This blog post will be excessively about me, because for the first time in the trip, there are quite a few photos of myself. Usually, I am the one behind the camera, because lo! the motorcycle has exploded! Eek! the motorcycle has died on the highway! Egads! the motorcycle needs more work! That is when Ben is fixing the motorcycle, so there are plenty of glamor shots with him up to his elbows in, well, elbow grease. Therefore, I feel no shame in producing this Jen-tastic blog post, because I have a substantial number of photos of me looking fairly lovely and I must take advantage of the opportunity to narrate them. This weekend, we decided to get out of Gulu and Tessa's hair--we've been here too long and I am already getting nostalgic for being here, an oxymoron, because we haven't really left yet. This is what happened in Galveston though, and I can just taste Mexico; Gulu and Tessa live less than fifteen minutes from the border, as the crow flies. So we traveled east to Boca Chica State Park, which first required Ben and I finding lots of phone numbers for the Texas State Park folks--Boca Chica is listed on regular maps, but it is unlisted on the Texas State Parks website. It is one of those liminal places where people can go, for free, and camp there, probably forever if they wanted to, in a tent. Not that you would want to do that. There aren't really rules there. Too many people leave trash at the beach, or as we found out, even worse: too many people listen to trashy trance music blasted on their car subwoofers at two in the morning on the beach. Otherwise, it is a beautiful, lunar landscape at night, and a hazy, limitless distance of sand, ocean and blazing sky during the day. On the way to the beach, I was stung by a bee! I had to finally use our designated emergency signal--me patting/smacking Ben repeatedly on the back until he pulled over. This was very effective. Good response time, Ben! We pulled over, I jumped off, and had him pull the stinger out of my wrist. Mom: Good news, I am not allergic to bees. Then with his help, I bandaged myself up with a get-better-you-deserve-it Hello Kitty band-aid:  We got to the beach right as the sun was setting, and we drove up and down the packed sand, until we decided we should park as close to the dunes as possible, to avoid the tide line. We, of course, got stuck. Then with the help of some plastic soda bottles and Yankee ingenuity, we got ourselves unstuck. We headed back to the paved road and parked there, finding ourselves a nice spot where we could see the ocean, the beach, and especially the motorcycle from the front flap of the tent:  The first day we got up before the sun rose. This photo was taken at sunrise, which is why I look out of my mind, and Ben looks ecstatic:
 We spent the first day trying to find clams (there aren't clams in the Gulf, by the way), and then later oysters. We found an oyster bed with helpful advice from a Winter Texan, but all of the oyster shells were filled with mud, but mysteriously still held together. I sunk into the mud at one point up to my knees and had to get Ben to save me by pulling me out. After we were both cut and bleeding and without a single oyster to our name, we decided this was probably a Bad Idea and gave up.
For the rest of our three nights and two days on the beach, we spent a lot of time cooking:
a lot of time catching tiny animals (and setting them free):
a lot of time staring at pelicans: a lot of time getting sunburnt; some time collecting interesting seashells: and only a bit of time contemplating this creepy eyeless, babydoll head on a cross before we decided to leave it, and the two other memorial crosses, to be creepy by themselves:   The babydoll cross is the only thing that trumps availability of multiple photos of myself to strew across this post.
On the second full day, we headed over to Port Isabel, to see the lighthouse, where Ben took some nice photos of me: the lighthouse: of me: a fake pirate galleon that we could see from the top of the lighthouse:  and a series (to be fully uploaded once we get some good Internet access) of ridiculous pictures of him, and me: Later we headed to South Padre Island, to figure out what all the tourist hubbub was about. South Padre Island was uneventful, except for a last minute conversation with two college professors. If you are reading this, hello! Maybe we'll see you in Guatemala, Fernando? They were hilarious, and saved South Padre Island at the last minute from being a charmless, history-less, friendless version of Galveston Island. On the way back to Gulu and Tessa's, we stopped at a barbecue joint and split a brisket sandwich. There we met Joel and his son Tevin, who rides bulls for fun!!! He is maybe three-quarters my size, half my age and already way more badass then I am. Actually, this photo trumps the babydoll photos. Do you see the look on his face? That is the face of a genuine bull rider: Smoking Joe's was just off the side of the road, somewhere between Mission and Brownsville on Route 281. Here is a photo, so when you are going there to eat barbecue, you will know it when you see it:  We also got to take a photo with Smoking Joe himself, in front of huge his carousel smoker: This was a success, as Ben and I had had some lousy barbecue in Kingsville, TX. This redeemed Texas barbecue in Ben's eyes. Mine, too, but I haven't eaten enough barbecue to really know anything about it except that this barbecue was really fantastic and its crossed our minds to "accidentally" end up back on Route 281. So hello! and thanks for the good food, Joel, Tevin and Joe. Whew. If a photo is worth a thousand words, then I must've written a dissertation. Ha, ha. Love, Jen.
Tonight is our last night in Galveston for a while. We went to Pho 20 (ha, ha) for dinner and we saw Margaret and Travis there. And so we ate first dinner with them. And then Lindsey and Sandra walked in, but we were about to leave, so we didn't have dinner with them. Ben and I know maybe fifteen people on this island. And four of them walked into the same restaurant tonight. Then went to the Panaderia on Broadway across from the Vietnamese restaurant and got some really delicious pastries. The best part was that the lady running the cash register didn't speak English and for like the first time EVER (except with maybe Mama Anaya, my childhood friend Liz's Ecuadorian mother) Ben and I got to speak in Spanish with someone who actually wanted to talk to us in Spanish! This may sound like I am being a ridiculous gringa, because, well, I am. But to be able to have someone listen to you and be nice to you and speak slowly for your benefit is just SO GOOD. Like warm fuzzies. Because she was thrilled that we spoke Spanish (however badly) and pleased that we took the effort to talk to her even though someone was willing to translate for both sides. We were thrilled that she would take the time to listen to us and was so nice and understood that our toddler Spanish required us to speak stiltedly. Or maybe it was just because she was such a sweet lady and she smiled at us and you don't get people this nice on an everyday basis selling you these huge delicious pastries called " besos" (kisses), " concha blancas" (white shells), and " tortugas" (turtles). Then we went back to see Katie and have second dinner/dessert which was vegetable soup (oh so good on a cold night!) and delicious pumpkin bread with a million mini chocolate chips. I am still ill from over-eating two hours later. We are going to be coming back here soon though, for the Galveston Song Off! on a Wednesday after the New Year. It is tentatively looking like it is going to be held at the Old Quarter Acoustic Club down by The Grand Opera House during Open Mic Night. In case you or someone you know would like to participate: you have to write a song about Galveston. I, being totally inept at "real" music, am making a song for tape. Similar to how some songs are made for a string quartet, this is a song that I am making on Audacity and that I am going to burn onto CD so that I can hit play and stand there awkwardly as everyone stares at me. IT IS GOING TO BE THE BEST!!! I WILL POST IT HERE AFTER IT DEBUTS. Anyways. We're off tomorrow for Conroe, Texas to spend the night at Katie's house (Katie is a Couchsurfer and our current "neighbor." John is her boyfriend and the Couchsurfer we're staying with who lives next door.) I heard there is going to be a bonfire and it is going to be cute and I imagine because everyone is musical (except me; except when I get to sing "The Sun Will Come Out Tomorrow" while inebriated) there will be music, too. More on that when it happens. In the meanwhile, I am skirting cleaning work while Ben cleans to "Hey Jude." I imagine his little black turtleneck sleeves are rolled up and his handsome, muscular arms are in soapy water. Ahem. :D Also! A photograph of home from Jared, who I guess is in New Orleans right now?:  If you can't figure it out, it is the streetcar (I presume the St. Charles line) decked out for Christmas. It always has little garlands tacked to the forest green exterior, too and it rattles up and down the track. It is just adorable and makes me miss New Orleans and everyone I love in it. One of my least favorite things about travel is missing the people and places you've visited, even if it was just for a short period of time, sometimes just a layover. Facebook photographs are even worse--all of your damned friends having fun without you; the photographs are almost taken close together enough that you can see the jerks dancing in their kimonos if you flash through the images quickly enough. On certain days when the wind hits you with just the right amount of chill and humidity I can be brought back to a midnight stop at a railroad station on the border of France and Spain or a particular day in Connecticut where I was working on the high school newspaper or a cold winter bike ride in New Orleans in glitter eye makeup and a ridiculous outfit (not necessarily Mardi Gras, probably just any old Friday night). And sometimes I am even transported to the lousy days that I'd rather not remember. Whatever and whenever they were, I am a sucker for nostalgia and I leave a little piece of myself everywhere I go and I just can't seem to collect them back up. I think Galveston is growing on me like that. Love, Jen
 I don't know a lot about a lot, but what I do know about is how to make good food. Ben and I are working on our gourmet cookery over a camp stove because otherwise we would be eating those weird dehydrated foods that you find at your local camping store. They are gross and expensive! Don't do it! And when you instead turn to the cookbook selection, skip those, too. They tend to either require weird dehydrated unprepared food and Bisquick. Just say no and use common sense. So on one camera happy morning while we were still in Lake Fausse Pointe State Park in Louisiana (outside of St. Martinville), we took a lot of photos of our meal and the set up. This is obviously not for the intrepid hiker climbing Mt. Everest, but we can go about three days without needing supplies, provided that we can carry enough water and go prepared, rather than willy-nilly, although the latter is usually the case.
 This is me probably not preparing food, but probably preparing to eat it. I am only really competent enough in the morning to be a sous chef at best. But this is the best photo regarding layout. You can see here (from right to left):
-Our little Costa Rican coffee filter
-The top of our thermos
-Milk
-The handle to the pot
-The French Toast cooking
-The honey behind it
-The butter
-The coffee thermos
You wouldn't think it, but contrary to what your mother told you, it is ok to eat dairy and eggs well after they've been sitting out overnight. We've been blessed/tormented with some cold weather lately, and that has been helping us keep our dairy and eggs, too. Ben actually likes his cheese to sit out a bit. It gets stinkier and he likes that. I live with it, but when it starts to sweat, I'd rather cook it up, just because the texture tends to have a weird mouthfeel. Don't knock it 'til you try it. Butter is especially long lasting--it will stay for just about forever. And unlike oil, it is more versatile, tastes better and tends to leak less, because unless it is a hot, hot summer, it will probably be solid or semi-solid in a sealed, water-tight container. When we buy animal products to eat, we tend to eat them up fast. A half dozen eggs becomes part of a meal of French Toast, usually with a loaf of bread we've been carrying around too long and the milk leftover from coffee. The leftover eggs make for hard-boiled eggs (uck), egg salad (ok), fried egg sandwiches (good) or omelettes (my preferred method).
 First we cut up a bunch of fruit into bite-sized pieces. This time it was plums and apples. Berries, stone fruit, bananas or whatever you've got on hand would be delicious. Cranberries are in season right now and they tend to cook a bit different from other fruits: you can stew them down into a delicious mess that is somewhere between a compote and a freshly made jam. Oranges or any other citrus fruit would be good, too. Or, consider zesting a bit of orange (nothing fancy, just scrape your pocket knife, serrated or straight, or use a metal fork and make do) into cranberries or any fruit that would benefit from a bit of citrus. We saute the fruit in a little butter until they're tender, but not overcooked. There is a spectrum of sauteing fruit: delicious apple pie-styled apples, gross apple mush and smooth applesauce. Aim for either end, and don't get stuck in the mushy baby food middle. We throw this when it's done into a little tinfoil because we don't have anywhere else to stick it. From there, we mix together three eggs, a couple splashes of milk and our sweet spice mix of cinnamon, cloves and allspice into our big pot. This gets beat with a fork until it is well mixed and a bit frothy. Low on eggs or on milk? Sub in a bit more of the other to even it out. You could probably even thin it all out with a bit of water if you're trying to stretch what you've got.
 This is made in the "saute" pan (i.e. the shallower pan). Slick it up with a bit of butter and get cooking. Make sure to cook it all the way through, you can turn down the heat or put on the lid to assure that you don't get a soggy middle. This is especially important when you've been carrying your dairy and eggs for several days because you don't want to mess with salmonella in the middle of the woods.
We then take the finished toast and put a few scoopfuls of fruit on top, and we pour on the honey. You can use maple syrup, agave nectar or throw in some brown or white sugar into the fruit right before taking it off the heat. Add water if it needs to be more syrupy. Fold up the sides and eat it taco style to avoid knives and forks and a much greater than necessary mess. This fills the both of us up pretty well, adjust accordingly for the number of your party.
Love, Jen
|
