Log #64, January
Hello to Year 2008
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30 January
Nakia's Here!
John at the dart board
Linda checking email
John, Linda and Ziggy Stardust arrived last week aboard Nakia. It's been so great having them here, catching up on the past year, reminiscing about previous years, and helping them plan next year, when they'll be in Equador and Central America. Another cool thing is that we're able to offer the comforts of home - a van, a dart board, a huge sewing area and WiFi.
Chivo basking in grass
One of our van hauls was to the vivero - Ziggy was the lucky recipient of a whole dishpan-full of grass - Gale, Bucky and Chivo got the rest, the lucky kids. The vivero sold it in meter-long chunks, enough for three dishpans and an eensy plot out back that we'll keep watering for future replacements. At the rate the kitties are chomping what they've got, backup grass seems like a great idea.
Stan loading up the ipod
Bonuses galore with Nakia's visit - new music, too. Stan spent hours messing with the itunes program ... when we weren't playing darts, provisioning or touring the town.
Linda, Snoopy and John
Manzanillo's sister city is St. Paul, birthplace of Charles Schultz of Snoopy fame. St. Paul sent a statue to the city. It represents Manzanillo's largest tourist draw, sport fishing, and our famous sailfish. Snoopy's decked out in his fishing vest, Teva's and he's carrying a real fishing rod.
Another angle, another couple
25 January
Damn the Mosquitos, Full Sleep Ahead
Stan enjoying the bug-free zone
Like the awnings, SolMate's mosquito netting was packed away, we knew not where. It fortuitously showed up in the same box as the awnings. THEN, it took us awhile to figure out that, gee, we might be able to sleep at night if we could prevent that damn whining in our ears.
Who knew there was such a rigid protocol for using a mosquito net? As we were setting up last night we killed five of the tenacious little beasties inside the net. The night before, the overlapping opening had been positioned on the restless side of the bed. During the night, after a few ups and downs, the edges crept farther and farther apart. Out went the welcome mat.
Our solution to sending invitations to a grand feast was so simple. Ignore the opening. After the purge, we enjoyed blissful, bug-free sleep by tucking in the two sides of the opening, overlapped at the foot of the bed so that each edge was secured at an opposite corner. Ah, eight hours of uninterrupted.
Besides unpacking long-lost boat stuff, we're also accumulating neat new stuff. My friend Jean of futbol fame presented us with this lovely beanpot, full of beans ready to stew. I was surprised that the terracota is made for stove-top cooking. After I became the proud owner of one, I began noticing that the street venders who serve beans keep their beanpots bubbling away on a burner or on top of an open cooking fire.
Lovely and utilitarian ... with all the drawer and cupboard space in my huge, new kitchen, this cute little pot sits out on the counter between uses so I can smile at it.
19 January
Santiago Tianguis
Front corner of the Santiago tianguis
Groomed fill in back of the tianguis
It's Saturday, the day maybe a hundred vendors converge on a vacant lot in downtown Santiago, set up sunshades and erect tables to display their wares. The sign next to the tianguis explains the history of their chosen hunk of land. On top is the original for-sale sign, "VENTA DE ESTE TERRENO." Underneath, the sign shows that the tianguistas formed a cooperative and bought the land, "PROPIEDAD PRIVADA TERRANO TIANGUISTA."
Slowly, slowly, poco a poco, the site is improving. Where tourists used to dodge mucky mud or ankle-deep dust, depending on the weather, a huge load of sand was dumped and spread, leveling the playing field and providing much-needed drainage. Dozers scraped and pushed for weeks compacting and leveling, always providing a usable surface each Saturday.
Also, the two or three little block buildings that served as impromptu toilets for nighttime loiterers were knocked down, ridding the lot of outhouse stench. One of the tianguis' best T-shirt vendors always erected his awning and tables right next to one of those offensive structures. Sale negotiations were necessarily limited by one's tolerence of the aroma. Who knows how the proprietor could stand it, but the building is gone now, and I predict his business will pick up. Same for the food vendors.
16 January
Accidents
Stan clearing limbs
Stan's index finger, five days later
Once his boys finished sealing and painting, Armando recommended an aggressive sweeping regime to keep our spanking new roof free of debris. Stan took his advice to heart; not only did he sweep, he went so far as to chop overhanging limbs from the mango and lime trees that were dropping stems and pieces all over the new white shiny surface.
I suspect that Stan went overboard chopping branches just to fuel his pyromania, the backyard bonfire being the local method for cleaning up yard waste. Takes one back to the days of yore when the smell of burning leaves permeated crispy autumn air.
So, anyway, Stan got out his yard clippers and created quite a pile of limbs. Then he proceded to saw them into bonfire-size pieces. That's when he got into trouble, perhaps it was the squirrel's fault. While sawing away, Stan glanced up at our furry gray friend hopping along an overhead branch, and OOPS, a second of inattention and his saw ran amock.
It's a standing joke around the RanaQuemada that the bandaids come out when Stan goes to work. It's a given that he'll cut, scrape, puncture or otherwise cause damage to himself, especially if sharp objects are involved. So it was really no surprise when he came in from the yard with a bloody towel wrapped around his hand. The surprise was the extent of the wound. It took three butterflies to pull it back together.
Our nursing was good enough to keep infection at bay, but not so good that he won't have a nice big scar.
12 January
Tiffany
Tiffany and Gale, she's growling, he's rolling
Before Christmas, our friend Hugo dropped off his kitty for holiday safe-keeping while he jetted off to the snows of NY. Hugo was due back last Monday - hm, where is that guy?
Tiffany and Chivo
Kitty dynamics: Chivo, half Tiffany's size, is her favorite playmate. Bucky plays rough and sometimes elicits Tiffany growls, but nothing like the ones ole Gale gets. Although he tries to make nice, Tiff is totally on the defense with Gale, very wary of Mr. Alpha Cat, even though he rarely exerts his dominance. They'll quietly enter the same room together only if food is involved, otherwise Tiff eyes him suspiciously, crouches and growls.
Bucky and Chivo
in a rare, very rare moment
Bucky and Chivo play rough, together; Bucky's a roughhouse tomboy. We call her Butch the Bully. She and Chivo get along with everybody, although Chivo's still in that kitty stage where he can't be still for more than a minute. He'll nuzzle up to one of the others, but can take love and affection for just so long before he chomps.
Chivo and new china, service for four
In other cat news, the four of them received a nice new dish for Christmas, all in an effort to keep more food in the bowl than out.
11 January
Santiago Bay Beach
Okay, I'll 'fess up, the picture of brother Mark, below, was him in hick mode with fake teeth - the goofy expression, however, was for real.
Meanwhile, out in the hood, the surf's down for the winter. Winter calm has brought back the sand that eroded away over the summer creating steep beaches and uncomfortable walking. Now the slope is gentle, tourist- and beachcomber-friendly. Yesterday I walked the 3 miles around the bay to La Boquita, tucked into the corner where little waves lap on the wide, flat sand shelf.
Fishermen, as well as tourists, were taking advantage of the friendly waters, dragging nets through the currents just outside the surfline and hauling their catch right to shore.
9 January
New Years Traditions
* and *
Happy Birthday to Mark!!
New undies for the New Year
It's too late for 2008, but here are some things we should have been doing to ensure our prosperity and/or love in the new year. Eaten twelve grapes, one on each chime of midnight, making a wish for the new year with each grape eaten ... gulp! Need small grapes and a slowly-chiming clock.
If you hope for love in the New Year you shoulda been wearing red underwear as the clock struck 12:00, and for money, yellow.
Didn't even need Photoshop....
Also, sweeping the dirt from the house would have removed the bad juju from the last year; carrying luggage out the door would have ensured great journeys; hanging sheep dolls from doorknobs, prosperity.
Dang, where are my yellow undies and sheep dolls?!
Instead of any of the above, Stan and I retired early to a firecracker lullaby. We're so inured to the explosions that neither stirred at midnight with the fireworks over Manzanillo or the local Santiago maniacs blowing off their fingers (speaking of severed limbs, more on household accidents, later...).