An Ode to Mud

Exhibit A: Watch where you walk!
It's very squishy and slippery!

I thought I knew what mud was—back in Wisconsin: that slightly inconvenient, make-sure-you-wipe-your-feet-off-before-you-come-in-the-house type of mud. But really I knew nothing…maybe even less than nothing. When you live in a country where it rains pretty much every afternoon, you end up with a lot of mud. And generally it doesn’t just rain nice and gentle and stop after an hour or two—it pours. Hard. Sometimes for several hours, and, in the case of a couple weeks ago, for several days in a row.

Do You Hear What I Hear?

Any community has a certain set of noises or sounds that are “normal” and expected. At some point after you've lived in one place for a number of months or years, you may not really hear or notice those sounds anymore. Maybe it’s the sound of birds chirping outside the kitchen window, traffic going passed the window in your office, or even the sounds that your house makes. Ukarumpa is no different; there are several sounds that, to me, emphasize where I am and why I’m here.

Bread and Tacos and Cookies, Oh My!

One of my better loaves of bread

If you know me at all, you know that I have lots of adventures—generally having to do with either cars or cooking. Since I don’t drive a manual, or have any desire to deal with a vehicle here, this post is about, you guessed it…cooking! Most of my “adventures” in the kitchen back home involved burned food, courtesy of me getting a little too engrossed in whatever I was currently reading. I’m happy to report that I haven’t been burning my meals—especially since I’ve (finally!) figured out the ins and outs of the gas oven.