The fever finally went away yesterday, but the wracking cough remains. Today's the first day that I woke up and felt like doing something other than going back to sleep.

Walking over here we passed Marcos and friends up on the rooftop, practicing their yoga. Greg and I are going down to the cafe after our half-hour of Internetting to have some coffee and sit in a non-fume-infested environment for awhile.

But before I go ... beans. A staple around here. Mostly people eat black beans, and mostly refried and fixed a little soupier than I'm used to, but good. I'm partial to lighter-colored beans, though, so I've been trying some other varieties like flor de mayo and bayo. They're fine, but what puzzles me is, in a country where almost everyone buys and prepares beans at home, why are there always rocks and sticks in the bag with the beans? Cheap brands, expensive brands, still I get rocks. So instead of just rinsing off the beans and leaving them to soak, I have to hand-pick through them in small batches to remove the rocks. Sometimes I miss one or two and let me tell you how unpleasant it is to be eating a tasty breakfast of huevos rancheros and bite into a rock. Pah! In disgust I even sorted out the contents of a cup of dry beans. In addition to the beans that went into the crockpot, I found: 67 pieces and reject beans, 12 rocks, and 8 pieces of sticks, leaves, and miscelaneous organic, non-bean bits. In one cup of beans.

So yesterday at school I asked Jonathan about this. He said he had the same woeful experience, but suggested buying mantequilla beans, a type of black bean, and one he claims is rock-free. I will let you know.