For the past three days there has been a fire raging in the neighbouring municipality, just ten minutes away from where I live. Puerto Rico is currently undergoing a drought; particularly the east side of the island. I know these events are sadly not too uncommon in many states this time of year, but other than some sporadic, easily containable small fires on route to the island's south, such a big one is extremely rare. About 970 acres have burned; and mind you, my home city is just barely 59 square miles. The whole northeastern part of Caguas smells like smoke.
I remember the first time I smelled that campfire aroma most of you have etched in your minds from those childhood memories of chilly winters, chimneys and warm beverages. I spent new years this year in Montreal, and I was the happiest person freezing my ass off, drinking hot chocolate near some outdoor stove with freshly added logs in the Vieux Port. That added another dimension my enjoyment of Latakia, another layer of experiences to associate with it. This, this is quite the opposite. A nasty, acrid cocktail of burnt shrubbery, dry grass, and I can't even describe what else.
The worst part of the fire was mostly under control by yesterday afternoon and thankfully no houses were directly affected by the flames, just the smoke; but I woke up today and had to turn the A/C off because my room just reeked. I haven't felt that nauseous in a really long time. I've been queasy the whole day. The mind wants a bowl of Three Oaks Syrian, but the body has 0 appetite for it. Sad.
