This day starts with madre Margarita lighting a fire in the house. In the hearth. The hearth!
“¿Por qué?” (-Why?) I ask naive. It’s warm today and furthermore: one of the walls in the kitchen is made of chicken wire – so the heat wouldn’t stay in the house anyway…
“I cook frijoles!” I get as an answer. Continue reading “Misunderstanding – that’s Spanish to me. Or isn’t.”