Milk! (and other miscellaneous things)

I’ve had a serious craving for good old fashioned, doesn’t taste like it’s been through a fire milk since I got here. When they ship milk to Fiji, it’s put through a process where they super heat it to some ridiculous temperature, put into a carton, and then it’s good for months without refrigeration. It’s mind boggling to me, because milk is only supposed to last for two weeks. If you haven’t drank it by then, there is something wrong with you. There is one side effect, however. It tastes nasty.

Imagine this with me. You’ve come home after a hard day of work. Your muscles (that includes your brain, thank you!) are tired. Your body is weary; and you have a hankering for milk. You know what it feels like. That smooth milk will flow down your throat and replenish everything that is lacking in your life. You pour the glass, waiting with baited breathe for your craving to be fulfilled. You lift the glass to your mouth, and take in a mouthful.

And then you gag.

WHO BURNT THE MILK! It tastes like it’s been put through an old pot! This stuff is NASTY.

Thus my experience with milk in Fiji until now. I found some pasteurized milk here. Catch is, it lasts three days. The bonus round, however, will tell you it’s only a litre of milk. That’s child’s play for me, just ask Marilyn, I usually drink 4 litres of milk in a week. YES! MILK! I am victorious!

Despite my pleas to God, there was no heavy rain last night, so I was dragged out of bed this morning at 4:50 AM. However, our Lord did have mercy on me and gave me a peaceful rest and I was surprisingly awake after I got over a bad case of the yawns. I figure it’s because my body was in rebellion for me even CONSIDERING getting it out of bed that early. Now that I think about it, my brain was complaining too.

I finally got to talk to Jordan for awhile today. We’ve been missing each other for almost a week. And my heart goes out to her. Being in a place where you don’t natively speak the language (although she is much more graceful with Spanish than I ever will be), and where you are only viewed as a temporary is never an easy thing. I’d be lonely too if I had to rough it out for 8 months with no real friends and surrounded by 26 orphans nearly 24 hours a day. I love kids, but I can only take so much before I need to hand them back to their parents and say my goodbyes. Just remember Jordan… 50 days to go! You’re almost there!