I was sleeping like a small soft log when, around 5am, the herd of other-guests started trickling home from their night on the town. At first, my ceiling thundered as some of them rolled their way into bed, in the room directly upstairs. Then, the rest of them, all guffawing-drunk, decided to sit in the living room (right outside my door) and bellow. Occasionally someone would shush the group, and be duly ignored. I was too groggy and too timid to go tell a pack of maybe-belligerent drunks to shut the hell up in Spanish.
Around 10am, they all woke up and resettled in the living room, hollering more soberly about their plans for the day. I waited until they had left to get up, not in the mood to feign politeness, and feeling as though I hadn’t slept at all. I went to fix my breakfast, and discovered they had stolen a third of my brand-new loaf of banana bread. Of course, this is not the end of the world, but it’s still irritating. I stomp my little feet.
My plan for the day was to buckle down and finish next week’s volunteer-job hours. It was less manageable given my tiredness, but I still achieved it. Woo. Did nothing else of interest, though. Although I did get around to sampling the loquats.
I really like loquats, far more than I do the wayward cherimoya. The best way I can think to describe them is if you combine the flavors of apple, orange, and plum, and then put that flavor into the body/texture of an apricot. I’ll have to eat as many as I can while I’m here.