Sofas and Tortillas

Well, I think I'm speechless...momentarily, at least. I wish I could adequately translate the local saying "Cuando Dios da, hasta los costales prestan." (Roughly, "When God is generous, even the bags give.") Or this could also be called "Coals of Fire time". Remember the Music Lovers behind our house? The ones who think the Volume control only goes one way? Well, today, from that same house, a very pretty young lady came to our window and handed us a dozen hand-made tortillas, "from her mother". And the daughter lives in the other house on the corner and also loves "music". But how can you argue with hot, handmade tortillas, cooked over a wood fire? Well, we swallowed our embarassment along with the delicious tortillas, then walked around to the really disreputable house behind us, (no glass in windows, only boards or rags,) to thank the Senora. Her name is Petra, and she is tiny as an underfed bird. Her children are grown and out of the house but she seems to rent a room to a young man who has a LOT of friends. She offered to send tortillas every day, absolutely refuses payment, but did accept the cassette of Dick's music we brought her. When, earlier in the day I saw them unloading a truckful of chairs from a truck, I was preparing to find a modest hotel where we could spend the night so as to get some sleep, but the daughter tells us "No, no fiesta tonight, they just rent chairs out." Do we completely understand all this arrangement? No. But we are grateful for the tortillas and the love behind them. The renters are another story. They come and go at all hours, entering through the window after furtively looking around, and sometimes stand outside smoking something strange. More surprises: Yesterday we got a call that the living room furniture (gift from Fr. E. ) would arrive between 6 and 8 pm. Sure enough, a sofa, loveseat and chair, all really overstuffed, were cheerfully unloaded and plopped in our living area. Industrial strength upholstery in gray-green, plaid on one side, solid on the other. We moved out the plastic kitchen chairs and cardboard boxes we had been using and guess who figured out how to arrange it all without sacrificing my yoga space? Not me!! Then we replaced the boxes because no little tables came with the furniture. It's nice and now we have a place to sit or stretch out & read without having to get in bed. Yesterday Dick went 2 hours up in the hills to meet with other clergy and sisters in the deanery. The parish they met in has folks that do not speak Spanish, and an hour of the day was spent studying Nahuatl, the ancient native language in many parts of Mesoamerica. It has sounds we never use or heard of, and words longer than German. Priests in this diocese have to learn it, and we will also be studying it. When they arrived the pastor pointed to a patch of dirt and said, "There's lunch." What?? Yes, they had mutton barbequeing in a hole in the ground. Dick says it was tasty and brought me some. The priest's mom then brought in a clay pot that had been simmering on a brazier outside, and after carrying it quite a distance, set it on the table and revealed hot soup of Cow stomach, still boiling! You might pray that we get it figured out how to include pictures in this. The sights and scenes are out of this world. Well, excuse me, I have to call some hotels, someone else has cranked up the music to the maniacal.