I still occasionally pick up my phone to text one of you....
I am still disappointed when roasted puaka tastes absolutely noooothing like ham.
I am still unable to successfully open or close our front door.
I still can't tell when it's beads of sweat dripping down my arms, or ants crawling up them.
I still think we are going to drown on this island anytime there's a little (or big) rain storm.
I am still thrilled by the boat rides. (I got my first Tongan slap last week on a boat ride...oh, did you know all Tongans hit everybody? Apparently you aren't supposed to hang your arm over the boat and splash it around in the water whilst driving to town. The slap surprised me, made me laugh, hurt my feelings, and finally made me felt I belonged.)
I still have moments of great pride regarding my Tongan language ability, and moments when I want to rip my brain out because of its inadequacy.
I no longer cry when Tongans cry. A speech is not a speech without some tears, and any gathering is no gathering at all without a speech.
I no longer crave American food...I just crave anything cold...anything.
I no longer freak out when there are ants in the house...a few ants never hurt anyone...
I no longer wear bug spray. My legs are so ugly, I don't want to talk about, but there's only so much deet a person can withstand.
Lisi
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