Maria, Maria

A week ago Saturday, Dagmar and I went to Maria´s house for what we thought would be lunch, but what turned out to be an afternoon of outdoor cooking and dinner with she and her family. It was an awesome afternoon. Maria is our "boss" in the garden. She´s a 32 year-old Bolivian woman who emigrated to Argentina with her four children and husband three years ago. Her sons often come with her to work, before going to school in the afternoon (I´m still not sure why they only go to school in the afternoon). Javier is 15, and loves riddles and listening to my iPod. Nelson is 8, and very smiley, despite his shyness. Nector is 9, energetic and playful. Maria´s daughter, Andrea, is 12, and until Saturday, we hadn´t met her.

We arrived around 2:30, after walking about twenty minutes using the directions Maria had given (without any street names or numbers--Maria and her husband don´t know the name of the street they live on). Knowing that Maria´s family had emigrated from Bolivia for work, and that her husband works at a nearby strawberry farm, while she works for about $15 a day at Eco Yoga Park, I had expected their home to be small and poor. which it was. What I didn´t expect, though, was the beautiful, fragrant orchards and gardens that surround her house. Maria´s family rents a house that is behind another house, owned by a man who lives in the city. He only comes by on Sundays, to check on the place. The property he owns, and that Maria´s family enjoys, is beautiful.

In addition to the fruit trees and flowers everywhere, Maria has a two vegetable gardens, plus a chicken yard with several chickens, for eggs and meat, and geese. After a tour of the property, Maria put Dagmar and I to work, cooking a feast for us to eat for dinner. One thing I love about Maria, is that she loves food. At least half of the conversations we have while working in the garden are about food. "What did you eat for breakfast this morning?" "What do you think we'll have for lunch today?" "Are there any chapatis leftover?" "What kind of cake do you like best, and how do you make it?" Since the first day I arrived, though, the dish that stood out among all others was lasagna. Dagmar and I both had described to her fifteen different ways to make lasagna, at least. I gathered that she had eaten it somewhere, or maybe just had heard of it, but had never made it before.

So, naturally, that´s what we made on Saturday at Maria´s house. Lasagna with a chicken/spinach/carrot tomato sauce and a soft cow's cheese that Andrea brought back from the neighbor´s dairy farm. Made pretty much without utensils (chicken shredded and sauce mixed by hand!) and baked, along with everything else, in the mud-and-brick outdoor oven. Along with this, pizzas with the same sauce and cheese, salad, rice, and cake. Dagmar and I left at dusk, stuffed and happy.

While visiting Maria´s home highlighted the many ways in which our lives are a world apart, it also helped me understand her a lot better. On Monday, when we saw each other again, I felt differently about her. Where I had once gotten frustrated with some of her habits, like never giving specific directions for the tasks she wanted us to do ("Go weed over there," she´d say, pointing vaguely. "Where?" I´d ask. "There! There!" she´d say, slightly more impatiently), now I would just tease her about it, and she, too, seemed much more at ease with me (Dagmar had left the previous day). Those hunger-inspiring conversations have continued, and though we may never cook lasagna together again, I can´t wait to make chicken lasagna again when I get home.