It might sound odd, but the only thing I really miss here in Guam (besides boyfriends, cats, statues, that lovely feeling of being in the center of the universe while passing through Grand Central Station) is seltzer water.Yes, I mean that stuff that is exactly like regular water, only it comes in sexy green bottles and is bubbly enough to be able to add it to things like juices and milk to make concoctions that taste almost like soda, without that gritty carrot taste in the back of my throat and the feeling of wanting to wretch from the burst of high-fructose corn-syrup induced mania.
Like any almost-bouegie person living in New York City, I drank a lot of seltzer water. I'm pretty sure the guy at the Mexican bodega in Bushwick stocked it only for me - because I'd buy all the bottles one after the other until they ran out.
But seltzer water is not a luxury they apparently have in Guam. Seeing as most things have to be shipped in via container ships, I can see why most stores probably don't carry it. Still, I've checked every grocery store and gas station that I've been to for something resembling seltzer water. The closest I came was a six-pack of club soda at Pay-Less.
So, imagine my giddiness when I found one lonely bottle of Pellegrino wedged in between bottles of Kirin and Sapporo beer at Island Fresh, which seems to cater to an Asian clientele, with lots of sushi and puffed rice and freeze-dried Japanese products in store.
I'm pretty sure it might be a mistake - a stow-away somehow carted here in the bottom of a crate of beer. The check out girl couldn't find the price tag, and there was no label for it on the shelf. But, I bought it anyway, and now have one bottle of fancy seltzer water to be pondered and savored whenever I decide to indulge myself.
I'm sure there are better things to write about here - but I'm killing time before the very important World Premiere of the new Twilight movie, which I must cover this evening. So this is the best I could come up with.
Also: chocolate chip cookies and geckos (a very, very tiny one).
Maybe it's Omega reincarnated. When he died shortly after arriving in your roach-infested slum lord-owned apartment in New York, his body was deposited solemnly in a shallow grave in a nearby public park, but his soul was transported to Gecko paradise. There's nothing surprising in that really, other than that you too should find yourself in Gecko paradise, which turns out to be a little piece of suburban America in the middle of the Pacific Ocean.
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