Rain forests and Raw pizzas: Mountain life in Puerto Rico

Written Saturday:


This evening I showered with a frog.

He sat there all moist, black bead eyes regarding me, his little pink-
tan body almost translucent and his little lungs plugging in and out
stretching his skin. His toes had little grippy balls at the end. We
enjoyed each others company for a while, then I toweled off and left.

You see, we're at the mountain house bed and breakfast now, staying in
a cabin on the property. I woke up and stepped out of the little
doored bedroom I was sharing, and into what was essentially the rain
forest. The rest of the cabin was so open-air that I could stand at
the kitchen sink brushing my teeth and be inundated by this great
clambering green thickness of forest. Vines, bananas, ferns, epiphytes
(plants growing on other plants), palms....  Any human complaint I
might have had was grasped in this green glory and I celebrated the
diversity of life. Imagine how motivated, inspired, creative we might
be if we could find this intimacy with stunning nature so frequently.

I saw two shooting stars tonight, padding out on the road between the
orange trees, craning my neck into the brilliant display above. So
bright, all these patterns and formations I usually cannot detect. And
the fire flies here! They don't blink! They stay lit steadily for some
time, until they need a breather or whatever, and then they'll turn
off at leisure.

There is such pleasure in sitting back after a day's work in the
garden, watching the light dissipate, and hearing the critters and
chirping frogs begin their endless symphonic chorus of the dark. This
is quite loud. Almost like my ears are ringing or I have some sort of
strange headache.

The tenacious abundance of life! Sun and heat and water and here is
this indefatigable reminder that things yearn to grow and multiply and
exist. And in that they are beautiful.

Riding in the back of a little pick-up truck to load gravel to fix the
potholes in the road, zipping along the mountain side, under banana
trees and citrus. Mr. Owner, our driver, stops besides a mandarin tree
and we pluck a few off and the ride got that much tastier. Like the
tropical equivalent of my childhood joy, decidedly upstate NY, of hay
rides in someones trailer, munching on apples.

Epiphyte: noun. A plant that grows on another plant, epi = "on", phyte
= "plant". Usage: "That epiphyte in that tree is the epitome of
beautiful!"

Epibhyte: noun. When a fire ant bites you on top of a mosquito bite.
Usage: "My ankle now is actually a conglomeration of epibhytes." Also:
"My epibhytes kept me from sleeping well."



This is a bed and breakfast that caters to people with vegan,
vegetarian, raw, gluten free, food-free (heh) diets. The next guests
are raw ("as opposed to broiled or baked guests" quipped Lady Elise;
"I'm Raw" does indeed sound stranger than "I'm Vegetarian") and so
today Mrs Owner brought us down two Raw Gluten-Free Pizzas to try.

Now, everyone has freedom to choose their own eating styles (you can
tease me about my kale and popcorn anytime), but I am of the opinion
that to be defined as "pizza", a thing should include a few key
components. Like a crusty wheat crust. And tomatoes. And melty cheese.
And be hot.

This thing was round, and had tomatoes. But besides that, it was not
at all like a pizza. The crust was made of flax and rice; on top was
chayote (a white, crunchy, and tasteless number grown in the tropics)
and tomatoes and tiny olive pieces. To be considered technically
"raw", food must not reach above 114 degrees F, as at this temperature
some key enzymes are killed. So this pizza never saw the heat of an
oven; instead it rested demurely on the hood of the car in the sun.

And it was delicious. Surprisingly delicious, once I renamed it Flax
Tomato Round. I found myself eating fall-aparty slice after fall-
aparty slice. It didn't feel heavy or greasy or sodden, like regular
pizza might. It was salty and chewy in the right way, a little hint of
garlic and herbs.

And I felt light and airy and not overfull.

Airy indeed. I was soon experiencing wildly voluminous flatulence. I
imagine all that flax and fibre and garlic bobbing directionless
around my gut, blowing happy bubbles.