It burns, burns, burns.

Ah, the cool breeze of April in Quebec. My folks are gossiping in the kitchen, blue grass music is playing on the radio, and I can sit down and write about the past couple of weeks. I'm not exhausted any more, I don't have to schedule some fun activity like kayaking or hiking. Coming back home feels very good indeed. I love travelling, but every minute away is spent agonizing about whether we're really making the most of our time: Is that beach OK? Should we drive further to see if the next one is better? Are we paying too much for that sailing trip? Is 10 bucks too much money for mofungo and pollo (mashed plantain and chicken)?

If you're thinking of going away on vacation where it's warmer and where they don't have any Starbucks, let's me tell you a little secret: Go to Vieques and El Yunque National Forest in Puerto Rico. I'll give you adresses of houses you can rent for very little money. The view from your house will get stuck in you brain forever, and you will fall in love with Sammy the dog in Vieques. The constant breeze will make you comfortable even though it's scorching hot outside. People will be nice to you and offer you a ride if you can't find a taxi to the airport.

First it was hiking. The rainforest, people. They don't tell you this over at Frommers. The Caribbean is a wonderful place not because of the beaches or the turquoise water, but the tropical forest. Sure, snorkeling is nice, but if you are like me and you hate getting sand in your shorts, head to the mountains and find a waterfall. We did, with a guide. It was a bit scary climbing rocks in my bare feet (i was shaking like a leaf)

Then it was surfing. I am not very good with large bodies of water. The significant other tried to teach me surfing, but I could only kneel on the large platform before my lack of enthusiasm sent me crashing in the surf. After swallowing at least 5 liters of water I decided to throw in the towel. So I smiled an apologetic smile and say, "Um, maybe next week?". Never one to lament for too long over a half-empty glass -- or at least I try -- I proceeded to show my beloved how masterful yours truly is on the boogie board. If you're wondering what a boogie board is, well it's much like surfing, except you don't have to stand up on your board. Basically it's for wusses. But I'd rather be a master on the boogie board, than a clumsy mess on the surf board. So there.

Then it was snorkeling. Thinking about how I loved the rain, the forest, the rainforest, the frogs, the birds, the flowers and trees, I felt guilty for now enjoying the corals more. Failing to have an epiphany while watching the tropical fishes in a timely fashion, I tried to brush aside my indifference of the aquatic life and got to work on a sailing/snorkeling day-trip to the tip of the Bermuda Triangle. It was a magical ride and the journey to the snorkeling stop was more enjoyable than the stop itself, witch consisted of watching some fishes through a mask, and trying not to find scary ones. At that point, I found myself at a crossroads: I could either a) move forward with the fish watching at the risk of encountering a shark (not uncommon over there), or b) chicken out, and head back to the boat to enjoy a complimentary rhum punch with the captain. And well, I, um, chickened out.

Then it was reading. I read four books: Into Thin Air, Trois jours chez ma mère, La traduction est une histoire d'amour and Running to the Mountain: a Mid-Life Adventure. Google them if you're interested. They are all very good.

Then it was over.

Pictures up soon.