougainvillea are crawling over everything, forming numerous enormous bushes beside the bridge entrance. The thing I can't remember starts with a "la-" and comes in red/orange and purple/yellow. It was getting towards dusk and there were some birds unlike anything I've heard since being in China. Their "song" (more like a teasing, witty dialogue) can be extremely loud and sharp, and at times can crescendo from nothing to a loud trill, but with personality. There is a large range of sounds they made. They seem far more human than bird, and remind me of some kinds of human only found here in the Mediterranean - like the guy I met the other night - teasing and unabashed and insistent; rascally. Like a very creative, loud kid, playing. The bird was exactly like that. Both the man and the bird are way outside the box of possibilities that I am aware of for men and birds. I looked for a long time before I saw one. It was very plain and fairly small, like the size of a finch, and looked similar.
It wasn't all that warm yesterday, as it had been raining and there was a small storm in the early evening. All this tropical splendour is lovely, but last night at 11:30 I involuntarily yelled when I saw a large cockroach crawling on our counter. Luckily for me, Alicia had gotten home earlier, and told me, "tranquila". No pasa nada... Then all night I could hear a mosquito buzzing and my only thought was, "just don't bite my eye". Wouldn't you know it, this morning I've got a hideous puffy, red eye.
By the way, the nasturtiums near the Triana bridge have been blooming in huge mounds for quite a few weeks already. They may be just about past.
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