ain't no fool...

Today I spent a hot, perfectly cloudless day harvesting wheat with nothing more than a common kitchen steak knife. At first I started out with scissors, but the knife let me move more swiftly and our little cream-colored wheat piles grew and grew. Later we bundled them and tied them with pink string but even after six hours, among eight people, we were still only half finished by time we left for lunch.

Though I would be very happy to return to the garden tomorrow and finish the harvest, instead I am going to start working at the restaurant that receives the garden's bounty. The atmosphere is bright and airy and laidback, I already feel very comfortable there.

But, at the moment, I feel uncomfortably full, having just over-enjoyed the Casa del Pan buffet..crema de chayote, ensalada, gnocchi, y pastel de zanahoria. Time for a nap.

And, our home has swelled quite nicely in the past week. We added an Argentinian gal and a couple from the States to what was before only Josue, Samba (the boxer puppy menace), and I. All of us found jobs on the same day and are looking forward to sumptuous home-cooked dinners in the near future. Speaking of home, it's really time for a nap.

night snacks

In the corner of a park, just down the block from where the mariachis practice and wait patiently (despondently?), there is a small, wooden quesadilla stand on wheels. Last night we visited, I unfortunately without hunger, and while the couple inside the stand prepared mushroom and chorizo quesadillas, they told us about how the police have been trying for the past couple weeks to remove them from the park. The first time the police came, there were a lot of people waiting for quesadillas and they began to shout at the police, "Get out of here!" "We want to eat!!" Since then, the police have returned several times, each time without success and the couple have gone to the city to see what sort of deal they can work out. "Either way, we're not going anywhere," says the woman, with a huge smile on her face.

I just have a blackberry atol and watch the incredible loyalty and comraderie among this one lone stand's clientele and among the vendors themselves, as lovely and sweet as the thick purple atol in my hand, which is also the perfect amount of warm on a chilly San Cristóbal night.