I love waking up to the heavy blanket of tropical humidity – because it so clearly reminds my body that here is not where I was before.

And then that very special first morning view out the window; a view anchored by boxes of chipper red and yellow flowers, tin (aluminum?) roofs layered – but not overpopulated – into palmed hillsides. Green, green, green.

The neighborhood’s bricked and cement walls look their age, the paint is chipped, but still an intentional brightness attacks my eyes. Or maybe it’s just the equatorial sun…