Story #1: I had a beautiful rooster, remember? Did you notice I used past tense? He was feisty and miniature and I loved him. A friend gave him to me because the little guy was causing too much trouble at his house. The rooster had more space here and he was my only rooster, so there was no competing to be the biggest and baddest. All was good. But soon my neighbors noticed that my rooster was inseminating all of their chickens. Why is this bad you ask? Well my miniature rooster knocking up their normal sized hens results in some miniature chickens and some normal sized. And why would anyone want a chicken with less meat and smaller eggs? They would not. My neighbors politely asked me to either get rid of the chicken or kill it. Me, still being slightly horrified with the thought of killing one of my own chickens, decided I would appeal to the family that gave me the rooster. This is how the conversation went down:
Me: The rooster you gave me is not getting along well in my community, if you want I will bring him back and you can have him.
Woman: Oh! No! Just kill him and make a soup.
Me: But really, I will bring him back and you can have him...
Woman: He will be great in a soup.
Me: I can bring him by tomorrow!
Woman: You don't like soup? Just make tamales.
Me: So you don't want him back?
Woman: No! Just kill him.
Me: *defeated*
I e-mailed her son, because he was the one who actually gave me the rooster, to get conformation on this course of action and I go back home. As I get to my house I know something is amiss. My neighbor approaches me. She tells me that while I was away my rooster got into a fight with their prize rooster. My rooster won. Their rooster died. She was not pleased. We (and by we, I mean she) killed my rooster. I may or may not have cried.
Story #2: The other day I was pondering dinner when my counterpart, Salvador, called and asked if I would like to get pupusas in the town below mine. I love pupusas, so of course I said yes. I get to the house and it is a woman making pupusas to sell out front of her house. Pretty typical. She lives right on the highway, many people do, so this is also not abnormal. As Salvador and I are sitting, enjoying our pupusas, it begins raining. It then gets dark. I live close to the border of Guatemala so semis pass by often. Also speed limits are really a slight suggestion here as opposed to a law. Please just imagine me sitting on the side of a highway, in the dark, pouring rain, with an El Salvadorian woman making pupusas and semis passing us, bombing towards the border at like 90mph. And now just think about how it is in the states. People freak out if pulling over on the side of the highway is a necessity, forget eating dinner and relaxing there. Dangerous? Sure. Adrenaline rush? You betcha.
Story #3: This is not really a story as much as an interesting observation. What do you put in sandwich bags? Sandwiches right? Sometimes chips? Soda? Dish soap? Wait what? People in El Salvador put literally anything you can think of in a bag and sell it. You name it, it can be sold in a bag and tied at the top. Dish washing soap, laundry detergent, water, sour cream, mayo, ketchup, mustard, any fruit or vegetable, soda, smoothies, homemade popsicles... the list goes on forever. If you are going to eat or drink whatever it is, just bite a whole in the corner and you are set! How do you set it down if you need to? You don't.
Story #4: People here point with their lips.
Just gonna let you think about that one.
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| My friend Sara needed a casual bridesmaids dress for her sisters wedding in 2 weeks. |
Crazy right? I am having a skirt made right now, will let you know how it comes out, but for these prices I will get a whole new wardrobe made while I am down here. Also I like this seamstress because she told me I was in her dream the night before I met her. Pretty sure we are ment to be friends.
Yes, I do think this is real life. Against all odds. And, I know you were think it. Also how many of you tried to point at something with your lips after you read #4? Be honest!
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