Saturday, August 13, 2005
Almost a waste of a day
Today's workday activity was pickign coffee cherry for a small farmer down the coast near the old farm.
Turns out, we pick cherry slower than hell. Which isn't good for the farm, because if the cherry sits on the tree too long it over-ripens (becoming 'raisin') and is no good. This is also bad for us, because we get paid by the pound.
Most of the work we've been doing has been based on an hourly rate of $10. Our picking rate was $0.40 a pound. We picked about 100 pounds.
Let me break that down one time. Converting this to an hourly rate, we ended up making about $3.50 an hour. When we could have been making $10.
No, we will not be picking coffee cherry anymore. Which is unfortunate, because it is somewhat fun and addicting ("ooh look! That tree is covered in red! Let's go!"), and quite relaxing. As relaxing as it can be to stumble around and over slicked-up lava rocks with a basket filled with 20 pounds of coffee cherry around your neck.
So it goes. And get this-it's only three weeks until the plane leaves. With us on it. Crazy. And my passport? Still don't have it. It's somewhere on the east coast, I think. Supposedly it'll be in the mail by the 18th.
And let's not even mention (for mom's sake) the lack of consulting we've done with medical staff as to malarial prevention (I have many pills left over from last year-ish, but is it enough? That's the question!), and the non-itinerary hanging up on the fridge.
It's 615 pm on Saturday night. I am on the internet, drinking coffee while looking out the window and across this stupid subdivision at the sun sinking slowly into the ocean. On occasion I read a couple pages of "Dubliners" (J Joyce) while drooling over the collection of bound Kafka prose sitting to my left. Brooks and Dunn are requesting something country. Around me the world sleeps, wkaes, chats, drinks, eats, flees the falling rain, weep, laugh, contemplate the macabre the choices the ferns 10 feet from my eyes and the formation of clouds overhead.
Something is missing
This time, I'm searching.
Whaddya think, ma? Should I get another tattoo? I was thinking maybe in India or Mongolia. I am sure they have interesting methods for inserting ink into skin up in the land of the Mongols.
Hehe
No, I am not mean to my mother. It's that damn brother of mine-I've gotta keep up!
This is a hell of a pot of coffee I made. Darn good shite
Turns out, we pick cherry slower than hell. Which isn't good for the farm, because if the cherry sits on the tree too long it over-ripens (becoming 'raisin') and is no good. This is also bad for us, because we get paid by the pound.
Most of the work we've been doing has been based on an hourly rate of $10. Our picking rate was $0.40 a pound. We picked about 100 pounds.
Let me break that down one time. Converting this to an hourly rate, we ended up making about $3.50 an hour. When we could have been making $10.
No, we will not be picking coffee cherry anymore. Which is unfortunate, because it is somewhat fun and addicting ("ooh look! That tree is covered in red! Let's go!"), and quite relaxing. As relaxing as it can be to stumble around and over slicked-up lava rocks with a basket filled with 20 pounds of coffee cherry around your neck.
So it goes. And get this-it's only three weeks until the plane leaves. With us on it. Crazy. And my passport? Still don't have it. It's somewhere on the east coast, I think. Supposedly it'll be in the mail by the 18th.
And let's not even mention (for mom's sake) the lack of consulting we've done with medical staff as to malarial prevention (I have many pills left over from last year-ish, but is it enough? That's the question!), and the non-itinerary hanging up on the fridge.
It's 615 pm on Saturday night. I am on the internet, drinking coffee while looking out the window and across this stupid subdivision at the sun sinking slowly into the ocean. On occasion I read a couple pages of "Dubliners" (J Joyce) while drooling over the collection of bound Kafka prose sitting to my left. Brooks and Dunn are requesting something country. Around me the world sleeps, wkaes, chats, drinks, eats, flees the falling rain, weep, laugh, contemplate the macabre the choices the ferns 10 feet from my eyes and the formation of clouds overhead.
Something is missing
This time, I'm searching.
Whaddya think, ma? Should I get another tattoo? I was thinking maybe in India or Mongolia. I am sure they have interesting methods for inserting ink into skin up in the land of the Mongols.
Hehe
No, I am not mean to my mother. It's that damn brother of mine-I've gotta keep up!
This is a hell of a pot of coffee I made. Darn good shite
Comments:
Forget reading Joyce. Need I say, BORING?! Do some research into Marco Polo and the Silk Road. A little more apropos to your next trip! And who is "we"? Did I miss you mentioning a travel companion?
# posted by 
: 5:12 PM
: 5:12 PM
Interesting advice. Duly noted. However, I got this Joyce book (Dubliners) for something like $1 and I want to finish it before taking off sos I can sell it. Besides, I've read a couple/few of his books now and am still in deliberations as to what I think of him.
Marco Polo, eh? I quested for good books, but my library card is now over so I'll have to wait.
Yes, I have two traveling companions. The 19- and 22-year olds. I have not yet convinced them that they need to pay me to act as their guide....
Marco Polo, eh? I quested for good books, but my library card is now over so I'll have to wait.
Yes, I have two traveling companions. The 19- and 22-year olds. I have not yet convinced them that they need to pay me to act as their guide....
It'll take more than $1 to get me to not finish this book (I only have 66 pages left and it's a quick read for a Joyce). Ya have any counter (better) offers?
Sorry, fresh out of better offers. If you must finish the book, at least spare your dedicated readers the gory details??!!
# posted by : 11:44 AM
: 11:44 AM
I may spare some details, but I haven't decided yet. Since it's requested that I don't share, I may have to. I'm that kind of guy
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