el nacatamal, por fin

A photo post, as I am short on time. Enjoy!

Things I am still too proud to admit...

The amount of time it took for me to realize that the cobrador isn't shouting allez! to the bus driver as a signal to go.

Da le. Da le. Oh, the world suddenly makes so much more sense.

...Somewhere, I will always be that kid writing the French days of the week on their Spanish quiz, happily oblivious to the fact that it doesn't look quite right.




(New Year's Resolution: Rehabilitate this blog. Perhaps... two posts every six months?)

BEEF: IT'S WHAT'S FOR DINNER

So I live in cowboy country, which other than affecting where I do my laundry (never do it downriver of where the cattle are being watered, never ever,) means there are lots and lots of cows around, always. But most of the cattle here are for dairy, which means there is always cheese and milk but very little meat, since it is expensive. But last week I came home to find NO ONE around, and then, three hours later, this is what my house looked like:









MEAT. EVERYWHERE. Cows are big, right? But you never realize exactly how big they are until you are:
a) standing right next to them,
b) in the middle of a herd while they're moving pasture, or
c) WHILE THERE IS AN ENTIRE COW'S-WORTH OF RAW MEAT FILLING YOUR HOUSE.

The pictures don't really do it justice, but the amount of meat one can get from an adult cow (including intestines and stomach and everything else, to make things like mondongo,) is approximately (I am being very scientific here in my measurements) A LOT.

We gave most of it away, but our ancient little refrigerator is still loaded to the gills. Too bad there are no burgers here... but carne asada? Yes please! (Legs asada, on the other hand... maybe not so much.)