More Steps In Each Process

Nothing is ever simple. I want to be clear about this, and make no mistake: I don't resent the long processes I've had to go through for things I have heretofore taken for granted. I'm just noticing, that's all. I'm noticing the many many steps it takes when you have to do it for the first time in a new place. Cooking vegetables, washing clothes, putting up curtains. Each a strange and separate victory.

I wanted to eat some vegetables, so Stacey and I found the market. I wrongfully accused the vendor of not returning enough change; we bought the vegetables and left. Walked home, chopped vegetables. Got out a pan. The stove didn't work. So we learned how to turn on the gas for the stove, and how to light the pilot light. This was a complicated process, since the pilot light wasn't in its usual place for me, and I don't know anything about stoves to begin with. I was able to accomplish my goal of eating cooked vegetables, it just took all evening, a few tools, and a few risks.

Next, I wanted to wash clothes. I examined the washer, and thought I figured out the settings. But the water still had to be turned on manually. When it did start, it took three hours. I guess I chose the you'll-be-elderly-when-this-is-over setting.

My room has been in desperate need of curtains. One day this week, I found a store with some possibilities, but I realized I had to measure the windows first. Today I went to Ikea with some other teachers, and bought curtains that are somewhat too long, I found. But the real problem was how to put them up. The ceiling is eight feet high, and the rod is at the top. What's more, in order to put curtains directly on the rod, presumably one has to remove the fixture from the wall. Nope. I solved that problem by employing shower curtain rings. 

I solved the height problem by moving the coffee table to my bedroom, placing a chair on the coffee table (all sturdier than it sounds), realizing I didn't have enough shower curtain rings, going to two stores for shower curtain rings, coming home and finishing the job, then eating leftover cooked vegetables. One feat at a time, please.

Giving In

Beets are beets:

like meat, but unabashedly vegetable;

loud color, but unexpectedly edible.

They are unwilling to be changed

into something other than beets.

But sweet,

if you are willing to like beets

for beets.

"Tamales"

Abbreviated adaptations from my journal.

Day three: I still don't feel sick.

Today Doña Delfina, Graciela and two of her kids and I went to the plaza to buy tamale ingredients. We ended up with bags so full that I had to rest them on my legs and sort of waddle between the stalls of the market. While there, I continuously heard the name "güera." I thought they were telling me "fuera," get out. But Graciela explained that it was a term of affection, meaning something like "blondie." No surprise, really. Everyone and everything in Mexico has a nickname. I never once heard gringa.

I made my way to the combi (the taxi-van) to wait for Doña Delfina while she got the masa for the tamales. She came back 15 minutes later with a bucket filled with a sandy white substance made from corn, the foundation of the tamales.

She showed me how to soak the dried corn husks and sift the masa before adding the anise, the lard, the oil, and other ingredients that make the bulk of the tamal. Simultaneously, she was making salsa verde and cooking chicken to be used to fill the tamales. Then she showed me how to wrap them all together in the corn husks! We ended up with a small army of tamales, waiting to be boiled for an hour. In the meantime, family members were arriving. Tamales are an occasion. Although, for the Soto family, they hardly need an excuse to come together. The eight children return frequently to the ranch, just to sit on the kitchen benches and platicar, pass chisme.

Felipe, one of the Soto brothers, was excited to practice his English with me. But Rogelio took special offense at his forwardness, reminding everyone that I knew Spanish. He also felt it was rude for his family to address me as güera instead of Carolina. I told them I didn't mind güera. But I didn't tell them that I will always prefer Carolina.

The tamales were a success. We had enough for dinner that night, breakfast the next morning, and lunch in the afternoon.