I woke up this morning in my bottom bunk to the sound of the rooster(s) crowing. They are really pushy things that make a lot of noise and molest the female chickens. The tin roof has pieces of plastic in the middle to allow light to come through when it pops up. The sun comes up at 5:30, so this is when I get out of bed.
I'm always the first up, I like having first pickings on the road for walking. (Solitude goes a long way for just a moment.) Flaco the mutt awesome dog expecting puppies from his mate/mom - that's how nature goes, I'm learning - followed me and waited while I made a rock path over the creek so I wouldn't get my feet wet.
**Later I stepped in a mud hole by the pila - washing area - and completely mucked up my shoes anyhow.
It's great when you are far enough away to hear nothing but waterfalls and it's not hot enough to start sweating too much. Lots of barbed wire, but lots of green mountains and hills and behind those probably more. And some cows, and a really ugly pig, and some garbage, and some shacks...but I really like it.
Breakfast took an hour and a half to make.
1. Haul in wood and pine needles.
2. Arrange and light with matches in the hole under the flattop stove.
3. Fail and bring in more wood of varying sizes.
4. Ask someone who has been here longer to help.
5. Fill kettle for boiling water for coffee.
6. Assess food availability. It's been 5 days since we've shopped, so we're down to onions, garlic, onions and eggs. Frittata time!
7. Chop with dull knife, wait for oil to slowly heat.
8. Eventually make coffee, eventually eat frittata, eventually eat tortillas that were made in the meantime. And oranges and avocado. It's better than it sounds.
Mid-breakfast we saw Candida, the campus cook, carrying a rooster by its neck and legs, the same jerk that keeps waking me up. Today we eat rooster!
"Podemos mirar, por favor?" Can we watch?
Oh yeah, nothing flavors your own breakfast better than watching your lunch be swiftly put to sleep with a small knife. It wasn't shocking, it wasn't "super" or "delightful" but I've always thought that if I could watch it die, or even help, then I can eat it without guilt because I witnessed the circle of life stand on rooster legs and do what needs to be done.
All this communal pastoral living is really encouraging my hippie "Peace, Love, and Food" ideals.