Good afternoon! The kids are outside playing with their friends.

My husband just set off for Chamelco in search of some electrical tape so he can fix the stove (so it will cease and desist in its shocking behavior, hopefully).

I finished mixing up a batch of five-minute bread for our supper. The house is quiet, all except for the tin roof—it makes crackling noises in the broiling sun.

Yes, the sun, oh joy! It hasn’t rained for two days and the chill and damp is finally (perhaps momentarily, but that’s okay) gone.

We are still living out of suitcases, but our made-to-order dressers and some tables arrived this morning. However, since they were made out of wet wood (much to my husband’s dismay), we have to let them dry in the sun for a couple days before using them. One of the tables went into the kitchen so now I have some actual counter space to work with and not just a tile ledge. Another carpentry shop is making us some simple chairs, a bench, and another bed stand, and once my husband gets some wood, we’ll have shelves on the walls. Bit by bit, we’re settling in.

I have so much to write about that I’m not sure where to start. Maybe a list?

*The first night in our new home, our older daughter sat at the supper table, nervously eyeing the gap that runs the whole way around the house between the walls and ceilings, her hands over her ears (her trademark “I’m scared” gesture), watching for strange animals slithering in and dropping on our heads. I, too, was/am wary of rats, mice, and possums crawling through the cracks, but I’ve made no mention of that to the children, of course. (The mouse that slipped in under the door last night is no longer of this world, glory be.)

*We are surrounded by boys. The owner’s grandsons live in The Big House: José is 12 and Fernando is 7. José speaks a little English. Both are very friendly and eager to share bikes, ping-pong table, etc.

One of the other families that lives on the farm, some long-term missionaries, have four boys that they homeschool. Their names are Jorge, Joaquin, Andrés, and Marcos. Their ages range from 9-13, I think. The boys are adopted and speak both Spanish and English. Their family runs the fish farm and they just gave us a frozen crab. I’ll boil it for supper…I guess?

*The 10-15 minute walk to Chamelco is peaceful and beautiful. First we have to walk down our long, curving, dirt/mud/rock/pothole-filled driveway, and then out through the bougainvillea covered gates. The main road is paved and lined with hedges and flowers. People are constantly walking by. Most of them are cheerful—actually, “jolly” is a better adjective—which surprises me. I expected that they would be more reserved and somber.

Later…
When I was writing, the kids came bursting through the door, wanting to go swimming. They said the pond was shallow and that the boys’ father was down there. I gave them permission and then, camera in hand, followed them down. (So much for my list.)

They—eight boys and two girls—were out on the water, boating, paddling, swimming, and yelling.

The entire pond was only a couple feet deep, thick mud lining the bottom. It’s one huge water-filled playground.

The pond has tilapia in it (and the neighbors gave us some!)—when the kids swim, the fish just hide in the reeds.

Some of the boys went to the far side and climbed the tree to jump in.

After an hour of racing, splashing, and dumping each other, the kids climbed out of the water, shivering and begging for towels. Now, back at our house, they’ve had showers.

As soon as my husband finishes fixing the oven, I’ll try my hand at some homemade pizza.

Wow. It’s been a whirlwind couple days. We found a place out in the country, talked about it for a few hours, decided to move, and then, a few hours later, there we were, living in our new digs. Amazing.

To tell the truth, I am so excited I can hardly slow down enough to type the story, the gist of which is:

WE MOVED INTO A BARN AND WE ARE SO HAPPY.

Okay, so it’s not actually a barn barn. There aren’t animals in it (thought there was that mouse that made an appearance tonight—the girls and I were screaming so loudly my husband thought a stranger walked into the house waving a machete) (and the dogs sometimes sneak in) and it’s not at all haymow-y. It’s more of a big storage shed that has had some bedrooms built into it. It suits us perfectly.

Our new home is located on a large finca (farm). There are about seven other homes on the property—some family and some rented. The finca—Rancho de la Santa Fe—is located a short walk out of Chamelco, a small, friendly, family-centered town. (Carcha was more industrialized.) Bezaleel is a five minute bus ride from Chamelco, so now we are a bit closer to the school. And that’s it for the geography lesson.

There is so much green. So much. We are more isolated than we were in the city, and security is excellent. I can walk around outside with my camera!

At first we were a little concerned that we will be too isolated. That we won’t have neighbors to visit with. That the kids won’t have neighbor kids to run around with. So far, that is not the case. There are two boys who live up at The Big House, the same ages as my boys. All day long, the kids have been back and forth between houses. Many times during the day I paused what I was doing and realized that I didn’t know exactly where the kids were and it was okay. After not being able to let them even open the door without permission, the freedom is over-the-top glorious.

And even if we are more isolated, we will be going to town for errands and church, and to Bezaleel for work. If anything, I think it will be nice to have a place to get away from it all. Having a safe haven is so important.

About the farm: the owner’s daughter is getting her degree in forestry engineering. She is reforesting with lots of pine trees, and she’s working at taking down the wire fences and putting up natural fences. There is a creek and a whole bunch of ponds—one of the renters is using them to raise Tilapia and trout. There are fruit trees and banana plants and flowers everywhere. There is a ping-pong table up at The Big House and a (currently drained) in-ground swimming pool. One of the renters has a horse.

There are three mild-mannered, intelligent dogs. Amarillo, especially, is extremely pliable.

The house is rather cavernous, but we have some ideas for how to make it cozier, and—get this—it has windows with see-through glass and big barn doors (but of course!) that open wide. Luvia came out to work today, even though it was Saturday.

She scrubbed the bathroom from top to bottom, and I scrubbed the metal barn doors, inside and out. We washed windows and scrubbed floors and did (a little) laundry. Some workers have been painting the house, and the gardener has been cleaning up around the place and “mowed” the yard with a machete.

My husband and older son went to Coban today and came back with a TIGO stick—a do-hickey that you put in the USB port so that you can get internet anywhere. So now I am sitting in my bed, drinking tea, and hanging out on the web.

This place feels so, so right.

It’s even crossed my mind that I might not want to go home.

Last Saturday we went out to Bezaleel for the first day of vocational arts classes. The Saturday program is the main reason we are here. We are supposed to be giving support to the instructors and helping out where needed. There is a lot of other work we can be (and will be, no doubt) doing, but for now, this is our focus.

When we arrived, a general assembly was in full swing. We walked in and took seats. Before long, we were called to the stage to introduce ourselves. I did most of the talking into the echo-y microphone. Afterwards, the students were excused to go to their classes.

I sat in on the cooking class. For the first hour, the teacher, Iris, dictated notes to the students. Someone loaned me a pen and paper and I took notes, too. The lesson was on good hygiene. After the break, the class headed up to the kitchen and set about making a “salad,”—a hot vegetable stir-fry that they topped with a squirt of mayonnaise and sold to the other students at lunch time.

Between the 16 students, there were three knives and three cutting boards. While they took turns painstakingly chopping the vegetables, I wandered around the campus observing the other classes, checking in on the kids (who were hanging out with Wilmer), and meeting people.

In one of the kitchens, a group of teenage girls were patting out the tortillas. I asked them to teach me, so they did. We stood there, patting tortillas (most of mine fell apart, but a few turned out okay!), and visiting.

The carpentry instructor didn’t show, so my husband ended up teaching his first class.

The shop is located on the downstairs porch across from the kitchens and consists of a couple of wooden work benches and several dull handsaws. When I stopped by, my husband had them cutting up wood to make a toolbox (for the tools they don’t have…yet). The boys seemed to be having a grand time.

At lunch time, the students appear in the serving room, a bowl and cup in their hand. Lunch that Saturday was a scoop of greens in broth (I didn’t get to try it), a stack of tortillas, and coffee. There’s always a bowl of saucy hot peppers sitting out for them to scoop onto their food. Lots of kids opted to pay the 35 cents to get a serving of the salad. (The cooking class students were instructed to hawk it and about died from embarrassment—the money they earn will go back towards buying more supplies for the class). Afterwards, the students wash their own bowls and take them back to their rooms where they store them with their personal possessions.

A couple days before when we first visited the school, lunch was rice, a piece of chicken, and tortillas (always tortillas). My younger son adored the rice. He kept begging for more. We told him that there was no more. I explained that if he eats more than his share than other children can’t eat. It’s a simple concept, yet a hard one to grasp. In the States, when I say there is no more food and we’re done eating now, there is always more food somewhere, in some form.

We stopped by the school yesterday to talk with Virginia, the program director, and Manuel, the accountant. We discussed tools for the classes and the schedule. We plan to arrive again tomorrow to, once again, observe and learn to know more. But, we explained, our focus right now is in setting up the house and learning out to go about the daily task of living. As soon as we’re settled, we’ll be much more available.