Monthly Archives: May 2016

Pepenar, Pepenando (to scavenge, scavenging)



CA, Mex

transitive verb
: to scavenge, to scrounge

Yesterday we saw a niece and her family in the back of their pickup, and they told us they were going to pepenar in a nearby potato field that had recently been harvested. This morning at her house, she gave us some of the very good potatoes, most of them a bit nicked in the digging-up process. I popped them into my slow cooker when we left for the fields, and when we got back around 7 p.m., they were just perfect! 

Supper tonight will be smooth white potatoes with sour cream, maybe a little butter, some onion tops (no chives around here), and some of the good cheese we have, with steamed zucchini. Soon.

But right now we’re still drinking lots of water. It’s been so hot lately!

Tractor Tires

Here’s my friend Josefina and her helper – early morning sweepers.


This morning, bright and early, we drove our new red tractor to the llantero, tire guy, about 3/4 of a mile from here. Since we’re going to use it starting tomorrow (already!) we had to get the tires filled – get this – with water. Water. I didn’t have a clue.

We backed the tractor out of our garage, and started up the street to the carretera, the highway that’s in the process of being reconstructed. On the gravelly, dusty highway, we made our tractorly way to the tire repair guy, Pancho. He repairs and fills all kinds of tires, and is an pleasant guy. We got to his shop and sat there for awhile as he began.

A woman we know passed by, carrying sacks full of plastic bottles to recycle. She used to come to our house every couple of weeks to pick up the bottles we save for her, but she hadn’t come lately, and we had several fertilizer sacks full of bottles. They had been there so long the sacks had begun to deteriorate.

As it so often happens, and as it turned out, she is the aunt of a neighbor woman. In these small ranchos, nearly everyone has relatives in the surrounding ones. We often see her trundling by on the highway, carrying bags of plastic bottles to sell to the recyclers.

There’s a very small hardware store very to close to the tire repair place, and we walked over there to get a couple of things for the tractor. We needed a new what’s-it-called, thingy to drop through the holes to hook the disc to the tractor. when we received our tractor, the holes weren’t properly aligned to do the hook-up,

IMG_2126      IMG_2128

and we needed to either enlarge the holes or get a smaller thing to drop in there. And one of the nipples for greasing had broken off, so we bought a new one of those. The hardware store had all sorts of things to keep me looking, as do many hardware stores:  nest boxes for parakeets, fish hooks in two sizes, rope, and fiddly little things necessary to keep your house running well.

Next to the hole-in-the-wall hardware store was a restaurant that serves seafood, and we had resolved to spend our hour-and-a-half there to have some breakfast. There was one thing on the menu – shrimp cocktail. We ordered a large one to split between us, and it was excellent! I watched as the owner prepared it for us. In the kind of tall glasses with large bases you’d expect, he started with about a half-cup of water (shrimp water?) he dipped out of a plastic bowl. Then he added the shrimp, and as I watched he chopped up onion, then tomatoes, and then avocados. He poured a red liquid over the top (probably Kermato or Clamato, maybe with some sweetener added). And then, voila! he brought them to the table and opened a cardboard box of Saltines, called Saladitas here. It was excellent, and a wonderful breakfast. It cost less than six dollars for the two of us.

The tire man finished filling the tires with water, and we headed for home on the dusty, bumpy highway. Once there, we parked the tractor behind the house and started filling the big water tank in the back of our pickup so we can dump water in the bottom of a narrow ditch our workers have been cleaning. It’s been so hot and dry that it required pick-axes to break the surface of the ground in the dry ditch.

And then, the señora showed up to get the bottles, so we helped to re-bag them in newer plastic sacks. This is the first time I’ve seen 100-lb bags that are a green color. They deteriorate rapidly in the sun. Farmers use these sacks by the hundreds and thousands, so it’s a wonderful thing that they are clearly biodegradable. This woman is a widow, and supports herself by picking up bottles along the highway. She walks several miles every day.


We had six or seven sacks to fill with the plastic bottles. We have a few bottles that we buy ourselves because we purchase Coke-a-Cola to serve to visitors (that’s about all they care for), and I pick up bottles whenever possible while we’re working.

Music – More Gigs For Our Big Little Band!

Recently we’ve been hired to play more Catholic masses, and more parties. If you’re curious, here we are paid about the same in pesos as we were in dollars in the US. A dollar is worth around 17 pesos right now. We don’t do it for the money.  We do play out of devotion to what we were born for – music.

We played for a fiesta last Sunday – a big birthday party held in a nearby ex-fertilizer vendor’s warehouse. We received mixed reviews. A man who worked for 25 years in Nevada and Montana loved it. Two tables of women sat and listened to every single song, hardly talking.  An older man asked for “Mexican music! Don’t you play Mexican music?” When Chon announced “This next song is pura Mexicana! I wrote it myself, and I’m Mexican.” The guy and his wife got up and left after the song.

The menu was puro Mexicano – carnitas and sopa.  (Dessert came later). When a pig is butchered and cooked in an enormous copper kettle it’s called carnitas. Sopa here (sounds a bit like soup, doesn’t it?) is what you might call Mexican rice. The recipes vary, but it is almost always red rice. Some recipes have more ingredients, like diced carrots and peas. It’s always good.

We played different styles of music. We played cumbias (check out cumbia rhythm: it’s one of the most infectiousand non-boring rhythms I’ve heard, ever). We played baladas, slow songs. We played rock ‘n roll. We played rock. We played original songs (very popular). We played songs in Spanish and English. We played until after 11 p.m., and we had been hired until 9 p.m. It’s typical that Chon plays better and better, and sings better and better the later it gets. (Look up the word “duende”). He’s an astonishingly good singer, guitarist and composer.

WOMEN helped us load up our equipment! Women! They stayed on and on, chatting, until nearly everyone had left. They loaded our heavy equipment into our big truck, and then loaded us with food to take home. Most of these parties are well armed with to-go plates and containers and aluminum foil. We had food for a week! There was at least two pounds of carnitas which I prudently packaged and froze.

Although the fiesta was less than 5 miles away we arrived home very late indeed. We had to call it a success.

And here’s a truth about local Mexican audiences: in general, they’re surprised by us as a band. The first thing they notice, other than we’re only two people, is that we don’t play banda. They love banda. They expect banda, that ubiquitous mix of Spanish lyrics, simple, repetitious  melodies, and what I would call a tuba band. Instead, they get something more like a rock band. We have big equipment, enough to produce sound for large crowds. We have a large truck to carry equipment – you should see the stares when we show up.

If you are a musician, or have some knowledge of what you see on a stage, you may wonder how we do it. Among the pieces of electronic equipment we carry are two drum machines, programmed by us. We would love to have a live drummer, but it’s just not likely to happen. I’m a classically trained singer and keyboard player, the person you might see singing on a stage with a chorus and orchestra, or in an orchestra pit accompanying a musical comedy, and I use two synthesizers. On one synthesizer I play bass with the left hand, and lead parts like introductions, and accompaniment parts like strings and piano sounds as well.

Chon is a very, very, very good guitarist, with many years of experience playing in a bar and touring band from Chicago. He has extensive training and on-hands experience in sound engineering. He also has impressive skills as a composer. He has written literally hundreds and hundreds of songs for church services and live performances of all styles.  I love it sometimes when we’re recording or practicing and I tell him that I think what I’m playing on the keyboards sounds boring, and he thinks for a couple of seconds (literally) and then says “Try this.” And sings me a riff or a melody or a rhythm. He has stunning ideas!

A Short Cow Tale


I lived many years on a big sheep ranch in the mid-western part of the US. An average of a thousand ewes each gave birth to one, two or three lambs each year. Did you know that female sheep have friends? They stay friendly with their daughters and sisters for their whole lives. And  did you know that in a herd of a thousand mama sheep baby lambs who fall asleep and wake up to find the herd some distance away can find their mothers? They can.

This morning we walked down early to the wheat fields. It was cool, and just lovely. To get where we were going we passed the house of a retired man and his wife, recently returned to Mexico. He has created a nice little homestead at his house that was empty for years.  He has a nice pickup,  a small corn field, a small corral, a cow and several dogs (more and more seem to show up). I noticed the cow right away last winter, and I noticed again after she had a baby. I wondered briefly where she had come from. I found out today, and nobody had to tell me.

A good-sized mixed herd of cattle was moving out to graze in the recently-shorn wheat field next to the tidy little homestead and as we walked I saw a large two-year old heifer separate itself from the herd , and stop to stare towards the cow, visible in her corral under a shade. The heifer mooed softly, and the cow stared back, and began to twitch her tail and walk back and forth in the corral like a caged animal. She bellowed and bellowed and the heifer bawled and bawled, then ran rapidly to the fence that divided them. It stayed there, as near to the cow as it could, and then, long after the herd had walked a good distance, she reluctantly turned and walked very slowly along the fence line, stopping every now and then to look back.

Who knew? Cows have families too.

Made A Move!

With skilled help (thank you, E!), I’ve moved up, and Galileo’s life in Mexico picks up close to where you, gentle readers, left off. And it IS close, even if some time appears to have lapsed. Really, really heavy events have occurred – events like a death in the family, growth in the agriculture department including a big purchase, unlovely guests, and growth in different parts of our musical lives. OK, gotta go and find some wonderful photos to illuminate my scribbles! Ta!


Preview: before sunrise this morning in the wheat fields!