At about 5:00, the roosters all seem to be awake, and the motorcycles have already started their daily commute. The people who are renting a room next to me have already turned on their music and I can hear it perfectly thanks to the lack of glass in my windows. I untuck myself from the pink mosquito net draped over my bed and throw on some dirty clothes; because all my clothes are dirty at this point it's just a matter of partial cleanliness.
Opening the gate, I watch as the kids in uniform cross the street on their way to school. Three blocks down I come to La Pandería, one of the two bakeries in town and I exchange my shiny coin for some fresh bread. Walking back on the wide dirt road, I pass the little houses and shops which line the block side by side, the walls are all connected. When I get back to the house I fry and egg and some banana in the little pan and slice up a fresh tomato.
"Seymie! Seymie!"
Roque and his wife are on the street outside waiting for me, it's time to go to work. I fill my water bottle and throw on my shoes. Here we go.
We walk down the road until a truck passes. We ask the driver, a friend of Roque, where he is going and quickly hop in the back, walking treacherously over the tree trimmings that fill the bed. Gripping the side tightly, the fresh air tangles my hair as we speed up the dirt road, we honk to say hello to the people walking up with their mules. Once we arrive at the driver's destination we climb out of the back and start walking up, waiting for the next truck to pass by. Today we aren't so luck so we end up walking the rest of the distance.
At the neighbor's farm we stop to cut down some yucca trees. Apparently this is alright to do so I just go with the flow and sling the long branches over my shoulder.
As we walk the trail to our farm we stop at the various trees to collect some fruit for later.
Roque is telling me about the importance the farm has had in his life. He teaches me the word "desestrezarse," which essentially means to de-stress, and explains how the farm brings him peace and tranquility in his life.
Once we arrive at the farm Roque hands me a big bag and we start our work. Today we are collecting Maraquilla (passion fruit). It's like a large-scale Easter egg hunt. Scouring the ground for the fallen yellow fruit, we spend the next few hours filling our bags. The work is tiring and it's really hot and humid so I sit down to chat with Roque's wife Delsi as we take a water break. She peels one of the oranges we picked earlier with the machete and hands it to me to drink. Refreshed and covered in orange juice, it's time to plant the Yucca. As I quickly learn, it is a three persons job. Someone needs to cut the tree into small pieces and shave the ends. The other two need to clear the ground with the machete and dig holes to put the branches in. We plant six rows of yucca and will call it a day once we finish collecting firewood to fuel the stove. It makes me smile when I look over to Delsi; this little woman in her rubber boots with a huge dead tree, swinging it in the air and smacking it down on the ground in an attempt to break it into smaller pieces.
We pile the wood, cut it and put it into bags and bundles. Eventually the truck comes back around and we load all of our things as the herd of cows simultaneously passes by on the narrow road. Delsi and I squish into the front seat and we head back to town, listening to the radio and the sound of the squeaky old car as the 78 year old driver shifts his red truck into first to go up the hill.
We stop at a shop in town to weigh our bags of Maraquilla and are paid for our work. Roque and Delsi invite me over for lunch and we sit in the hammocks of their bamboo house and wait for the rice to cook. After lunch we sit around and talk, visiting with the various people who come in and out of the house just to say hello or just to chat. I excuse myself and walk home.
Cooling off in the shower, I listen to the mice scurrying in the ceiling above. The cold water seems like an inconvenience but is so refreshing in the heat. I wash the several layers of dirt, bugs, sweat, leaves, mosquito repellent and fruit juice off of my skin and put on my somewhat-cleaner clothes.
Siesta has now begun and I have an hour or so to relax and do as I please. As I'm flipping through the last pages of Jack London's Call of the Wild, more people have invited themselves over to chat. While they are talking, the heat seems to get the best of me and my translations become a bit blurry. Focusing too hard on one word I don't understand, I fall behind it what they are saying and eventually resort to saying "si, si" every minute or so. It has been a while since I've had a verbal conversation in English so I naturally start to wonder if my English will sound different when I speak it again.
Leila, the woman I am living with, walks over to tell me that we're going to make peanut butter so we walk to the market a few blocks away and purchase four pounds of peanuts. Passing all the small shops on our way, people are gathered together on the sidewalk chatting and enjoying each other's company. Leila says hi to everyone as we pass by and turns to me to explain that, because it is such a small town, everyone knows everyone.
Once we get back to the house we sit and peel the purple skins off one by one then roast the nuts over the stove in a ceramic bowl that Leila's grandparents used to use. Afterwards, we scoop them into the molino and take turns manually spinning the crank. Excitedly, I watch as the creamy substance slowly seeps from the edges of the grinder.
More people come over to chat and watch as the gringa learns how to make her first batch of mantequilla de mani.
It's finally starting to cool off now and I'm incredibly relieved because I've been hot and sweaty all day long. I walk to the store to buy some ingredients to make a pasta and cook a dish to share with my new friends. After dinner we sit and chat and some more people stop by to say hello. I try to subtly hint that I'm tired but end up talking for another hour or so.
I eventually manage to sneak away to the comfort of my bed and the false security that the mosquito net provides. For the next three hours or so I will listen to the loud disco-tec music that the neighbors play and once they finally go to bed, so will I.
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