Hacienda Mixiuhca Update, plus Hurbanaventuras

First, the bad news. Then, the good news.

It's been a fungal massacre, with all this damn rain. I lost ALL of my basil plants.

There has also been a chicken massacre, and in this way I lost ALL of my salad greens.

Regardless, I still have a bunch of okra, all my tomatos, two of my cukes, and some marigolds (though I did have to sacrifice some of them for reasons of exaggerated competition). I'm trying out this upside-down hanging planter idea that NPR told my mom about. Furthermore I have abandoned the idea of organic ag in the city. It's not space efficient. Ergo, slow-release granular fert from Mercado de Jamaica. Tomorrow: photos.

Now, Hurbanaventuras:

I helped one friend give a basic bike-repair workshop downtown today, near the Monument to the Revolution, and brought Marcos' grandpappy's bike to fix that sucker up a bit. The plan was then to quickly drop it off at home, then go meet my other friend in the Coyoacan metro station. However, the plan was somewhat derailed when we took too long on the bike, so I had to go straight to Coyoacan, bike and all. Which practically isn't a problem, since on Sundays they let you take your bike on the Metro. Regardless, the problems came after I decided the metro was lame and rolled the whole way there on two wheels (which felt SO GOOD after three and a half months of total bikelessness!!). The guy just didn't show. I however took the opportunity to chitchat with an old man selling tiny pueblan pies and then the Metro police (who are less trigger-happy, fortunately, than BART police...) and suddenly this guy with a funny accent shows up and asks where the center of coyoacan is. I tell him I can help him get there, since I am at this point TOTALLY done with waiting for my no-show buddy. So I give him the mini walking tour of the joint, and he invites me to eat, to which proposal I wholeheartedly agree. He then picks this hella trendy spot right on the Coyoacán plaza, all typical Mexican colors and dishes, all girls with scarves and hip boots and guys with intellectual glasses and stylized hairdos, and we order some of the best chilanga tlayudas I have ever eaten, a glass of pulque (which he found disgusting, though I like it), and a couple caballitos of strong-as-hell mezcal. It turned out he's a Colombian lawyer, and he was leaving for his home turf this very night. The point is, it was this sort of Universe-speaking-to-me kind of moment and it was kind of fun to share some of the Mexico I've discovered with a lost foreigner. It was this weird consolidation exercise... okay. to bed. tomorrow i'll post hacienda pictures... buenas noxes.

I'm Cultured like Yakult, Sucka!

*Note, this post was written several weeks ago, in fact DURING the Argentina-Mexico game, which brought us all to the conclusion that that we needed was for Chicharito to make fewer damn sandwiches and play more damn soccer. ** --The Editor

In light of the iminent slaughter of the Mexican team by the Argentinians, I think I should direct the topic away from fútbol and toward, uh, other pursuits.

Now, onto more intellectual issues. A museum exposition that I saw semi-recently was "The Invisible World of René Magritte" at Bellas Artes. Maybe I haven't posted a photo yet of Bellas Artes' magnificent orange dome, but I shall do so soon. Regardless I have a photo of the facade, and of one of the amazing wooden sculptures in exhibition outside. These 12 giant wooden heads are supposed to be the Apostles. As far as I can tell each is carved from a single piece of wood, which is to say they used some big damn trees to make this project, which makes my inner environmentalist a little sad, especially knowing a bit about the state of Mexican logging policy ("Log the fuckers!!!!"). Oh well. It's also quite close to the Torre Latinoamericana, an impressive skyscraper with a big antenna on top. Furthermore, the electric buses pass right by on Eje Central/Lázaro Cárdenas. Their little antennae fall off all the time just like the SF buses. Ah, a little bit of home right here in Mexico City.

Okay, so the Bellas Artes building is cool for various reasons, the first and most obvious of which is the exterior architecture, very old-and-made-of-stone looking, big, impressive, with the dichoso orange dome. Secondly, it's another prime and excellent example of the amazing sinking soils described in one of my July posts from last year (holy goodness, I've been here very nearly one whole year!!), as the building is in a funny little well. Thirdly, lots of people hang around in its marbly plaza, and I might remind you that México DF is make-out city, so sometimes you have to observe more tonsil hockey than you'd really like. Fourthly, it's right next to the Alameda, the park in downtown that is the subject of an amazing Diego Rivera mural available for goggling in a nearby museum. Fifthly, the interior contains these amazing art-deco-mexica designs and luxurious period interior design.

The permanent exhibit consists of 2 floors of murals: my favourite is the Diego Rivera one which features a serious-looking Charles Darwin hanging with his homie the chimpanzee, as well as various communistic, scientific and artistic figures of the pre-WWII 20th century. Giant cells and such.

Now, Magritte. The art of course was wonderful, because it was absurd, smooth-textured, oddly soothing in that trippy wild kind of way. BUT the coolest part, aside from the detailed descriptions of the artist's social life and personal history, was the interactive absurdist-art section. It was mainly designed for kids but we overgrown kids found it quite delightful ourselves.

First it featured a shelving unit for mislabeling things (as Magritte enjoyed doing in his day...). It contained everyday objects with profound or ordinary words pasted on labels in front of them, with a kid-friendly explanation that you don't have to call something what it really is, but that you can also use it as a placeholder for another idea. Cool, right?

The next part had a desk full of magazines, with instructions on the wall to cut out words at random and make absurdist poetry. Past that there was a series of giant plywood cards with pieces of images on them: fish head, horse shoulders, lady chest, business-suit crotch, chicken knees, mermaid tail, etc. which you were supposed to use to create physical non-sequiturs on your own body (for the photographic enjoyment of your friends and strangers!). Then there were mirillas, little diorama-boxes built into the wall with the tiniest peephole to see the tiny universe within, sometimes a little figure, or a rock, or whatever. Then , the ginormous blackbord. whereon you were supposed to draw figures. Finally, there was the wall of birds: in the center of the room was a long table with colorful pieces of paper and pencils, with instructions to write and/or draw about a dream you once had and cut out the piece of paper into the shape of a bird, and stick it to the wall. It was pretty cool, seeing little kids' dreams all over the place. I can never remember my dreams so I cut out a bird shape (okay, a duck, really...) and handed it off to marcos, who commenced to draw cockroaches with eyes on their backs (a super cool image, which later he created realistically in photoshop...). This we stuck to the wall.

Now of course for the life update. I'm still working like a dog 6 days a week, trying to live it up on my half-weekends (boy do I feel robbed!) but it's all good. My colleagues are awesome and so are most of my students; today I had an interesting mixture of students: an 18-year-old Nepalese girl and an army liutenent (who's one of my favorite students because he's just so out of control-- he's freakin' hilarious, even in his half-English). I teach kids pretty much every day for at least an hour, and they use this book called All Aboard, which is a pretty cool series, actually. Most of the adults use the book "Interchange" which is a sort of general-purpose life-English, with lots of stupid dialogues and things. Then there's "Market Leader," a British book about business and shit like that. They give me a lot of those classes because they're really into the jive of "hey look at us we have a Gringa! Aren't we special?" But it's cool; most of those students are pretty advanced and there's sometimes cool readings and interviews to listen to; and I can find cool stuff on the internet to supplement the book's hella square attitude (like the other day when I gave one student a short reading on Grameen Bank and microloans, and to another I gave an article about Gross National Happiness... you know, things like that).

Meanwhile, the fowl are getting fowler, fatter, and more sexually dimorphous. I'm bummed to announce that El Morado is indeed going to be a rooster, which means probably eating him younger than I'd like... and that means deciding how I'm going to do the slaughter and fast (where the hell can I go that nobody will see me?? Yargh). The tomatos are tired of growing and although they're small I think I'm going to go ahead and let them flower, throw on some more of the old NPK and see what happens. Next post I'll go on with my special fish-waste/crushed-corn prepared feed which is going to go on hiatus due to the fact that it makes the apartment smell like ASS even though it saves me a bucket of money. Le sigh.

Ah, last bit, tying chamba together with hacienda: the school is offering a summer day-camp in which there are about ten kids who I spent my friday teaching to garden, making little milk-carton seed beds, learning about plant anatomy, guessing plant smells, generally frolicking with dirt, and daring them to touch worms. All told, a pretty successful event that kept the kids rapt for a good hour and a halfish.

Okay, I send long-winded nostalgic greetings to California and all the many people I love who are still there. I toast the pecan-pulque I am currently guzzling to all y'all. Goodnight!

Merkado de Trueke and the Friendly Hippies I Found There

Things have been pretty mellow around here, just working my butt off and trying to have some fun in the in-between spaces. In the latter effort I have been taking pictures of the few friends I'm able to see these days. In the following pictures you'll see me with Pamela and Lupita in my kitchen (in two lovely portraits with microwaves and water heaters...in which you should also note that my hair has grown long enough to put in two awkward-tiny french-braids! Though I will be the first to admit my lack of braiding skills, resulting in very weird hair situations sometimes), Alfredo (who recently learned to wrap a turban, much to his delight and much to my amusement at his colour choices... and in this photo is featured with a living example of how Mexico City is the public-make-out capital of the Universe) and Marcos, with whom we discovered a freakish double-banana at the corner store, which required a proper digital portrait.

This is Hacienda Mixiuhca's first trip into the wide world: yesterday some hippie group put up a little one-day-only bartering market in my hood, so I dropped in after school (would have brought some plants and participated but I saw on the Internets that you had to be "registered" to participate-- lame!). Anyway I dropped in, as I said, saw the middle-aged guy that runs the cooperative coffee shop near Jamaica, and met some kids who live in this crazy 6-story co-op in a squathouse in a nice neighborhood, with about thirty people, called Chanti-Ollin, which is Nahuatl (language of the Aztecs and related linguistic groups) for something like "Living Movement". They have composting toilets, gardens, bike-powered technology and other bitchin' projects. Worth checking out if you're a domie (or post-domie, though I say that once a domie, you're always a domie, so there's no such thing as an ex-domie, with very few exceptions). Anyway, the point is that I'm finding some good sources of anti-civilization vibes, sweet urban resistance projects, etc...

And then I talked to some kids who live in the Honorable National House for Students, which is a co-op, and houses kids from other states who come to study in the Federal District and have limited financial resources and they have a big hydroponics project on their roof. I visited them today, so the photos you see here are from that particular place. It was built in 1911 for that same purpose, but it, like any co-op, has gone through some rough moments in its history. Regardless, it seems in good spirits today. It's located in the infamous neighborhood of Tepito, a region of beautiful and dilapidated colonial architecture, pirated (insert any noun here)s, and the most barrio of the barrios of Mexico City, supposedly. I've never been scared in Tepito, but I've never been scared anywhere in the city, to be totally truthful. Regardless, it's supposed to be very dangerous. I must emphasize, however, that Tepito is NOT a "ghetto." Ghetto implies an isolation, a desperation, that comes with having no economy. Tepito is a buzzing economic microcosm of illegal everything, but very successful, despite the endemic poverty and rampant violent crime, robberies and other such delights. Anyway, so you squeeze between some street stands selling backpacks and batteries and keychains and other sundries, and knock on the beautiful and seriously degraded old (and gargantuan) wooden door. One of the locks is missing so you can see right in through a sort of accidental peephole. Figures move around within, in the sunlit entryway. The doorframe is a marvelous carved stone affair with images of various disciplines, which you can see in their photostream, which is pretty cool. There's a small plaque at 3m above the ground, that declares the building, buried though it is in a mess of informal commerce, the historic institution that it is (actually, it has been declared a Historical Monument by the National Institute of Anthropology and History). A bespectacled boy with a ponytail answers the door. I explain I met some of his housemates at the Barter Market in Mixiuhca and that I wanted to see their hydroponics project. I indicated that I had brought some seedlings to make it worth their time. He told me he was already headed that way and invited us in. He took us up to the tippy-top terrace, a wiggly-floored brick affair with a view of countless concrete rooves and the plants that grow in their accumulated muck, water cisterns, and two or three old church bell towers. On the kneewall of the terrace were small paintings of mushrooms and things with wings. A collection of tomato seedlings sat around in pots of dirt on one side, and a plastic-enclosed hydroponic system hid behind them. It's constructed of a series of 4-inch PVC pipe with holes in the top. Elbows on one end of each pipe permit each to be filled with nutrient solution, and a connector on the other with a 1-inch elbow sticking out permits the water to drain when directed downward, into another 4-inch pipe, that drains the excess downward into some kind of catchment to be reused. It's really cool! They germinate their lettuces in petri dishes and let the seedling grow up in little tiny dixie cups in some kind of mix of coconut husk and vermiculite with what I suspect is humus mixed in there. Then they stick them in little round holes in the top of the 4-inch PVC. It's pretty genius. The kid said the hard part was coordinating people. Yeah, tell me about it (can I get a witness, domies?). But he was really nice for showing us around, and even though he didn't seem to want my plants (though another kid took me up on my offer of basil plants, I learned that eggplant and okra are not too popular). Anyway, so that was that. I hope to see more of those folks, because it seems like an interesting place.

I hope to be able to visit Chanti-Ollin next weekend, so you'll probably be seeing shots of that crowd next week.

Hacienda Mixiuhca in Photos, plus, Quejas y Sugerencias

It's raining hard tonight, and through the window I can see the lightning flash and hear the thunder growl. I spent most of the afternoon arming my third planter box and transplanting things into it. Frankly I have more plants than space, but ain't that the way. Maybe I can find somebody who wants some seedlings...


Whatever. The biggest news in my life is that my mom is awesome and generous and for this reason I got the most badass graduation present of all time: a Nikon L110 digital freakin' camera. That's right fools, be jealous. Okay, but more importantly it means that I can photographically document my existence.

Okay, let's start with the fuzzies. You can see in the first photo the three trememdous birds that seem to be taking over my life: their names are El Verde, El Morado and La Pata. They are roaming around on the living room floor as I allow them to do a couple nights a week, which of course is followed by an intensive floor cleaning. It's worth it though to see them run around so cute in the house. They chase each other; we throw them crumbs and scraps and then they fight over them. Then suddenly they panic and go scrambling across the floor like maniacs. And of course, they never. shut. up. Then I have a picture of the little buggers in their "corral" which is actually just another planter box with a bit of netting over it. I'm going to have to block the holes under the cage so that they can run around loose in the cage without escaping. But for now this is the best I can do. There are some queries and questions I have about their proper alimentation and rearing. I have read that they need "grit," sand or fine gravel to mash fresh food up in their gizzard but I don't know what kind is acceptable. As far as calcium sources, I'm not sure what to do, maybe I can get some spare oyster shells from the marisquerías in the Jamaica market and crush them in a stone molcajete (Mexican mortar and pestle) or something. I don't know how fine the oyster shell has to be, or anything like that. I suppose I'll have to keep researching...

As you can see, the cage is a total wreck right now. We have all of Marcos' house painting supplies up there, plus dirt (which I brought home by taxi in a rainy Sunday adventure with Marcos to the Jamaica market, which I promised will be featured in a near-future post, because it's famous for its flowers, so it's kind of amazing), plus crates, dirty duck newspaper, "watering cans" of various materials... a whole slew of god-knows-what that is making the neighbors complain. Just the other day Marcos and I were on the roof before work and this man comes up from apartment 8 to tell us he thinks we're going to ruin the waterproofing on the roof. I say we've got it under control because everything is going to be elevated on upturned bricks, but he keeps preaching, and Marcos gives me these looks from behind the guy's back of "tell him he can suck it!" but of course I keep diplomatic and run the "don't panic sir, I'm an engineer" line, and he eventually goes away. Regardless, gave me a scare. I worry about being hated for my antics, and have fever dreams about evictions and angry townspeople bearing torches.

Regardless, there is a bright future ahead (I mean, just look at that gorgeous view from the rooftop...). I nearly have the third box built and it's all going together soon. Photos soon.

In the meantime I'll go through the inventory of photosynthetic beings: we have approximately 15 baby little basil (albahaca) seedlings (--> pesto and bruschetta in my future...) and some little cilantros (slow-germinating little buggers!), a bunch of recently-germinated sunflowers (though I think they're going to be part of my guerrilla project down by the Metro entrance once they grow a bit, more on that later), an oregano and a lavender in the apartment, about 20 eggplants, six Armenian cukes in a paint can, a ton of marigold (cempazuchitl), some "rooster crest" (another flower, Celosia argentea var. cristata, according to a not at all intensive or academically acceptable investigation I just did in Google; photo gracias a http://www.flickr.com/photos/29280961@N03/2992976166/, whose flikr album includes the appropriate comment, "joder, que flor más rara!"), about thirty okras just barely pushing their fuzzy cotelydons skyward, four tomatoes, and a bunch of mustards and Asian greens. It's not a bad variety, really. I just soaked and planted some more cilantro, so I'm hoping for a continuous crop... I just gave a cuke to the fruit vendor in front of the Metro entrance, and he told me he'd bring me a guava sapling (WTF am I going to do with a sapling if I don't even have space for herbaceous plants? But, hey, I'm stoked that little practical detail notwithstanding). So I'm kind of thinking about trying to rig up some kind of hydroponic doodiddy, you know, like those hanging bags of strawberries and tomatoes-- holy goodness, I gotta get me some strawberries.

Then, of course, there's my muchachas, my worms, who may have to be moved to avoid the intense heat of a Mexico City roof in summer. I had bought them from a little garden shop run by Gringa expats in the swank Colonia Roma, at 50 pesos for 40ish worms. Anyway, so I passed them of to Alf and we set them up a little crate on his begardened roof and there they lived, and so he passed me some recently and I think they're taking off though they might have suffered a major blow from the heat... I'll have to check on their population tomorrow. Regardless, I definitely have plenty to feed them, so if they survive they'll put me a step closer to a decently improved level of sustainability, or so I hope.

My belly is cheeping

Mi panza está piando.

There are three birds inside my t-shirt, a little yellow female duckling, and two chicks, green and purple, of unknown sex. They are hiding from the cold world as it rains outside, and as the gross color of city lights on smog replaces the stunning blue of the daytime sky (okay, it's only stunning if you look straight upward, because from any more oblique angle you can see the sewage-coloured film of smog between you and the stratosphere even on the clearest of days...).

I think the duck just pooped in my belly button. I guess it's a shower night.

Today's post is about livestock management. Clearly, integrated livestock management in the city involves two important details:

1. Reading the newspaper a couple times a week, and
2. Eating more greens.

And sharing your t-shirt with infant poultry, of course, but that's just a bonus. The newspaper element is all about substrate: it's the floor of their "corral" (aka wooden fruit crate I shamelessly dug out of the garbage-- more on the dumpster diving schtick later), plus I shred it up on top so that they have something semi-comfy to sleep on/search for food under, which is their favorite pastime, other than escaping and consequently freaking out. The part about greens is good for your health but also about creating lots of stems and funky gnar leaves for the chicks to eat (which is amusing to watch as they have not mastered the technique and spend a lot of time throwing around the tiny bits of green stuff). I feel like it's good practice for the steady diet of scraps they will soon be getting.

In economic terms, these animals are not at all expensive: initial investment of animals + a kilo of feed ran me fifty pesos, a bit over four bucks. I'm still using the same feed. Since the corral was dumpster dived, the infrastructure has cost me zilch (though during the day I put them in one of my planter boxes on the roof so they can have some "fresh" air and a bit more space... regardless of which I will not include the cost of building that planter box in the analysis), but the newspaper investment is not negligible: i pay ten pesos (slightly less than a dollar) per paper (for good quality reporting and quality and quantity of newsprint: the cheapest bullshit newspaper you can get runs at three pesos, but it's about a third to half the total paper of La Jornada, Mexico's best newspaper, the one that all the intellectuals read and it's kind of crappy quality paper, all color-printing too, so NOT absorbent), and I've got to buy one every three days or so. So we're talking about thirty pesos a week and I haven't figured out what to do with the used paper. Right now it's all rolled up in another, smaller fruit crate that both chicks are very capable of escaping from. Ideas would be appreciated; otherwise I'll have to throw it out. Maybe I can find something to mulch. Furthermore I don't know what to do for nesting substrate once they get older. I'm planning to build them a little laying hutch in one of the wooden things, using the wooden tray (1m x .5m, 5 cm deep) as the nest and then constructing some kind of angled roof out of wood and Congling the sucker with Tetrapak milk cartons. Thoughts on the matter would be appreciated.

Finally, the topic of the richness of the garbage. This is a middle-class neighborhood, so people throw a lot of shit out. At about ten AM on weekdays, you can hear the chubby ponytailed garbage guy holler, "BASURAAAAAAAAAA" in the parking lot, where he waits around with his little garbage cart. with big objects tied around it, from which blessed apparatus I have scored the following:

1. A coffee table
2. A strange and ugly piece of furniture of which I will eventually post a photo and which I use as a nightstand
3. Three fruit crates (a little one and two big ones)
4. a stool base with no seat
5. a giant waterbottle which is now a pot for salad plants.

The Universe provides. Marcos and I are scheming of ways to get into the dump (which is right across the street) to go on more advanced dives. Further updates as information becomes available.
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Okay y'all, that's the latest on Hacienda Mixiuhca. Be safe, be courteous.

Hacienda Mixiuhca: Cultivo y Cría Clandestina

Okay, so my 6 square meter farm is still kind of theoretical at the moment, but it's definitely in the works. So I live in one of those soviet-style groundscraper complexes, but what we've got aside from a really lovely looking and smelling magenta rose in the parking lot is a cage on the roof for drying clothes. This is the space I have to work with; it is my hacienda.

Hacienda Mixiuhca is rather unimpressive at the moment, with four tomato seedlings (Cherokee Purples! "imported" from la Gabacha (aka Gringolandia, aka El Otro Lado...etc), fancypants lettuces, Asian species of mustardy thing s (tatsoi, mizuna, bok choy, etc), ten or so eggplants, and marigolds. All of this growing in gutted, white-painted waterbottles lying on their sides. The infrastructure consists of 5 wooden trays (1m x .5m) that have been there since Marcos moved in 8 months ago. The plan is to build them up into containers; I'm thinking maybe 18 inches deep (though I'd only fill them to 15 inches-- that should be deep enough for tomatoes, right?). They're pole tomatoes, so I'm hoping to take advantage of the cage situation. The Armenian cukes I plan to swipe from Alfredo (whose roof garden will be the subject of a later post, once I have a digital camera, (which shall be a gradumation present extraordinaire!) can climb up strings I plan to tie to the top of the cage (because I'm going to have to put them on the walled-in side of the cage). The green stuff will have to go in the shadier part of the cage. But since the planters are pretty big, I think it should all go swimmingly. The issue here is cost, of course: the construction of these planters is going to run me from 140 to 280 pesos a piece. (A short one for lettuce, flowers and mustard)... That means about 90 bucks total. Then there's the issue of filling them with soil. At Home Depot (yes, capitalist bullshit palace, but the only nearby resource for such things) a gunnysack of soil runs about 13 bucks (145 pesos). In Tlanepantla, close to Alfredo's house (and about an hour and a half from here without traffic: bus to metro line 2 or 7, transferring to line 9) costs about 2 and a half bucks (30 pesos) piece. Slightly coarser texture, and farther away. I can only carry about one sack at a time, and it's tiring as hell, because they're really heavy. The bus costs about 10 pesos, the metro 3. So that brings the total per-sack cost of soil to 56 pesos, plus a lot of trouble. But considering that's less than half of the cost buying from HD (CBP), and I'll need about two sacks per planterbox, that will make a big difference. So let's see, say I build 4 boxes, one short, three tall: 920ish pesos plus (56 x 8) = 1,368, or about a hundred and ten ish bucks. That's a bit less than what I make per week. But at Hacienda Mixiuhca, we know that these things can be overcome.

Okay, in these harsh times, waste is unacceptable, especially on fabulous haciendas like mine. I have also swiped some worms from the worm crate we rigged up at Alf's place as well. They are currently writhing around in a yogurt tub in my bedroom with some seriously befungused papaya skin. I have a collection of frozen worm food in my fridge for when their population becomes ready for it. I'm trying to decide whether it's better to get a sealable plastic bin from the Home Depot nearby (a semi expensive and cop-outty option) or try to use the wooden crate I picked up off the street, which would have to live on the roof instead of in the kitchen for smellular reasons, is less easily sealed, more complicated, but cheaper and with more street cred. Any thoughts, opinions, designs and other inputs would be appreciated.

And what is an hacienda without livestock? I broke the news of my fowl conspirations to Marcos about a week ago when his Yucatecan buddy came to visit. We were sitting around drinking wine and suddenly I go: "Hey Marcos, what are your feelings about ducks?" And of course he gave me his drunken "what" face and I said, "You know, as animals. What do you think of them?" And of course his response is, "I don't know, I guess they're okay. Why?" So I had to tell him that I was going to buy a couple of ducklings, and asked if it would bother him if I kept them in the clothes cage. "Uh... sure. Why?" "Marcos," I told him in all seriousness, "The best pets are comestible pets." And he considered this for a moment, probably wondering what the nicest way to call me a sick bastard might be, before saying, "That sounds okay. Do you know how to cook duck?" And, okay, the answer is not really, but I mean, this is the age of the Internet. How hard could it be? Furthermore, I have a book of fowl-and-lagomorph rearing instructions from the British Ministry of Let's Not Starve written during the second world war, which is awesome because it's how to grow aminals on the most limited resources possible.

So the plan is to go the market La Merced on Sunday or Monday, pick up some little fuzzies and see what happens.

Viva La Hacienda Mixiuhca!