El comejen (the terminte).
Evidence of Senor Comejen is everywhere on Isla. Little gray trails snake away from anything wooden in our apartment. Look into the brush and woods beside the road and you can see their houses. Large black blobs in the crotch of a tree, a brush pile, along the remnants of a fence. The biggest terminte nest I have seen so far is in the woods across from the hospital. It is as large as a Volkswagon. How many termintes do you think live there? It must be millions, perhaps billions.
We showed Adrian pictures of our house in Boise. He was amazed that it is built out of wood. A house like ours would be a palace here but would not last long. Senor Comejen would bring his wrecking crew, like Marsellas in Pulp Fiction. They would use their jaws instead of chain saws or crowbars and pretty soon our house would be their house, a black ball stuck in the crotch of a tree.
Friday, February 15, 2008
Valentine's Day 2008
Sydney and Steve Stardate: Valentines Day
Valentines Day 2008, we were going to celebrate with a dive. Unfortunately, Arturo said it was no-go today, left word with Louis who told us just as we were headed out with our gear. It looks gorgeous out in the channel, perfect for diving. We don’t know what to make of Arturo, whether he knows it is going to get rough or just has other pressing matters. Oh well, as Scarlet O’Hara said in Gone With The Wind, “After all, tomorrow is another day.”
Sydney and I went for a sunset run last night around our usual route. It was nice seeing the island at that time, far less gringos blasting around in golf carts and scooters. Locals coming home from work, taking it easy. The smells were different, more pungent aromas. In the mornings the smells seem sweeter. We have not idea what we smell, there is something blooming all the time. Hibiscus is my favorites. The marigold seeds Sydney planted 3 weeks ago have shown no signs of life. We agree that next year, should be come for this long, we are bringing marigold and cilantro seeds. Everyone uses cilantro in their cooking but no one grows it, you have to buy it in the store. We have basil growing, about time for some pesto!
We are enjoying our reading, we often read up to four hours a day. It’s fantastic to have so much available time. After diving in the morning it is not uncommon after showering and some lunch, reading on our beds for a couple of hours w/ 30-45 minute siestas (I can’t call it a nap, I’m not four years old!), then to the beach for a couple of hours reading while we work on tans. That, my friends, is some great reading time!
Sydney and I have spent 24/7 together since we arrived January 9. Save for maybe 20 minutes here and there, we have been together. I thought about this before we came down, wondering if not having the away time that work offered might be too much. I am proud to say it has not. We have become closer than ever, able to anticipate behaviors and speech. Kind of scary sometimes when we both have the same thought, like ESPN we joke. Being together has been a fortunate experience; we agree that it is a great way to start a retirement. I thought the honeymoon might wear off, not the case. We’re thick as lobsters in a cave!
I received news from USADA yesterday that I was one of the Doping Control Officers who volunteered and was accepted by the Canadian Olympic Committee to assist with the Winter Olympics in Vancouver, 2010. Pretty cool, being a part of something so historical. There will be training and pre-event experience in Canada, it should be one of those ‘once in a lifetime’ opportunities. I am proud of my selection and hope to segway Sydney into a role. We both are anxious to get back into testing, now that we don’t have day jobs to schedule around.
We are looking forward to our friends Susan and Joe Murray arriving on Saturday. We will dive our brains out with them next week, everyday! We hope to go down to a cenote’ at Akumal and dive on Friday or Saturday. This is fresh water in limestone caves that honeycomb this country. Periodically, the ceiling falls in which creates access, most were found by the Mayans centuries ago. Susan and Joe haven’t dove a cenote’ and we want to help them get it in their logs. We may go spend the night in another small town inland. We’ll see!
We hope all of you had a memorable Valentines Day. We thought of all of you, hoping that spring is knocking on the door and ‘Ol Man Winter is headed down the stairs. Adios, mia amigos! Esteben
Valentines Day 2008, we were going to celebrate with a dive. Unfortunately, Arturo said it was no-go today, left word with Louis who told us just as we were headed out with our gear. It looks gorgeous out in the channel, perfect for diving. We don’t know what to make of Arturo, whether he knows it is going to get rough or just has other pressing matters. Oh well, as Scarlet O’Hara said in Gone With The Wind, “After all, tomorrow is another day.”
Sydney and I went for a sunset run last night around our usual route. It was nice seeing the island at that time, far less gringos blasting around in golf carts and scooters. Locals coming home from work, taking it easy. The smells were different, more pungent aromas. In the mornings the smells seem sweeter. We have not idea what we smell, there is something blooming all the time. Hibiscus is my favorites. The marigold seeds Sydney planted 3 weeks ago have shown no signs of life. We agree that next year, should be come for this long, we are bringing marigold and cilantro seeds. Everyone uses cilantro in their cooking but no one grows it, you have to buy it in the store. We have basil growing, about time for some pesto!
We are enjoying our reading, we often read up to four hours a day. It’s fantastic to have so much available time. After diving in the morning it is not uncommon after showering and some lunch, reading on our beds for a couple of hours w/ 30-45 minute siestas (I can’t call it a nap, I’m not four years old!), then to the beach for a couple of hours reading while we work on tans. That, my friends, is some great reading time!
Sydney and I have spent 24/7 together since we arrived January 9. Save for maybe 20 minutes here and there, we have been together. I thought about this before we came down, wondering if not having the away time that work offered might be too much. I am proud to say it has not. We have become closer than ever, able to anticipate behaviors and speech. Kind of scary sometimes when we both have the same thought, like ESPN we joke. Being together has been a fortunate experience; we agree that it is a great way to start a retirement. I thought the honeymoon might wear off, not the case. We’re thick as lobsters in a cave!
I received news from USADA yesterday that I was one of the Doping Control Officers who volunteered and was accepted by the Canadian Olympic Committee to assist with the Winter Olympics in Vancouver, 2010. Pretty cool, being a part of something so historical. There will be training and pre-event experience in Canada, it should be one of those ‘once in a lifetime’ opportunities. I am proud of my selection and hope to segway Sydney into a role. We both are anxious to get back into testing, now that we don’t have day jobs to schedule around.
We are looking forward to our friends Susan and Joe Murray arriving on Saturday. We will dive our brains out with them next week, everyday! We hope to go down to a cenote’ at Akumal and dive on Friday or Saturday. This is fresh water in limestone caves that honeycomb this country. Periodically, the ceiling falls in which creates access, most were found by the Mayans centuries ago. Susan and Joe haven’t dove a cenote’ and we want to help them get it in their logs. We may go spend the night in another small town inland. We’ll see!
We hope all of you had a memorable Valentines Day. We thought of all of you, hoping that spring is knocking on the door and ‘Ol Man Winter is headed down the stairs. Adios, mia amigos! Esteben
Monday, February 11, 2008
Isla Files 2.11
La lengua d’esparanza (the tongue of hope).
The Mexican people are incredible in their ability to make lemonade out of life’s lemons. We watch the young boys sifting dirt and hauling loads of concrete at the construction site. They are wearing sandals, old blue jeans, many do not have shirts or caps. They smile shyly or sometimes are too shy to even meet our gaze. “Hola. Buenas dias.” we greet them. As the weeks go by and we see them in the bodega, some of them even offer the greeting before we speak. They come from Chiapas and other poor areas of the interior of Mexico. Most are Indians, many Mayan. Most speak Spanish as a second language and no English at all. They are recruited from the poor villages with promises of a better future. Many will never return to their villages. Some will work in places such as this for 9, 10, 11 months of the year. Even though they make almost nothing, they send over half of it back to their families in the mountains.
You can see the hope in their soft brown eyes, the squareness of their shoulders, the gleaming whiteness of their shirts as they walk in to town on Saturday night. What is the dream? To return home and marry? To see their children, their sweethearts, their mothers? You can see the tongue of hope caress their souls as they cross the square in front of the church. They trace the sign of the cross on their chests with their thumbs, kiss the thumb, and press it to their hearts. Life will get better, just one more day, one more bucket of sand, one more gringo hotel.
The Mexican people are incredible in their ability to make lemonade out of life’s lemons. We watch the young boys sifting dirt and hauling loads of concrete at the construction site. They are wearing sandals, old blue jeans, many do not have shirts or caps. They smile shyly or sometimes are too shy to even meet our gaze. “Hola. Buenas dias.” we greet them. As the weeks go by and we see them in the bodega, some of them even offer the greeting before we speak. They come from Chiapas and other poor areas of the interior of Mexico. Most are Indians, many Mayan. Most speak Spanish as a second language and no English at all. They are recruited from the poor villages with promises of a better future. Many will never return to their villages. Some will work in places such as this for 9, 10, 11 months of the year. Even though they make almost nothing, they send over half of it back to their families in the mountains.
You can see the hope in their soft brown eyes, the squareness of their shoulders, the gleaming whiteness of their shirts as they walk in to town on Saturday night. What is the dream? To return home and marry? To see their children, their sweethearts, their mothers? You can see the tongue of hope caress their souls as they cross the square in front of the church. They trace the sign of the cross on their chests with their thumbs, kiss the thumb, and press it to their hearts. Life will get better, just one more day, one more bucket of sand, one more gringo hotel.
Stardate: 2.10
Today is Sunday, a day of rest. Domingo, in Spanish. Last night, Saturday, Sydney and I sat on our patio watching the traffic on the road in front of the condo. We are elevated about 20’ up and set back about 25’ so we get almost a voyeuristic opportunity. We can watch the traffic; the traffic doesn’t watch us. It was a beautiful evening, probably 77degrees, a soft breeze. Down the beach we could hear the distant sound of music. Pretty romantic, actually!
There is a lot of foot traffic on the road, mainly Mexican workers going back and forth to the large hotel building project about half mile from us. We have inquired about these workers and learned that most of them are young Mexican men (boys?) from Chiapas, a poor agricultural state in the interior of Mexico, the majority are Mayan Indians and speak their own language. They are considered to be the low of the low in this culture. These guys come here for the work, which is all manual labor. Some of the workers are skilled, like in brick laying or applying stucco, most are just strong backs. Since we arrived we have watched them walking back and forth, early in the morning and after dark, groups of two, three or four.
Some of them, (and I estimate the job probably has upwards of 250 men working), live across from the worksite where the company has fashioned a camp. The workers can live there for free, which I’m sure is a hammock in a shack, sans A/C. The company feeds them, for a price of course. Many of them look about 14 or 15 years of age, really kids that should be in high school. This was confirmed by Jose Luis, our condo manager who also runs the little store where these guys come to buy beer, chips, sweets. We went down to the store last night to get some juice and noticed all the beer had been sold. Jose Luis described that the workers bought it all (6:00pm) and that they work all week and “have to put much party in a little bit of time.” Jose Luis has quite a bit of empathy for them.
Do you know what these guys are paid? Get this, about $5 ($50 Pesos) a day! Yep, a day, not an hour! And that is for the skilled help, the ones that know something! The strong backs get less. Then, if they eat the company food that is deducted from their wages! And most of them are still sending money home to their families. They are paid in cash every Saturday afternoon and last night there were quite a few of them walking by. Most of them had cleaned up, putting on their best Saturday night clothes, some of which looked like what Sydney and I wear to do yard work. They walked down to the little store, bought some beer and munchies, sat out front talking and then walked back to the project. Some of them continued into town, another 2 mile walk.
This is the life these people have to look forward to. No wonder there are revolutions and uprisings in the world. People get tired of being oppressed, of literally killing themselves and getting nowhere. This has been a real education for me, a first hand look at what it means to be the low man on the totem pole. We have all been fortunate enough to have the opportunities to better ourselves. These folks have little, if any. Nada.
So, why do they do it? What do they work for? I saw the answer last week during one of our trips into town. A young mother was holding her baby, sitting on a bench in the municipal square. Her baby girl was sleeping. I asked her if I could take a picture of she and her baby, she nodded a polite yes. It says what I can’t. Adios, mia amigos! Think Spring! Esteben
There is a lot of foot traffic on the road, mainly Mexican workers going back and forth to the large hotel building project about half mile from us. We have inquired about these workers and learned that most of them are young Mexican men (boys?) from Chiapas, a poor agricultural state in the interior of Mexico, the majority are Mayan Indians and speak their own language. They are considered to be the low of the low in this culture. These guys come here for the work, which is all manual labor. Some of the workers are skilled, like in brick laying or applying stucco, most are just strong backs. Since we arrived we have watched them walking back and forth, early in the morning and after dark, groups of two, three or four.
Some of them, (and I estimate the job probably has upwards of 250 men working), live across from the worksite where the company has fashioned a camp. The workers can live there for free, which I’m sure is a hammock in a shack, sans A/C. The company feeds them, for a price of course. Many of them look about 14 or 15 years of age, really kids that should be in high school. This was confirmed by Jose Luis, our condo manager who also runs the little store where these guys come to buy beer, chips, sweets. We went down to the store last night to get some juice and noticed all the beer had been sold. Jose Luis described that the workers bought it all (6:00pm) and that they work all week and “have to put much party in a little bit of time.” Jose Luis has quite a bit of empathy for them.
Do you know what these guys are paid? Get this, about $5 ($50 Pesos) a day! Yep, a day, not an hour! And that is for the skilled help, the ones that know something! The strong backs get less. Then, if they eat the company food that is deducted from their wages! And most of them are still sending money home to their families. They are paid in cash every Saturday afternoon and last night there were quite a few of them walking by. Most of them had cleaned up, putting on their best Saturday night clothes, some of which looked like what Sydney and I wear to do yard work. They walked down to the little store, bought some beer and munchies, sat out front talking and then walked back to the project. Some of them continued into town, another 2 mile walk.
This is the life these people have to look forward to. No wonder there are revolutions and uprisings in the world. People get tired of being oppressed, of literally killing themselves and getting nowhere. This has been a real education for me, a first hand look at what it means to be the low man on the totem pole. We have all been fortunate enough to have the opportunities to better ourselves. These folks have little, if any. Nada.
So, why do they do it? What do they work for? I saw the answer last week during one of our trips into town. A young mother was holding her baby, sitting on a bench in the municipal square. Her baby girl was sleeping. I asked her if I could take a picture of she and her baby, she nodded a polite yes. It says what I can’t. Adios, mia amigos! Think Spring! Esteben
Wednesday, February 6, 2008
Isla Files 2.5
Iguanas or gekkos. Which do I find the most fascinating? I must admit that even within these reptiles I have my favorites. But how to choose a species? Allow me to introduce you to the contestants.
Kitchen Gekko. This small gekko lives behind the refrigerator and stealthily roams the kitchen looking for mosquitoes, tiny flies, and even tinier ants. She barks at us if we stay up too late of if we don’t remember to turn the lights off. I imagine that she is a mother. Who else would care how late we stay up?
Garden Gekko. A guy surely, this gekko hangs in the basil outside and stealthily goes about his business. He can hang motionless on the most slender stalk of aloe vera if he thinks we have spotted him. Is he shy or just looking for an opening in the screen so that he can come in and visit the Kitchen?
The Evel Gekkivo, the daring gekko of Builiding B. He continually defies the odds by leaping from the second story window box with grackles in hot pursuit. He spreads his gekko body in free-fall. You can almost hear him scream “Look, ma! No hands!”
Guan Jose, truly the father of the tribe. While bigger iguanas live on other parts of the island, Guan has his turf clearly marked. He lives under the bodega and comes out to chat with Jose Luis and Nellie if they want for company in the store. His toe nails are massive but he has lost part of his tail in some long ago battle.
Junior, a smaller less regal image of his father. He lives in a crack in the wall by the bodega and is constantly wary. They don’t call iguanas “Mexican chickens” for nothing. The passing workers look at him hungrily.
Donna Guana, a silly goose of an iguana. She lives under the sidewalk near our building. She hides under the step if she thinks you have spotted her. Sometimes her tails is still sticking in the air, in plain view. Doesn’t she feel the draft?
Guard Guan, the keeper who lives by the gate. She keeps tabs on the comings and goings of the compound and is quick to relay the choicest bit of new gossip. "Did you see what that woman in 1-A was wearing today? I’d make more of an effort if I were her. Have you seen her cute husband?”
Elvis, the big guy in the storm drain up the road. He surely has been having late night snacks of fried peanut butter and banana sandwiches. His suit is stretched tight. His pompador full and flowing. He just needs a microphone and some rings. You can hear him singing “Don’t be cruel” late at night.
Kitchen Gekko. This small gekko lives behind the refrigerator and stealthily roams the kitchen looking for mosquitoes, tiny flies, and even tinier ants. She barks at us if we stay up too late of if we don’t remember to turn the lights off. I imagine that she is a mother. Who else would care how late we stay up?
Garden Gekko. A guy surely, this gekko hangs in the basil outside and stealthily goes about his business. He can hang motionless on the most slender stalk of aloe vera if he thinks we have spotted him. Is he shy or just looking for an opening in the screen so that he can come in and visit the Kitchen?
The Evel Gekkivo, the daring gekko of Builiding B. He continually defies the odds by leaping from the second story window box with grackles in hot pursuit. He spreads his gekko body in free-fall. You can almost hear him scream “Look, ma! No hands!”
Guan Jose, truly the father of the tribe. While bigger iguanas live on other parts of the island, Guan has his turf clearly marked. He lives under the bodega and comes out to chat with Jose Luis and Nellie if they want for company in the store. His toe nails are massive but he has lost part of his tail in some long ago battle.
Junior, a smaller less regal image of his father. He lives in a crack in the wall by the bodega and is constantly wary. They don’t call iguanas “Mexican chickens” for nothing. The passing workers look at him hungrily.
Donna Guana, a silly goose of an iguana. She lives under the sidewalk near our building. She hides under the step if she thinks you have spotted her. Sometimes her tails is still sticking in the air, in plain view. Doesn’t she feel the draft?
Guard Guan, the keeper who lives by the gate. She keeps tabs on the comings and goings of the compound and is quick to relay the choicest bit of new gossip. "Did you see what that woman in 1-A was wearing today? I’d make more of an effort if I were her. Have you seen her cute husband?”
Elvis, the big guy in the storm drain up the road. He surely has been having late night snacks of fried peanut butter and banana sandwiches. His suit is stretched tight. His pompador full and flowing. He just needs a microphone and some rings. You can hear him singing “Don’t be cruel” late at night.
Monday, February 4, 2008
Steve and Sydney Stardate: Super Bowl Sunday
Today is the big day, surprising how this event is such an opportunity for the tourist industry on the island. I’m sure it is that way all over the world, hell, everybody likes a party! We’re going to have a Super Bowl party at our place; I have my Cheetos and coca cola! We will watch the game in Spanish which I find more interesting than English. The new ads should prove entertaining!
I am attaching a photo of some new construction. (Sorry. The photo did not transfer.) I believe it represents quite a bit of this culture. The first thing you notice is a lack of equipment. No backhoes, concrete pampers, mixers, or scissor-lifts. Nope, nothing but strong backs. Instead of throwing technology at a project they use manpower. Happens to be their most abundant resource. The second thing that caught my eye was their use of existing resources: note the Goodyear tire in the wall. Now, that is some kind of window casing! Leave it to them to figure out how to fit a window pane, which will likely open and close! The use of available stone is also evident, not much is imported on this build. Last, how about the lack of wood! Everything is concrete, cinderblock and stone. Scaffolding is about the only wood used so far, and that will be dismantled and taken to the next job. No siree, this climate eats wood for desayuno. The only thing that lasts is concrete. Guess when you live in a hurricane climate double wide trailers aren’t the call! At first the grey of the project left me cold, like it represented despair or poverty. I don’t think that’s the case as you note the sweep of the staircase, the turrets and windows. It will be interesting to watch the progress, they will stucco the whole thing and then paint it some lively colors. I’ll post an update in about a month.
We learned yesterday that our furnace malfunctioned last week. Thanks to Senior Steve for responding after Diana (housekeeper) reported it to him. A new igniter did the trick. What a lousy time to have your heat source go out! Thanks again, Steve, we certainly appreciate your assistance. The only heating and cooling we have used are windows and ceiling fans. Too hot, open a window and crank the fan up a notch; too cold, reverse procedure.
Sydney just made a great batch of avena (oatmeal) for our desayuno. Topped with some Yucatan honey…wow! Arturo told us the hurricane earlier this year destroyed a lot of the crops that the bees need and that bee farmers have been importing sugar to augment the bees’ diets. Sounds plausible…Anyhow, this avena burns clean and we won’t have to eat all day! Speaking of which, we are both losing a layer or two of insulation and hope to be lean and mean upon our return! Adios, mia amigos, this is Capt. Kirk saying good-bye!
I am attaching a photo of some new construction. (Sorry. The photo did not transfer.) I believe it represents quite a bit of this culture. The first thing you notice is a lack of equipment. No backhoes, concrete pampers, mixers, or scissor-lifts. Nope, nothing but strong backs. Instead of throwing technology at a project they use manpower. Happens to be their most abundant resource. The second thing that caught my eye was their use of existing resources: note the Goodyear tire in the wall. Now, that is some kind of window casing! Leave it to them to figure out how to fit a window pane, which will likely open and close! The use of available stone is also evident, not much is imported on this build. Last, how about the lack of wood! Everything is concrete, cinderblock and stone. Scaffolding is about the only wood used so far, and that will be dismantled and taken to the next job. No siree, this climate eats wood for desayuno. The only thing that lasts is concrete. Guess when you live in a hurricane climate double wide trailers aren’t the call! At first the grey of the project left me cold, like it represented despair or poverty. I don’t think that’s the case as you note the sweep of the staircase, the turrets and windows. It will be interesting to watch the progress, they will stucco the whole thing and then paint it some lively colors. I’ll post an update in about a month.
We learned yesterday that our furnace malfunctioned last week. Thanks to Senior Steve for responding after Diana (housekeeper) reported it to him. A new igniter did the trick. What a lousy time to have your heat source go out! Thanks again, Steve, we certainly appreciate your assistance. The only heating and cooling we have used are windows and ceiling fans. Too hot, open a window and crank the fan up a notch; too cold, reverse procedure.
Sydney just made a great batch of avena (oatmeal) for our desayuno. Topped with some Yucatan honey…wow! Arturo told us the hurricane earlier this year destroyed a lot of the crops that the bees need and that bee farmers have been importing sugar to augment the bees’ diets. Sounds plausible…Anyhow, this avena burns clean and we won’t have to eat all day! Speaking of which, we are both losing a layer or two of insulation and hope to be lean and mean upon our return! Adios, mia amigos, this is Capt. Kirk saying good-bye!
Isla Files 2.4
Isla Files 2.4
Every morning we wake to the sounds of the island. It is so much better than waking to an alarm clock! There are 3 main song birds on this island:
The black bird (mirlo) that is really more like a grackle. It is pretty big, with a sharp beak and beady yellow eyes. It’s song is high-pitched and shrill and it is a voracious hunter. We watched one go after a gekko the other day. It chased the gekko under one of the idle air conditioning units and strutted back and forth, waiting for the gekko to make one false move. Just when you think the coast is clear….wham!
The “mocking” bird. This gray and white bird knows 9 different “songs of the island.” It is about the same size as a robin and does not seem to be as aggressive as the black bird. I think it is really some sort of a fly-catcher. It is fun to watch these birds sit on the wires outside our apartment. They jockey for position and are quite territorial. I cheer for them when they go after the little biting flies (chaquistas) that torment me when it rains.
The dove (paloma). These beautiful gray and white doves remind me of home. They coo softly in the morning and again just as it is getting dark.
We asked Arturo about humming birds (colibri) as we have not seen any evidence of them on the island. We haven’t even seen any humming bird feeders. Arturo says they are “Not so much on the island. Maybe one or two in April.” I guess Isla is not on their migratory path. I am surprised, too because there are so many beautiful flowers on the island. We do see lots of butterflies (mariposas) so we are confident that the pollen is taken care of!!
On an unrelated note: Alici Ricaldi won the election. I guess all those people with the Gilbert Avalos t-shirts didn’t vote for him after all. Election day is very serious here and I think that the majority of people vote. Armed guards patrol the outdoor polling stations.
Every morning we wake to the sounds of the island. It is so much better than waking to an alarm clock! There are 3 main song birds on this island:
The black bird (mirlo) that is really more like a grackle. It is pretty big, with a sharp beak and beady yellow eyes. It’s song is high-pitched and shrill and it is a voracious hunter. We watched one go after a gekko the other day. It chased the gekko under one of the idle air conditioning units and strutted back and forth, waiting for the gekko to make one false move. Just when you think the coast is clear….wham!
The “mocking” bird. This gray and white bird knows 9 different “songs of the island.” It is about the same size as a robin and does not seem to be as aggressive as the black bird. I think it is really some sort of a fly-catcher. It is fun to watch these birds sit on the wires outside our apartment. They jockey for position and are quite territorial. I cheer for them when they go after the little biting flies (chaquistas) that torment me when it rains.
The dove (paloma). These beautiful gray and white doves remind me of home. They coo softly in the morning and again just as it is getting dark.
We asked Arturo about humming birds (colibri) as we have not seen any evidence of them on the island. We haven’t even seen any humming bird feeders. Arturo says they are “Not so much on the island. Maybe one or two in April.” I guess Isla is not on their migratory path. I am surprised, too because there are so many beautiful flowers on the island. We do see lots of butterflies (mariposas) so we are confident that the pollen is taken care of!!
On an unrelated note: Alici Ricaldi won the election. I guess all those people with the Gilbert Avalos t-shirts didn’t vote for him after all. Election day is very serious here and I think that the majority of people vote. Armed guards patrol the outdoor polling stations.
Saturday, February 2, 2008
isla Files 2.2
Isla Files 2.2
Moon-lighting, Isla style: Second shift onion crew.
Isla, like nearly every other incredibly beautiful place in the world, is growing. There are currently 4 major construction jobs on the island, a very small base population, and many tourists. In some ways it reminds me of the Wood River Valley in Idaho. There is a lot of work but a limited population to supply the workers. “Help Wanted” signs are in many windows. What to do then if you need something done that you cannot do yourself?
Wednesday afternoon as we stood outside the bodega talking to Arturo about a dive, Jose Luis took off up the road chasing a passing bicyclist. After some heated discussion with the gentleman on the bike, Jose Luis rejoined our group. He apologized and said that was the brick man that he had been trying to get in touch with. He and Arturo then commiserated about how difficult it is to “get good help.”
Later that evening about 8 guys showed up, some with tile-setting tools. They proceeded to swarm the small bathroom in the apartment next to ours. Tap, tap, tap: 8 guys removing and replacing tile until late into the evening. They came back on Thursday and Friday nights to continue working. Most of these young men come from the state of Chiapas or the Yucatan. They are very small and quiet, shy. They don’t speak much Spanish but favor their native Indian dialects. Most of them probably have not gone to school. They look so young.
Last night we came home from town at around 9:00 PM. They were gathered on our steps, sharing a late night snack. They apologized for being in our way. “Esta bien. No hay problema.” we told them, feeling bad about disturbing their break. Keep in mind that these guys have already worked from 7:00 AM to 7:00 PM at one of the larger construction jobs. They wear flip-flops, Crocs, cheap sneakers. Blue jeans or shorts. T-shirts or none at all. We watch them in the bodega. They eat almost nothing and live in open-air camps near the construction projects. Where do they get the energy to work like this? How can they continue? Stepping through their gathering on the steps I feel big, clumsy, privileged.
Moon-lighting, Isla style: Second shift onion crew.
Isla, like nearly every other incredibly beautiful place in the world, is growing. There are currently 4 major construction jobs on the island, a very small base population, and many tourists. In some ways it reminds me of the Wood River Valley in Idaho. There is a lot of work but a limited population to supply the workers. “Help Wanted” signs are in many windows. What to do then if you need something done that you cannot do yourself?
Wednesday afternoon as we stood outside the bodega talking to Arturo about a dive, Jose Luis took off up the road chasing a passing bicyclist. After some heated discussion with the gentleman on the bike, Jose Luis rejoined our group. He apologized and said that was the brick man that he had been trying to get in touch with. He and Arturo then commiserated about how difficult it is to “get good help.”
Later that evening about 8 guys showed up, some with tile-setting tools. They proceeded to swarm the small bathroom in the apartment next to ours. Tap, tap, tap: 8 guys removing and replacing tile until late into the evening. They came back on Thursday and Friday nights to continue working. Most of these young men come from the state of Chiapas or the Yucatan. They are very small and quiet, shy. They don’t speak much Spanish but favor their native Indian dialects. Most of them probably have not gone to school. They look so young.
Last night we came home from town at around 9:00 PM. They were gathered on our steps, sharing a late night snack. They apologized for being in our way. “Esta bien. No hay problema.” we told them, feeling bad about disturbing their break. Keep in mind that these guys have already worked from 7:00 AM to 7:00 PM at one of the larger construction jobs. They wear flip-flops, Crocs, cheap sneakers. Blue jeans or shorts. T-shirts or none at all. We watch them in the bodega. They eat almost nothing and live in open-air camps near the construction projects. Where do they get the energy to work like this? How can they continue? Stepping through their gathering on the steps I feel big, clumsy, privileged.
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