“You have heard the coqui? It is the Puerto Rico frog. If you take it from Puerto Rico, it dies. I am like this frog. If you take me away, I die.” (Tour Guide at the Tibes Indigenous Ceremonial Center)
Lunch at a lechonera: roast pork, blood sausage, cassava, rice and beans, amarillos. A mountain road is not conducive to digestion.
What is around Guanica: Feral dogs, friendly and with pups, cactus growing tall red fruits like fezzes, conch dressed with mayonnaise and stuffed in mofongo, mahogany plantations left to wild, public beaches, sailboats, mosquitos, Finlandia vodka, mofongo, mosquitos, Medalla Light, mofongo, mofongo, an empty eggshell of horizon bordered by the sea.
What is mofongo? Mofongo is green plantain fried and mashed and flavored with garlic.
In Ponce there is a protest. The US government is holding a political prisoner. I am eating an almond …
Welcome to my notebook. If it had a body beyond code, it would be bound in marbled cardboard, missing a few pages and spotted with coffee, weathered around the edges but wiser for it. I would carry it with me into the field, into libraries and diners and motel lobbies. It would walk with me, live and age with me, receive my spontaneous thoughts and offer quiet company. If it had a paper spine, my book would be a private and selfish thing made for silent conversation. In a digital form, the notebook is captive at home but available everywhere. The virtual book can be public, collaborative, and open to dialogue.
In the past, I’ve collected essays, rants, and restaurant reviews under the title, “Blog.” No essays, rants, or restaurant reviews to be found here though, nor any other formal writing. …