21 May 2005
"¿Cashew, amigo?"
Every time I head over to the internet café, I am greeted at the door by a guy with three buckets. One is filled with roasted peanuts, another with habas (the salted, roasted lima beans mentioned in the May 7 entry), and the third with cashews. He sells them by the pound, by the handful, by the bucket. The cashews are a little expensive, but they are expensive for a reason. Raw, they are very poisonous.
And processing them is dangerous. We tried roasting them over an open fire in Brasil, and the results were edible, but the side effects were disastrous. I was the only one who didn't break out in hives immediately after the roasting process (I alone watched the fire from a safe distance, then, vulture-like, descended on the spoils). The only reason we did it outside is because we learned from somebody else's experience. Barbara and Charles Lawton went to Brasil before us, and they tried roasting cashews in the oven. When Barbara opened the oven door, the fumes hit her square in the face.
About a week later the swelling had receded enough to allow her to open her eyes.
So it is reasonable to expect that cashews would be expensive. Knowing that they are expensive, I always smile and decline the offer from three-bucket man. Even so, he always offers ("¿Cashew, amigo?), on the odd chance that I'll buy some this time.
Matt once made the comment that for someone unfamiliar with the nut, the question sounds more like a greeting than an offer.
"¿Cashew, amigo?"
"¡Cashew to you, too!"
There are even times that I want to make it a call and response:
"¿Cashew, amigo?"
"And also with you," I would intone.
I obviously spend way too much time at the internet café.
The cashew (marañon) does intrigue me, though – it apparently grows somewhere here in Guatemala. Marañon vendors are everywhere, and are all ready to sell you a handful. You rarely see cashews in Yucatán, and then always just the fruit (also sold here in the market and incorporated into some lovely desserts).
Ahh, desserts.
To break the monotony of writing, I have taken to eating breakfast at a little place right next door to the internet café, called Doña Luisa's. Now, for those of you familiar with Antigua, saliva does, in fact, ruin a keyboard, so please wipe it up before it does any permanent damage. For the rest of you, I will explain. Or, at least, recite.
Fresh-baked banana bread. Banana-chocolate bread. Whole wheat bread. Warm pies, fresh out of the oven. Mixed fruit pie (papaya, mango and pineapple, with an oatmeal crust that Zeus would be happy to use in his ambrosia pie). Raspberry pie. Mango. Pumpkin. Honey and raisin. Cheesecake. And wonderful coffee.
Some mornings I eat pie for breakfast and get one to go, eating it before I get to the house, 2 blocks away. Doña Luisa makes cookies and cakes, but I would know nothing about them. I go for pie.
The week has been a tough one. In addition to several bureaucratic setbacks (Matt is trying to register and fix his truck and push the permit through), my writing has not gone well, as I am struggling to get a new and improved NSF grant proposal written. At my deepest moment of despair, however, I got a wonderful note from a friend of mine who has been there. David Morgan wrote me the following:
The beginning of the rainy season has brought with it earthquakes (the explanation I got was that water lubricates the tectonic plates, but I am not so sure…). We have had a couple of good ones this week, each measuring more than 5 on Richter's scale. I missed one of them - walking down the street is not the best frame of reference for feeling minor vibrations - but the other hit while I was in bed watching a movie Wednesday night. It is still a novelty for me, so I like them – it is pretty exciting sensing the earth's power like that. I always get a little euphoric when I feel them.
Typhoons, though, are a different story. Apparently the unthinkable occurred, and a typhoon (named Adrienne) formed in the Pacific and went east instead of west. School let out on Thursday and Friday in anticipation of the devastation we were supposed to get. It hit Salvador instead, leaving us with some of the prettiest weather we have had since my arrival.
On a different note, I took the "jade" I found in Barbarena to a local jade shop to see what they thought about it. According to my informant in the USA, the piece is malachite. That is confusing on a bunch of counts – my field guide states that malachite is soft and dense, having a higher specific gravity than jade. At Jades, S.A., they ran the specific gravity test on both, and the dark green one had a specific gravity lower than jade. The lighter-colored one, though, was high enough to be jade (or malachite). But both are hard - a steel file left metal shavings behind when I scratched it, which indicates a hardness of 7+. Malachite is 3.5-4. So is serpentine. Chalcedony can be green, but it has different fracture.
So I don't know what the stuff is. It is hard enough – the knife doesn't scratch it (jade samples don't, either). It is dense enough – it sinks in the chemical specific gravity tester at Jades S.A. It is green. An archaeologist named Norman Hammond once referred to this kind of stone as "social jade". It might not be nephrite or jadeite, but it does look like a duck and it swims.
I need to finish the grant this weekend, so that Tuesday I can head to the border to "renovar" my car papers (see the April 11 edition of the journal for previous border trip). We had planned on making a border run from the Petén, but we haven't made it that far, yet. And it is not looking good for getting there early this week, either, but fieldwork is always one delay after another. For that reason, I didn't get too excited about Matt wanting to get to the field before I was finished writing the grant (he planned on leaving last Friday). There are always delays, and it turns out that Matt will not be leaving earlier than next Friday. I'll probably go with him. And maybe buy a small bag of cashews for the trip.
Your favorite nut,
Crorey
"¿Cashew, amigo?"
Every time I head over to the internet café, I am greeted at the door by a guy with three buckets. One is filled with roasted peanuts, another with habas (the salted, roasted lima beans mentioned in the May 7 entry), and the third with cashews. He sells them by the pound, by the handful, by the bucket. The cashews are a little expensive, but they are expensive for a reason. Raw, they are very poisonous.
And processing them is dangerous. We tried roasting them over an open fire in Brasil, and the results were edible, but the side effects were disastrous. I was the only one who didn't break out in hives immediately after the roasting process (I alone watched the fire from a safe distance, then, vulture-like, descended on the spoils). The only reason we did it outside is because we learned from somebody else's experience. Barbara and Charles Lawton went to Brasil before us, and they tried roasting cashews in the oven. When Barbara opened the oven door, the fumes hit her square in the face.
About a week later the swelling had receded enough to allow her to open her eyes.
So it is reasonable to expect that cashews would be expensive. Knowing that they are expensive, I always smile and decline the offer from three-bucket man. Even so, he always offers ("¿Cashew, amigo?), on the odd chance that I'll buy some this time.
Matt once made the comment that for someone unfamiliar with the nut, the question sounds more like a greeting than an offer.
"¿Cashew, amigo?"
"¡Cashew to you, too!"
There are even times that I want to make it a call and response:
"¿Cashew, amigo?"
"And also with you," I would intone.
I obviously spend way too much time at the internet café.
The cashew (marañon) does intrigue me, though – it apparently grows somewhere here in Guatemala. Marañon vendors are everywhere, and are all ready to sell you a handful. You rarely see cashews in Yucatán, and then always just the fruit (also sold here in the market and incorporated into some lovely desserts).
Ahh, desserts.
To break the monotony of writing, I have taken to eating breakfast at a little place right next door to the internet café, called Doña Luisa's. Now, for those of you familiar with Antigua, saliva does, in fact, ruin a keyboard, so please wipe it up before it does any permanent damage. For the rest of you, I will explain. Or, at least, recite.
Fresh-baked banana bread. Banana-chocolate bread. Whole wheat bread. Warm pies, fresh out of the oven. Mixed fruit pie (papaya, mango and pineapple, with an oatmeal crust that Zeus would be happy to use in his ambrosia pie). Raspberry pie. Mango. Pumpkin. Honey and raisin. Cheesecake. And wonderful coffee.
Some mornings I eat pie for breakfast and get one to go, eating it before I get to the house, 2 blocks away. Doña Luisa makes cookies and cakes, but I would know nothing about them. I go for pie.
The week has been a tough one. In addition to several bureaucratic setbacks (Matt is trying to register and fix his truck and push the permit through), my writing has not gone well, as I am struggling to get a new and improved NSF grant proposal written. At my deepest moment of despair, however, I got a wonderful note from a friend of mine who has been there. David Morgan wrote me the following:
"Crorey,
Two years ago, after writing a brilliant NEH proposal I thought was sure to go through (and didn't), I was inducted into an elite organization. I don't know if membership allows me to tap others for entry, but I shall try. Here are the initiation words that Ian Brown sent to me:I think I like Ian Brown. I know I like David. It was just the right note, at just the right time. And it felt like a piece of mango pie going down, washing down all the bitterness.
'Welcome to the Losers' Club. As a lifetime member, I find it's really not too bad. For one thing, membership fees are negligible and the coffee is pretty darn good. Do keep in mind that a 30% rate of grant success is an extraordinary accomplishment, so for ever one that you are awarded, two will be deep-sixed. Even when you hit 25% you are doing exceptional. That's small consolation when you get the bad news however. Most people get so depressed that they stop trying, which is what the diehards like us want them to do. After all, we don't let just anyone into our club.'
Congratulations, and my condolences,
David"
The beginning of the rainy season has brought with it earthquakes (the explanation I got was that water lubricates the tectonic plates, but I am not so sure…). We have had a couple of good ones this week, each measuring more than 5 on Richter's scale. I missed one of them - walking down the street is not the best frame of reference for feeling minor vibrations - but the other hit while I was in bed watching a movie Wednesday night. It is still a novelty for me, so I like them – it is pretty exciting sensing the earth's power like that. I always get a little euphoric when I feel them.
Typhoons, though, are a different story. Apparently the unthinkable occurred, and a typhoon (named Adrienne) formed in the Pacific and went east instead of west. School let out on Thursday and Friday in anticipation of the devastation we were supposed to get. It hit Salvador instead, leaving us with some of the prettiest weather we have had since my arrival.
On a different note, I took the "jade" I found in Barbarena to a local jade shop to see what they thought about it. According to my informant in the USA, the piece is malachite. That is confusing on a bunch of counts – my field guide states that malachite is soft and dense, having a higher specific gravity than jade. At Jades, S.A., they ran the specific gravity test on both, and the dark green one had a specific gravity lower than jade. The lighter-colored one, though, was high enough to be jade (or malachite). But both are hard - a steel file left metal shavings behind when I scratched it, which indicates a hardness of 7+. Malachite is 3.5-4. So is serpentine. Chalcedony can be green, but it has different fracture.
So I don't know what the stuff is. It is hard enough – the knife doesn't scratch it (jade samples don't, either). It is dense enough – it sinks in the chemical specific gravity tester at Jades S.A. It is green. An archaeologist named Norman Hammond once referred to this kind of stone as "social jade". It might not be nephrite or jadeite, but it does look like a duck and it swims.
I need to finish the grant this weekend, so that Tuesday I can head to the border to "renovar" my car papers (see the April 11 edition of the journal for previous border trip). We had planned on making a border run from the Petén, but we haven't made it that far, yet. And it is not looking good for getting there early this week, either, but fieldwork is always one delay after another. For that reason, I didn't get too excited about Matt wanting to get to the field before I was finished writing the grant (he planned on leaving last Friday). There are always delays, and it turns out that Matt will not be leaving earlier than next Friday. I'll probably go with him. And maybe buy a small bag of cashews for the trip.
Your favorite nut,
Crorey
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