We had a storm last night – INSIDE of the kitchen! I was the only one in the house, but thankfully the dog was with me, so she shared in the excitement. It was getting dark on the walk home from the in-laws, but we expect it to rain at night anyway as its rainy season. I begin cooking the meatball recipe Id planned on, and the wind starts picking up. And it really picked up. So I shut the kitchen door, which opens up onto the patio area. There’s an opening at the top of the wall about 4-6 inches wide along the length of the whole wall for ventilation, and so I could really “feel” the storm building outside. By the time I’d started on the sauce, stray leaves were falling in the kitchen like a blustery autumn day. I had to quickly cover the pots when loose cement crumbs high up the walls from the construction began falling onto the stove. Meanwhile, as it was raining sideways the kitchen started to get really WET. I opened the door onto the patio to check out what was up with the dog, and saw no sign of her, but the entire patio/corredor was soaking wet when it is normally dry as it’s covered. I ran to the sala/family room/sleeping area to see if she was in the house. I found her there under the bed, and terrified. The rain had also been pelting so hard sideways that a stream of water began entering the MAIN part of the house underneath the door. Whoa! Quick, yank out all the suitcases from under the bed, and the two cardboard boxes now in the middle of the shallow “stream” being created. Onto the back patio, I’m sweeping the water away and thinking woops, poor design and how can we re-think/do the cement on this back patio, huh? That done, and back into the kitchen, where our little dog “Sausage” was happy to keep me company. I’m sure glad the sauce was done by then because now the lights went out (they go out a lot in this remote Northern Chalatenango part of El Salvador), and I only had to worry about cooking the noodles in candlelight. It all turned out well, Sausage loved the meatballs, and we had a great meal together. This morning we swept up the aftermath, stray leaves and branches strewn everywhere. My brother in-law Yito’s “milpa” has a lot of flopped cornstalks, but other than that, it’s all good.
Archive for May 2012
Hi all, someone requested pictures of views from our house here in Chalatenango, now that we’ve moved in, and I’m happy to post them. I’m offline more than online these days, so apologies for slow comment turnaround these days. Here they are:
We have now lived in our revamped adobe house together for a total of three full days. Today we start the fourth, and I’m the first one up at 5am. You see a different piece of the world waking up this early. It’s like a private window that opens up to a beautiful view that most people only see from a different angle. The first thing I notice are the “sopes,” or vultures. One or two of them were “parking” for the night in a tree yesterday at the end of my sister-in-law’s visit, and now there are six of them, like a family, in a tall tree that overlooks the river and pasture behind our house. We didn’t have sopes in Los Planes, but that’s because there’s no livestock there. Here there’s livestock and more brush animals like armadillos (“cusuco”), and iguanas. One day a few weeks back on a visit, looking at this same view, my husband noticed a gathering of sopes in the hills just past the pasture. “One of Elmer’s Ganado (cow or steer) must have died.”
It was an amazing site to watch. There must have been 25 or more of them all flying in what was almost a cloud of them. They were in a bunch, and then began to fly in almost a tornado like formation, as members of the flock began descending to the ground.
Then, it’s as if they have radar – we could see vulture after vulture coming from different sides, in the sky – but a line of them were coming almost from the same direction. And they did the same thing each time – form a cloud and then descend after circling in a spiral. The sense of hearing, sight and smell must be immensely powerful for these animals, as the distance they were flying in from was several football fields away from the presumed carcass. Bit I digress, now let’s come back to the back porch where I was sitting, a little past 5am. There are some major differences between “here” (Jicaron, in western Chalatenango, and not the high mountain areas that everyone thinks of as soon as I mention the name) and “there” which is now Los Planes de Renderos, just outside of San Salvador.
The biggest are climate and temperature. It feels like almost a 10 degree difference between the two places. And it’s much more dry here. Which during dry season sucks to be here in Chalate, but during rainy season it’s a nice break from the soggy sog wet days, because in Los Planes it usually rains twice a day versus the one here, but sometimes 3 or 4 times. Certain plants grow better there due to the temperature and humidity difference that just can’t hack it here unless you keep them in the shade, water always, and do massive TLC. The other major difference is a constant presence of flies here. Farms, right? Apparently they wake up early too – 6am and there are 3 or 4 of them dancing around my book “No Ordinary Time” about FDR and Eleanor, and the coffee cup which must now always have something covering it – a postcard works perfect for that. But I began to notice some similarities this morning. One in particular cheered my day – a hummingbird (“colbri”, “gorrión”, “pica flor”) was flitting around a tree out back that has yellow blossoms. The Torogoz is another uplifting sight – this one here is a bit smaller than the one who inhabited our previous locale, and seems to have more yellow/orange on his head and back. He’s a fantastic hunter, and I got to see his talents yesterday. He flew off one tree, and in mid-air caught a flying insect, then glided to another tree with his catch.
I wanted to go to “La Nueva” (Nueva Concepción) on Sunday, but we decided it was best to wait till today when the Ferreteria/hardware store would be open. Just like in the days before Home Depot, the local hardwares are all closed on Sunday. So off we went, Monday morning. On our way to La Nueva we passed numerous men with their “fumigacion” gear on. It’s a big plastic jug that “agricultors” wear like a backpack, to spray insecticide and kill weeds and growth. The first rains started steadily this week, so the “siembra,” or planting season has begun.
At the market we picked up $1 worth of ‘berro’ and four large cucumbers for 50 cents. Berro, or what I think may be called “Cress” in English (a photo here looks like it) is a leafy vegetable used in “panes con pollo” here (chicken sandwiches).
Like parsley but with a more delicate leaf and flavor. Then we were off for the beans and other veggies. We circled the market and finally found our beans, and the cacahuetes (peanuts) my mother-in-law uses with her choco-bananas. I was looking for those other veggies and spent extra time looking for a vendor I wanted to buy from. A couple years back at this same market a Baptist woman overcharged me a lot, according to my family, for some cilantro I bought. As we walked through, there was a whole stretch and side of the market where every woman had the white Baptist habit on her head, asking us what we wanted to buy. I blew past them all, wasn’t going to buy from any of them today, and joked with Carmen that this was the “Baptist Market.” I bought the remaining veggies from an old woman who was wedged between Baptist women, and happy with my purchase. I might give them a chance some other time to prove they won’t overcharge me to help pay for the diezmo (10% tithe), but today was not the day.
Onto the supermarket, and nothing noteworthy happened except they make you check all your bags, including the tiniest purse you may be wearing, that’s always irked me about this particular Baratillo. Baratillo means “good deals,” because barato means cheap. So we shopped at “Good Deals”, I found the flyswatter, and Carmen found the umbrella she wanted, so they got a good review.
Now onto the HSBC local bank branch to pay the light bill. This bill you don’t pay online because there’s a $9.10 subsidy most people receive on their electric bill which subsidizes the price of propane gas we use for cooking. We were delighted with the short line at the bank. While we were there, I was able to notice more differences in country versus city people, and saw two women, both older, wearing the standard “delantal” over their dresses while waiting in line. The delantal replaces a purse for them, and with two, three or more pockets, they can place their change and bills how they like ‘em and they don’t have to tote an extra bag around while they do their selling or daily work. My mother in law wears one from the moment she gets up until she undresses each night – it’s as vital for her as her underwear. Then a woman came into the bank holidng a baby and nursing simultaneously while waiting in line. Women here don’t use baby carriage much and can practically stand on their heads while nursing, it’s like nothing for them. A friendly man a few paces in line offred to give up his sport for her but she said no, I’m getting a rest here in line from the heat. That was very nice of him. We got to the counter and I pull out the bill. “We can accept payment but we don’t’ give the subsidy here.” I giggled and said, “well that explains why there’s almost no line!” So off to the next bank we went.
Lucky for us a bank that pays out the subsidy was right across the street. Good ‘ole ACACYPAC. My being easily tickled by the smallest and silliest of things, I kept cracking up about the name, my niece and I giggling and joking together. Try and say A-CA-CY-PAC five times in a row as fast as you can without saying CACA – hard, isn’t it?* In el banco de caca, we took a number and had a good honest wait to pay our bill and get the subsidy. While there, we noticed the same old woman wearing her delantal from the bank we just came from – looks like the same thing happened to her. She goes to the counter, pays her bill, then has to sign to confirm she got the subsidy. The clerk pulled out the ink pad, she stuck her finger in it, and signed with her thumbprint. Many people here, especially older people, have to sign documents with their thumbs. They’re analfabeto/illiterate. Illiteracy is getting stamped out here slowly, and as a country El Salvador now has a literacy rate of about 87% but there are still people who miss the reading boat to this day. Back in March on election day, one of my husband’s friends, “Chevo” wouldn’t go to the voting booths out of shame, because he didn’t want to sign with his thumb. Id’ say he’s all of 25 years old. His mom was a single mother when he grew up, they lived rather remotely, and she didn’t make him go to school. Back at the bank again – our number came up – we paid the bill, got our $9.10 in subsidy, and we were off again.
“Can you run by the agro and get some abono?,” my husband asked in a quick phone call. Yep. Back to the same agroferreteria (agro-hardware), and we pick up the stuff, which is fertilizer, and is called “formula,” of all things. Makes sense, no? We got just a small bag, an “arroba,” which is a 25 pounder, for Yito, my cuñado (brother-in-law) to use on the small patch of land in the front of our house where he is growing a milpa (corn-field). The alcaldias (municipalities) of every town in El Salvador are part of a system that provides farmers/agricultores with one sack of maize and one sack of abono (fertilizer). Here is a photo and link to the APOPA website showing men picking up their abono.
That was it. Over three hours later, and our errands story perfectly framed full circle by starting and finishing at the same store, we left Nueva Concepción to return to our rural caserio called “Jicaron”, affectionately nicknamed “Jicaron City” by a number of us here. With our car loaded to the gills with a Quintal (100 pounds) of concentrado/chix feed, two 40+ pound bags of cement, 4 small square cinder blocks, the abono, and a load of groceries, I cruised at grandma speed of 40 mph maximum to give myself ample time to dodge and avert the many 3 and 4 inch deep potholes (“huecos”) already present in just the first two weeks of rainy season. We passed a new set of men with fumigacion gear on their backs, walking and on bikes, and found our way back home.
* I learned, just today, the correct pronunciation of our funny-named bank, on the radio. To my disappointment, it’s very safe: “ah-kah-see-pahk”. We’ll still poke fun of it though.
Today we are moving from the lovely home we have been staying in for nearly two years in Los Planes de Renderos, but we’re not leaving El Salvador (yet). ( If I don’t answer a comment or email, it’s because I’m still offline!) We are “leaving the enchanted forest”, but moving on to green pastures. My husband worked over a year part time to fix up a small adobe house his grandfather used to live in, in Chalatenango, and that’s where we’re moving to. * The house there is “way in the country” and sits on a hill, with gorgeous views. On the front porch we see the hills overlooking the neighborhood, and out back we have a view of , literally, cow pastures, and behind that, hills and ridges.
I have made many friends in this neighborhood and will miss them. I met them on walks with my doggie, or on errands for Pilsener or tortillas. A week ago some of us got teary eyed during one of my last visits, knowing I wont be just down the street anymore.
This neighborhood and community literally feel enchanted, with a very different climate and lifestyle compared to other parts of El Salvador or even the city. It is cooler than most parts of the country, abundant with flowers ( you can almost hear “Hello and Welcome to Flower World!” with the man who does the voice over from ‘moviefone’), and has a small-town feel about it. Clouds/fog that roll in every afternoon around 4pm are just one of the special perks we’ve enjoyed while here.
Below are a few shots of the house taken this morning, just hours before parting:
* The adobe house is a “one-room house” style often seen here, and he built a separate standing kitchen, also of adobe, next to it, and built two long porches running the length of the house in front and in back. Souped up the walls with cement and a smooth stucco finish, and voila! Home sweet home. Yes, at least two or three blogs are long overdue with pics on the adobe house construction.
My husband wanted to show me how you fish with a net, which is called an “atarraya” in Spanish. Although it’s not quite rainy season yet, the Metayate river in Chalatenango always has a few fish, even if they are small. So, we went to the river, and my husband started throwing the net.
After each toss of the net he would toss me his catch, usually a handful of very small fish.
He would walk upstream several feet after each throw, because the fish run way from the net, he said. In one of the net tosses, Jesus caught a four-eyed fish, an interesting creature. From a distance the fish appears to have two eyes, but looking closer, you can see each eye has two different pupils. Reading on the ‘net I learned that the “eyes,” or pupils above the surface, are designed for ‘terrestrial’ use, and the pupils below the water are designed to handle light and environment beneath the water’s surface. We may think of this fish as a primitive creature, but it can mentally process two different sets of images simultaneously. How many humans you know who can do that? Observe nature, its complexities, and gain humility.
Here is Mr. Four Eyes, in this video:
And a fun “blooper” video I saved, my husband pirouetting with the net:
A couple weeks back, I announced rainy season in my enthusiasm of seeing it rain hard for a second day in a row. In the interest of keeping dear readers well informed, rainy season doesn’t start until May. We’re here now and it rained again once since my big announcement, at night, so I wouldn’t say we’re there yet. Happy to report things are greening again, though. Was amazed to see my friend Lizzie in Boston wearing a heavy Irish wool sweater today on Skype – brrrhh! Nice to enjoy a cold day in Boston from afar on video.