Tuesday, May 18, 2004
Last night I made Joe play a game. He's not one for my silly antics, but sometimes in the name of being a good friend, he humors me. We played the 5 senses in Puerto Rico game.
We decided:
Puerto Rico sounds like the song of the coquis and waves crashing.
Puerto Rico smells like saltwater and at times sulfur (over Road #2 by the factories, you just want to curl up and die).
Puerto Rico tastes like (ok, here's where the game ended because we just started talking about food that tastes different here than anywhere else) mangoes, avocados, tostones, pinchos, piraguas, Coronas, yucca, rice, beans, and cilantro.
If I had to finish . . .
Puerto Rico looks like blue-- blue ocean, blue sky, the bluest of all blues.
Puerto Rico feels like sun on your back, sand between your toes, and a crowded dance club.
Someone remind me that this world is not my home and as Christians we are strangers everywhere we go . . .
We decided:
Puerto Rico sounds like the song of the coquis and waves crashing.
Puerto Rico smells like saltwater and at times sulfur (over Road #2 by the factories, you just want to curl up and die).
Puerto Rico tastes like (ok, here's where the game ended because we just started talking about food that tastes different here than anywhere else) mangoes, avocados, tostones, pinchos, piraguas, Coronas, yucca, rice, beans, and cilantro.
If I had to finish . . .
Puerto Rico looks like blue-- blue ocean, blue sky, the bluest of all blues.
Puerto Rico feels like sun on your back, sand between your toes, and a crowded dance club.
Someone remind me that this world is not my home and as Christians we are strangers everywhere we go . . .
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