The Plantation Diaries

Monday Morning

I picked up my vejuco bench the other day from Carlos. When I arrived, the family was waiting for me. They asked if I would take their photograph. I was happy to accommodate them and told them I would post it on the Internet. They are a very sweet family and I told Carlos I would give him more work whenever he had the time. While the benches look charming, they are in need of cushions. Now that I have all the pieces, I will have to sew up some seat pads.

Evers and I have been working hard on the bathroom these last few weeks. It's been a long process of remodeling what could hardly be called a bathroom. There was a pila for water that was stained and cracked, a crumbling cement floor, and two toilets that did not flush. Why two toilets almost side by side? Only my great grandfather knows the answer to that question.

We have since poured a new floor, installed ceramic tiles, repaired, and painted the pila, removed one toilet and the remaining one is now flushing. Evers sanded and varnished the cedar walls and trimmed the joints with stained bamboo. This weekend, I had Evers create a cover with bamboo to camouflage the pila. None of us recognize the bathroom anymore.

It is 5am here and I can hear Evers and Vigil stirring in the room next door. Evers will run home for breakfast with his family and return at 7. He is painting the windows this week and staking the tomatoes which are now tall and robust. Vigil, I believe has no home, and I don't ask. He keeps all of his clothing here hanging neatly in a corner and does his laundry on Sundays. He had a family, but they left for the United States and he never heard from them again.

His morning routine is to light the fire outside and cook up a few eggs. He likes to use tons of cooking oil and is forever setting his entire pan on fire. He feeds the animals and gets the drinking water ready for men before leaving for the fields at 7. At 3pm, quitting time, he usually disappears in town before returning in the evening at 7:30.

When I realized he had no home, I made an effort to make him feel like the finca was indeed his home, but had to pull back. Vigil took me quite literally and began helping himself to everything in the kitchen. I would go looking for sugar, salt, or Juana's leftover's and everything would be gone. Batteries, laundry soap, sewing needles, shoe polish, and miscellaneous other items started to disappear like a chapter out of, "The Borrowers."

Juana cooked beans everyday. An entire potful of delicious beans grown here on the finca. While I like beans, I can only eat so many. Every evening, Vigil would come to me and tell me we had to heat the beans or they would go bad, and he would march off to the kitchen and turn on the gas stove. I finally realized that not only was I filling up the gas tank every week, but that the beans were being consumed at a furious pace, and not by me. I told Juana to nix the beans.

I then went out and bought Vigil his own supply of sugar and salt and presented them as a gift. He got the hint and stays out of the kitchen. Things still disappear now and then, but nothing of any consequence that cannot be easily replaced.

Later this morning, I am off to the phone company to have them print out a detailed usage report. My phone bill was $137, more than double the normal monthly rate. I have unlimited Internet and a fixed land-line which I hardly use. Obviously someone has been enjoying it. This afternoon, I will scour the bill and try to figure out who the culprit is. I have moved the phone from living room to my bedroom and locked it. Yes, it comes with a keyed-lock. Maybe that was a clue I should have noticed from the beginning.

On The Road To San Salvador

A few days ago, I drove up to San Salvador. It is a 90 minute drive if you leave before sunrise. Driving at night is not the best option, as there are no highway lights, and cows have a tendency to park themselves in the middle of the road. If I were a cow, I can only think I might stand in the middle of the road with my nose high in the air, as to which direction I might find the best grazing. Or maybe cows like the feel of warm pavement on their hooves while they hunt for trash thrown out by passing cars. Cows in this country should wear reflectors. Little Velcro jobs wrapped around their legs and one swinging from their tail.

There is always an odd assortment of vehicles on the Litoral Highway that inevitably make the drive closer to two hours or more, if you haven't the nerve for death-defying passing. The ox-carts which have been banned from the main roads still pop up every now and then. To see one is to travel back in time with their enormous wooden wheels secured to the axle with pegs. The carts are slapped together with whatever wood is available, and the oxen are mammoth creatures compared to the Vaca's (cows). Their horns rise up in spirals, and their ears are in constant motion sweeping away flies. They have to be one of the slowest moving hoofed mammals, and to have a pair is a prize possession. They are a nuisance, but I like them. They remind me of simpler times where just getting somewhere might take you half the morning. I should like to ride along at such a pace one day, where I might see every detail alongside the road that normally escapes me when flying by in my truck. I would probably not recognize half of it.

The sugarcane trucks are the biggest challenge of driving along the main highways. They are huge slowing-moving double semis brimming with fresh cut canes. The canes teeter dangerously from the sides and often fall away like arrows falling from the sky. They are everywhere right now as it is harvesting season, and there are several processing factories in the area.

 

At the slightest uphill grade, the trucks will slow to about 35mph and the cars back up in a long trail. That is when the witless passing begins. I admit to partaking in the sport myself, although it took me a month or so to get up my nerve.

I always feel like I am deep inside a video game as four or five cars will leap out at once into the oncoming lane, gunning their engines in an attempt to beat the car that is only seconds away from a head-on collision. If the timing is just a tad short, you often see three cars sharing a two-lane highway with horns blaring and everyone holding their breath. One can then enjoy perhaps another ten to fifteen minutes of flying like the wind, only to find yourself once again taking your place in line to pass another sugar cane truck.

Trucks down here are not just for cargo, and I sometimes wonder what the DMV would think. A truck is also a means of transporting large groups of people, often as many as can possibly fit. If there is no more room, then just stand on the back bumper and hang on. I often give rides to school children that are waiting for the bus. They jump in the back delighted with their good luck. I insist they all sit down which they find strange, but that's my rule.

A few years ago, the military police came for one of their visits. I gave them lunch and coffee as we caught up on finca news around the region. Towards the end, Sargent Alejandro's cell phone rang. There was trouble at San Sebastian, another finca a few miles away. The Sargent apologized, and said they would have to leave immediately since they were on foot. I offered to take them, and before I knew it, they were all piled in the back of my truck. They busied themselves with their guns while Alejandro sat up front with me getting more details of the disturbance. Two men had been in a machete fight over a girl. The instigator was on the run, and last seen at San Sebastian.

I drove through the gates and didn't even come to a complete stop before the men had leaped from the truck fanning out in all directions. Five minutes later, they came racing back as Alejandro yelled at me to turn the truck around and head south. I had to laugh, as this was the closest I had ever come to being part of a chase. I later thought what a comical picture we must have made with the gringa girl in her little truck, and eight soldiers in camouflage standing in the back fussing with their guns.

Alejandro signaled for me to stop and said I should probably head home as it might get dangerous. I was of course reluctant to leave all the excitement, but Alejandro insisted. He called the next day to thank me and told me they had apprehended the man. Apparently, he was overcome with anger when he discovered his best friend making overtures to his girlfriend. Thank goodness all the men who work here on the finca are happily married.

I spent two days in San Salvador taking care of errands and stocking up on supplies that I can't get in Santiago de Maria. I managed to stay alive while driving in the city. The city is made up of connecting roundabouts that fly off in so many directions. Just trying to merge into a roundabout is enough to make you pull over and flag a taxi instead. After five years, I still don't quite have the hang of it, and I am deluged with enraged drivers who keep their hands on the horn in hopes that I will simply disappear.

I stopped at all the malls while in town. I was on the hunt for a large ceramic bowl, and only the better stores might have what I was looking for. There are three showcase malls here with fountains, sculptures and many of the modern stores that we have at home. The prices are the same, but it is still a pleasure to walk around and pretend I am at home for a little while. The malls were almost empty as people here tighten their belts and wait for better economic times.

Vigil has just gone up to the attic to set some poison. A family of flying possums have moved in who seem to find the wee hours of the night, the best time to put on a show. We are bleary-eyed and tired by morning as no one has been able to get any sleep. I am trying to find a cat or two, but it is proving impossible. A close friend of mine suggested I put a few drops of hot sauce with a little oil and water in a spray bottle and douse the entire attic. He said the little varmints will get hot sauce on their paws and vacate for more friendly accommodations. Marcus has provided me with endless advice applying his own farming experience, and tweaking it just a touch for down here on the finca. So far, all of his suggestions have worked like magic.

It is comforting to have a little assistance from up north. Helpful hints, care packages, phone calls, and of course, emails. While I am never lonely, sometimes home seems so far away. Yet, whenever I question my decision to conquer this bit of land, something always happens to calm me. It might be Evers running up to me with fresh picked fruit, or Carlito telling me another litter of rabbits arrived. It is often the smallest acts of life, but expressed with such grand emotion that leave me humbled and ready for another day.

FMLN Wins the Presidency

There is a definite celebratory mood in the air this morning. Mauricio Funes of the FMLN, claimed victory last night with a 51.27 lead over Rodrigo Avila. The final tally will be certified within 48 hours. It was very quiet with low voter turn-out yesterday. I went to the school in Jualeche which served as the local polling station, to visit Santiago and my uncle. There were a dozen military police on hand, and things seemed very well organized and peaceful. The polling booths were pop-up cardboard boxes with a small fabric screen mounted to the front for privacy. You had to peek over the top to see your ballot and place your hand inside a flap to actually cast your vote.

I was not allowed to take any photographs inside the grounds much to my disappointment. There is no written rule that one may not take pictures, but there is a policy, that all cameras will be confiscated. I recognized several town leaders and made a point to say hello. They all seemed to think that many of the voters had been scared away due to well-organized groups that were brought in for that purpose. The pulse at mid-day was favoring ARENA.

It was strange to be in the middle of a presidential election without the benefit of TV and the media spin. Evers and I drove into town around 8:30 to buy some phone cards and have a look around. Small towns like Tecapan were completely in the dark until around 9pm last night while people gathered and waited in the streets.

The outcome while not official, is probable and Rodrigo Avila conceded defeat late last night. The celebrations started with a roar and then quickly tapered off. I can only think, it is because it was announced more time is needed to count the remaining votes. I have mixed feelings as do many here. The working class feel that this is the much-needed and long-awaited change that will improve their economic opportunities. The world at large, is concerned about the FMLN's left-wing agenda and the group's guerrilla background.

As Heather Berkman, a Latin America analyst with the consulting firm Eurasia Group puts it, "People tend to look at the left in Latin America and oversimplify it. There's the good left and the bad left."

Everyone knows that the country depends heavily on outside investment and remittances from Salvadorans living abroad. It is highly doubtful that a new administration would jeopardize this support by adopting too strong of a radical approach.

As for myself, the finca, with all its demands, is not concerned with elections, and I have a busy day ahead. As an American of Latino heritage, I am banking on the good left to make a smooth transition of power in the upcoming months. I was told last night to expect a sudden attitude change from the people who work here, but this morning, all is exactly the same. Beto and I are working on the books, Juana is outside watering the plants, and the boys are pruning the last three manzanas of coffee.

The morning clouds have arrived, an indicator the of approaching rainy season, and there have been gentle rains the past three evenings. My tomatoes are flourishing and the first fruit has set. The bat tea is a huge success, doubling the size of the plants we experimented with. Evers and I are going to cook up another batch this week. I have company arriving next week from the states and that is always a highly anticipated event around here. We are turning the house upside-down to make it presentable. Juana has just walked in and surprised me with a plate of soft fried bananas which will not wait.

Presidential Elections

It has been very quiet here today. The moratorium on campaign rallies and public gatherings is still in effect. Driving into Usulutan today was like a Sunday afternoon. The mind-numbing traffic and throngs of people were absent. The usual crowds and caravans waving flags, handing out flyers, or blasting political speeches from speakers mounted atop trucks could not be found. The sale of all alcohol has been prohibited until Monday.

 

It seems the government is taking extreme measures to thwart any potential disturbances prior to the opening of the polls tomorrow morning. The race between Rodrigo Avila representing the ARENA party, and Mauricio Funes of the FMLN is too close to call. I have not met one individual who has a strong conviction about the outcome. If the FMLN wins tomorrow, it will be a historic moment in Salvador's history. The FMLN's defeat is what is fueling the threat of possible trouble. But as with any election, we all hope it is only the talk of a few. Below are some links I found that reflect how close this election is:

Chicago Tribune- http://www.chicagotribune.com/news/nationworld/chi-el-salvador-electionmar15,0,938652.story?track=rss

Buffalo News- http://hosted.ap.org/dynamic/stories/S/SALVADOR_US_ELECTIONS?SITE=NYBUE&SECTION=HOME&TEMPLATE=DEFAULT

LA Times- http://www.latimes.com/news/local/la-me-salvador15-2009mar15,0,3481455.story?track=rss

I am spending the day here on the finca. Vigil, Evers, Carlito, and Mario will all be on duty as well as a few visits by the local police. I stocked up on pastries and will have a fresh pot of coffee going throughout the day. I have been invited to visit the ARENA polling station in Jualeche where my friend Santiago and my uncle are working. I haven't decided yet, but I might stop by for a few minutes just to get a feel and take a few photos. I know my family would rather I stay put, but it is hard to stay away on such a momentous occasion such as this.

The Mercado

This afternoon, I drove to Santiago de Maria for a little shopping in the market. The Mercado is a large open structure with a corrugated roof covering one square block. There are approximately 300 vendors inside selling everything from fresh cashew fruit to bicycle tires. It is haggling at its best, as they all sell more or less the same thing.

When I buy produce, I like to hover over the stands comparing them back and forth, moving from one to the other. The women beckon, but I don't say too much. I don't want them to know I'm a gringa. Finally, I will ask the price of a mango from one woman and shrug my shoulders while moving on to the next stand. By the time I get to the third or fourth stand, the price has dropped considerably and I make my purchase. It's never more than a few quarters, but I have fun with the women, and it is what they do best. Other days when I am in a hurry, I go to the regular supermarket and pay the marked price. No haggling there.

There is nothing like a fresh cashew, and it was some years ago that I saw my first cashew tree. I was staying at the ocean with friends, when their housekeeper walked in the kitchen carry a large basket laden with bright red fruit. They resemble red peppers with a green knobby stem. It is the stem that hides the cashew fruit, and if you look closely, you will see it is shaped exactly like a cashew.

I went outside to see the tree which towered over me. I had always thought cashews grew more like peanuts, and could now understand why they were so expensive in comparison. The housekeeper, broke off the stems and threw them on the outdoor fire. They began to blacken and bubble as the oil emitted a heavenly aroma. She then removed them and proceeded to break them apart with two rocks. Inside each stem was one perfectly roasted cashew. I tossed my hot cashew from one hand to the other waiting for it to cool and then popped it in my mouth. By far the best, and I refuse to buy cashews at home anymore.

The housekeeper took the fruit and squeezed fresh cashew juice for breakfast. This was another wonderful surprise, and I have become hooked on it. That, and Jamaica juice from the red Hibiscus flower. There are numerous plants, seeds, fruits, and flowers here that are edible delicacies. I will try everything once, but play it safe most of the time. Raw turtle eggs, iguana, and gopher are just more than I can handle.

Speaking of eggs, I am still perplexed as to why eggs are not refrigerated here. When I first arrived, Anna my old housekeeper went shopping one day. As we were putting away the groceries, I took out the eggs and placed them in the frig. Later, when I went to the kitchen for a cup of coffee, I saw the eggs sitting in a basket on a shelf. Anna had already left, so I put them back in the frig wondering what she was thinking of. The next morning, the eggs were back in the basket. We played, "move the eggs," a few more times before I caught up with her. She told me that eggs don't belong in the frig. There's no need. I didn't believe her.

I went to the supermarket, and sure enough all the eggs were on a shelf. I came home and searched the Internet. Nothing. I asked everyone I knew and they just shrugged their shoulders. I still don't know why, but remain suspicious. Juana fixes eggs for breakfast a few times a week, and so far, I am still alive. I do eye the eggs dubiously after they have been sitting in the kitchen for a week, and usually pass at that point. If anyone can enlighten me, then please do.

I had a similar experience with Anna regarding petates, a woven mat that is sold in the markets. I bought several as I thought they would make nice floor mats. I brought them home and put them all over the house that I was renting at the time. Next morning, Anna arrived and went about her usual morning routine that began with mopping the floors. She was rolling up all the petates when I left for a meeting.

I returned a few hours later and noticed Anna had forgotten to place the mats back on the floor. I put them all back in place and took a bath. When I came out, the mats were gone and Anna had left for the day. Mystified, I put them back once again. The next morning, I told Anna to leave the petates on the floor as she was about to roll them up again. She made a funny face and told me that it didn't seem right to leave your bed on the floor. I didn't know that petates are actually roll-up beds. It took Anna a month before she could bring herself to leave them on the floor.

Finca headache

Late this afternoon, what I thought was my wood delivery for my veranda fence, turned out to be my friends from one of the many rural military police units that patrol fincas around the country. Five years ago, I had need of some protection and this unit was sent to me via the US Embassy. Fortunately, I have never needed their services again, and now their visits are just social calls. They were passing through today on their way to Triunfo where they are stationed for the next month. It was great to see them. They only stayed for fifteen minutes and the photo was one taken a few years ago.

I have a farmer's headache today. At noon, I asked Will to come for lunch and help translate various issues I have been wanting to discuss with Don Beto. Juana made us a great lunch, and then we settled down to our agenda. The men are almost finished pruning the coffee and will begin the cutting of the shade trees on April 1st. I will need to hire additional men who are willing to climb the tall trees. This will take approximately a month to reach the perfect balance of 60/40 shade.

April is also the time when all the land must be cleared for planting corn. I have been working hard to sell my idea of a cooperative effort with the finca corn and the individual plots that the workers grow for their own consumption. It is laborious and time-consuming work that they can only do after hours or on Sunday. Since I have caught them on a few occasions tending their fields while at work, I thought combining all the corn might have a better end result. I don't want to spend my time policing the fields.

Don Beto, who last year selected a prime piece of land closest to the house was somewhat resistant. He chose his field when I was away, and kept a rather low profile about it until I discovered it on a trip here last summer. It was hard to determine this afternoon, if his objections, although few, were driven by his own desire to keep his plot of land. He pointed out that all the men have their own way of doing things. Some like different fertilizer, some follow the phases of the moon, while others enlist their families to come and help. Don Beto felt sure that conflicts would arise from a group project.

I told Don Beto to talk it over with the boys. I pointed out, that we could have a weekly meeting and take a vote when making major decisions about the corn. I also suggested that if one field was not as productive as another, each individual would still benefit equally. In the end, I told Don Beto I was set on this idea and for him to find a way to make it work. I wavered a little during the discussion as I don't want to meddle in what is sustenance for them, but at the same time, the work on the finca has to come first.

We also talked about the current price of coffee which was $68 per quintale as of this morning (roughly $3.54lb.). It is historically low and being blamed on the recession at home. The normal price on a good year ranges from $80-150. Don Beto had no crystal ball as to when he thought the price might go up, and in the end, we decided to sit on the coffee for a while. Why sell now if we don't need to?

I asked Don Beto to provide me with an exact break-down for the entire cost of production for last year's coffee, so that I might arrive at a fair wholesale price for export to the U.S. I have one anxious customer who I did a special roast for this year. He has been patiently waiting for his beans. For his shipment, my friend Lito Salgaldo will allow me to use his export license, but I must get my own. It is a long process filling out multiple forms here and in the U.S.. Fortunately, a great deal of it can be done online.

We covered a lot of other subjects and closed with the state of the rabbits. While they are adorable and entertaining, it seems all I do is spend money to buy them food. They disappear, drown, or innocently sneak out of their pen and become lunch for the dogs. The worst offense, is that they have discovered my tomato plants and find them particularly tasty. I told Don Beto, we could keep two as pets. He agreed and said he would call Carlos who owns a local restaurant about buying them up.

Of course, this evening just before sundown, I happened to be near their pen. It was if they knew. They were all standing on their haunches looking right at me with an incredulous glare. I immediately felt a horrendous pang of guilt and decided to hold off, at least for another week.

The Value of a Dollar

Sometimes I think about home in San Francisco and reflect on my old spending habits. I might pick up a new hardback book for $24.95 or a CD for $16.95, and not give it much thought beyond that I really wanted it, or convinced myself, I just had to have it.

My perspective on the value of a dollar has changed greatly since then. I am a long way from Starbucks, Barnes & Noble, Home Depot, Nordstrom's, Gump's, and anything remotely resembling a nice dining establishment. It is available in the capital, and I look forward to the occasional trips to the city to get my fix.

For the most part, I do not miss it. In fact, I rather enjoy the challenge of finding my way around the unavailability of consumer goods. The bamboo beds are good example. There is not much to pick from in the local markets except ugly aluminum framed beds with ghastly paint designs. The traditional wooden beds are overly ornate with red velvet headboards or carved hearts. The process of taking materials from the finca and creating a bed was almost as enjoyable as the bed itself. I do love the bed. It is a queen four-poster with netting draped from all sides and over the top. The bamboo is 5" in girth and so far, has held up during the many earthquakes.

Today, we harvested coconuts again. There are nearly 50 trees all bursting with fruit right now. They have to be picked and it is hard work. Evers spent half the day climbing trees and lowering coconuts down to Don Beto. They loaded 100 coconuts in the truck and headed off to the, "Coconut Man" in Santiago de Maria who sells them at the open market. When they came back, Don Beto handed me $25. Later this evening, Evers asked me for some topical cream for his chest. When I asked what was troubling him, he lifted his shirt and it was covered in a red blotchy rash. One of the hazards of climbing coconut trees.

I felt terrible. I almost wanted to rush and give him the $25. It seemed ridiculous to put so much effort into something for so little money. Of course, he wouldn't understand this. $25 is a weeks pay for him. And if I gave him the money, it would start all sorts of havoc with the other men. I just fussed over him instead. Made sure he put the cream on his chest, gave him some soup, and offered him his favorite drink, a can of Fresca. He had a big smile on his face and started talking about what he going to work on tomorrow.

This morning, I met up with Will Fenten, our local Peace Corp Volunteer. He has committed to teaching English at the small school here in Tecapan and enlisted me to come along today. I have agreed to fill in on the occasion that he is unable. The school has about 700 children and it is very crowded. All children in El Salvador wear school uniforms and the colors vary from town to town.

Will was a natural and had the kids riveted as we went through the alphabet. He combined learning with comical showmanship. At one point, a teacher came by to say we were making too much noise. Will speaks perfect Spanish, and I doubt that I will be able to do as good a job if the need arises. I suppose my class will resemble a total immersion of English and more laughter when the children hear my Spanish. But I am good sport, and laughter always brings people together.

The day before my son left, we stopped by a roadside market where a woman was selling birds. I fell in love with a small green parrot. Adam feeling the weight of my gloom over his leaving the next day, decided I needed something else to direct my affection at. He bought the bird. It did the trick. We name it Gracie and she has been a good little companion for me.

So far, I have taught her to say "hello." I heard Vigil trying to expand her vocabulary with less than acceptable Spanish. So far, she is not cooperating with him. Like my first rabbit, Winston, it is good to have my own pet that is not a part of the many animals roaming outside. Last night, Vigil walked into my room holding a newspaper with two dead baby rabbits. At first, I didn't know what I was looking at. He told me they had drowned in the trough. They had fallen in and could not climb out. I was upset and asked him why they filled it with so much water. I told him to go out and empty it so there was only a few inches of water and then place some boulders inside for steps. He thought it a good idea. I only shook my head and wondered why they didn't think of it in the first place.

This Sunday, the country will have a new president. I have been told it is dangerous for me to stay on the finca and I should spend the night away at friends. I have mulled it over for weeks and have decided to stay. I know I am stubborn, but I will not be scared away. I will have four men on duty that day instead of two, and I have invited the police department for morning coffee and pastries, and then again for a late lunch. It seems a simple concept that if you offer food, they will come. In return, I will have all the protection I need and everyone in town will know about it. Juana and I will shop on Saturday. She owes me a day, so I will have her come on Sunday morning to get things set up. For the $40 I will spend, it will give me peace of mind and most likely be a memorable day.

It has taken me many months to cultivate a good relationship with the chief of police. He is a serious looking man. I made a habit of waving to him for the past year every time I saw him regardless whether he acknowledged me or not.

 

A few weeks ago, I was finally rewarded with a surprise visit by him. He spent two hours on the finca walking around asking questions. I whispered to Juana to make some coffee and then presented him with two bags of the finca's coffee. He brightened up and then asked about the price of my rabbits. Evers told him they cost $6 each. He balked, and I quickly told him that for him, they were $4. With that, I received a big smile and a bone-crushing handshake. We are now good friends and always wave to each other.

Furniture Shopping

Yesterday, Evers and I drove to the top of the other finca, Santa Nita. The property is divided into two parcels divided by a road that is shared with another finca owned by Senor Mehia. Santa Nita was once completely planted in coffee, but is now only used to rent land to the families who grow corn. The view from the top is beautiful. I had a clear view of Vulcan Usulutan which is the volcano that I climbed with my son a few weeks ago.

A young man who lives in Tecapan named Carlos makes furniture with Bejuco, a woody flexible vine very similar to willow. He and his father drive a large truck delivering goods from the capital to the outer regions of the country. One day while passing his house, there was a chair sitting in the street made from Bejuco. I fell in love with it and stopped the truck. After introducing myself, I asked him if it was for sale. He said the price was $5. Finding that hard to believe, I sat in the chair convinced it would collapse from under me. It was rock steady, not to mention full of charm.

I asked him if he could make more. He said if I can provide the Bejuco, then yes, he could make more chairs. So I ordered two chairs, and one two-seater bench. Carlos went later in the day to the finca, and cut the required Bejuco. He said I could come back in a week to pick up my furniture. It ended up taking about two weeks as he could only work on them in the evenings after work. They were just as well built as his sample chair and I was happy to pay the grand sum of $20. I immediately asked him for a four-seater bench. Why stop now?

Carlos said if I can deliver the Bejuco, then he would make the seat, which is what prompted the trip to Santa Nita yesterday. Getting to the top is not easy as many parts of the road are pitted with holes. Evers had to jump out several times to fill in the holes with rocks in order to create enough traction for the tires.

I discovered a wild pineapple field at the top with about thirty small fruits perched atop their stems. I had no idea we had pineapples. Don Beto has occasionally brought me a pineapple, but I assumed he picked it up in town as a gift. Evers said, that if I want, we can plant the pineapples near the house when the rainy season comes. Well of course I want to!

Bejuco comes in four varieties and they all look the same to me. Evers knew exactly what he was looking for. Bejuco does not look very impressive and I am surprised at how Carlos can transform the branches into such pretty pieces. He soaks them in water for a period of time to make them more flexible and then strips the bark before constructing the furniture.

I was hoping to have Carlos make more pieces after this one, but he said he probably won't have much free time. Shipments were increasing and he would be spending even more time on the road. I told Evers that since he has become so good with bamboo, he should try his hand at Bejuco next. He is eager to give it a go. I think we will start with a few plant stands and tables.

Several of my friends also loved the furniture and want to buy some for themselves. I told Evers that if he gets good enough, then perhaps it could become a good little side business for the finca. Of course, we will charge more. Perhaps $15 a chair!

Back at last...and just a little older

The day following my son’s departure, my laptop crashed. It paraded the evil blue screen with an unintelligible error message. I was convinced it was smirking at me. I put in the required amount of layman's time trying to fix it myself, before contemplating where I would take it.

 I tried the local cyber café in town. Victor, the young man who owns the café, gave it a good 8 hours before declaring my hard drive was bad. That meant driving to Usulutan to Garcia Computadoras, who is the only game in town. I waited until Monday morning and drove to his store with very little hope. His wiz nephew, Herman tore into my laptop the following evening and miraculously brought it back to life. I was delighted. I brought it home, fired it up, and everything worked great...for an hour. By afternoon, my Toshiba was suffering a slow, and steady meltdown. And  voila, there was the blue screen again.

 Tuesday rolled around, and I brought the laptop back to Armando at Garcia Computadoras. This time, I looked at desktops and bought a reasonably good model for $340. Herman tackled my laptop again, and by Wednesday, he was said it was as good as new. Of course….it worked for a few hours….need I say more? The laptop will have to wait for the next trip home when the boys at Best Buy can have a look under the hood. 

My new desktop came with Windows Vista, in Spanish! Never having used Vista, let alone in another language made me want to forget all about computers and go back to a typewriter. I finally found a language download to convert Vista to English. I hesitated briefly before hitting the “accept” button, as I was certain with this current run of bad luck, that the entire process would succeed in another crash. To my amazement, it worked. I have now spent the last few days reinstalling all my beloved programs, downloading drivers, and tweaking things to my satisfaction.  

During this time, I also celebrated my birthday. I have to say that of all my birthdays, the many phone calls, cards, and care packages meant so much this year. Opening boxes with perfume, books, candy, a white linen blouse, and a gold bracelet, was filled with such sweet pleasure. My cell phone rang all day with calls from home, and I was truly grateful.  

I did not tell anyone here as I did not want the men on the finca to spend any money on a cake, but a few people found out. When I drove to Salinas Hardware that morning, the entire store along with the customers, sang to me in English with a heavy accent. Later in the evening as I was sitting on the veranda, my friend Fini showed up in such a state because she had only found out a short time ago. She pinched my cheek for keeping it a secret. I opened a bottle of wine and we gossiped like girls in high school. We retraced our lives before we knew each other until we found the common thread of our friendship. Lito, Fini’s husband showed up a few hours later, also very flustered and perturbed that he wasn’t informed of my birthday. It was too late for a cake, but he managed to find four pastry tarts which were in a box tied with a yellow ribbon. They are my closest friend here, and it meant so much to me that they rushed over. I was quite fine on my own, but their presence made it complete.

Technical Difficulties

This is not a place to have your laptop crash on you. After two days of generous help, it has been determined that my hard drive is damaged. Tomorrow, I am driving to San Salvador to find a solution. Wish me luck.