Category Archives: suegra
Crying in El Salvador
When we went to El Salvador in 1999, I was woefully under-prepared. With a trip to Europe and an afternoon in Tijuana under my belt, I thought I knew what to expect, but El Salvador threw me for a loop.
The weather was hot, I got sunburn and a urinary tract infection, the mosquitoes ate me alive, Suegra arranged for the baptism of my baby without permission, I had to sleep in a hammock, no one in the family had hot running water – (and that’s when the water wasn’t completely shut off), the baby had colic and cried almost non-stop, there were no seat belts so I thought we would all die in a car crash and I was starving because my gringo doctor scared me off eating most of the food saying I could get really sick.
After spending a sleepless night being eaten alive by mosquitoes and trying to hush my colicky baby, Suegra insists we have our son baptized. As you can see, I was crying.
It was unbearably hot and the baby was crying too. Even though I told the Tio not to, he began to strip off the baby’s clothes to cool him down.
More crying. (Carlos and the baby.)
The baby got to bathe in water warmed on the stove. I wasn’t so lucky.
Carlos enjoys a coconut and a break from all the crying.
On a pony… getting ready to cry.
And yet, ever since we left I’ve been saying that I want to go back — I guess I’ve always known that none of this was El Salvador’s fault – it was my fault because I wasn’t ready for it and I was being a spoiled American, (and come on, traveling with a baby can be hell even under the best circumstances.) I could see El Salvador’s beauty even through my tears. There was so much I loved, but I was so completely overwhelmed that I couldn’t take the time to experience it the way I wanted to. The only thing that has prevented another visit has been the expense – year after year, we just haven’t been able to afford it.
More than a decade later, everything has fallen into place so that we’re finally able to return, and the kids, (thankfully at an age that won’t require diaper changes or preparing bottles) – deserve to see where their father came from – a place which probably seems more make-believe than real to them at this point. El Salvador – as if Carlos and I invented a fairytale land of volcanoes, paletas, stray dogs, careening buses, pupusas, debris of war, the sound of green parrots flapping their wings, unexpected downpours which disappear as suddenly as they came.
And so, we re-new our passports with plans to travel sometime in August. We hope to bring back plenty of photos of us smiling, laughing, eating pupusas, climbing a volcano, riding the bus, and abandoning Suegra at a Tio’s house, lest she unexpectedly arrange my forced baptism.
___
Related Links:
My Salvadoran Crocodile Dundee
[Today is Spanish Friday but I won't be translating my entire post to Spanish today. Instead I will offer some vocabulary and phrase translations of the Spanish that appears within the dialogue at the end of the post.]
“Is that a snake?”
It was too late to be going anywhere, but Carlos and I were in the car, pulling out of the driveway. The plan was to sneak out and get ice cream without the kids or Suegra tagging along. The headlights lit up something black and twisted by the side of the road near our mailbox.
“Nene, that’s just trash or something.”
“No.” He put the car in park and opened the door, “that’s a snake.”
I got out too, rolling my eyes. That big, black, twisted thing was just a trash bag or something. Where did he think we lived? The Amazon Rainforest? As if a snake that big would just be hanging out near our mailbox.
We walked up to the object. I carelessly walked closer to it than Carlos. The “piece of trash” slithered.
“Oh my God,” I said, backing up and standing behind Carlos, “it’s a snake!”
“I know,” he said, “I need a flashlight, I can’t see it well.” He started back towards the house, leaving me and the snake to entertain each other.
The snake started to move towards our house. I picked up a big rock and threw it in his path, but missed. I threw another rock which landed right in front of his nose. The snake reared back and opened his little mouth. I stood my ground, armed with another rock, freaked out but determined not to let it anywhere near the house, until Carlos returned with a flashlight and a broom, the kids and Suegra trailing behind.
Carlos uncoiled the snake with the broom and it became clear that it was at least 4 feet long and, venomous or not, aggressive. The original plan was to carry the snake on the broom over to the nearby woods but the snake did not cooperate, and instead made every attempt to come at us or go towards our house.
Suegra kept telling Carlos to throw it in the road so the passing cars could run over it.
“Ay! Dejala, hijo,” she pleaded, “Las culebras pueden tirar veneno a tus ojos y vas a quedar ciego!” (She must have seen an episode about spitting cobras on National Geographic en español.)
“I’m going to have to kill it,” Carlos said to me. We didn’t want to, especially not knowing if it was even dangerous, but we didn’t want to take the chance of it getting into our house and hurting the kids.
“Traigame algo por matarla,” Carlos said to no one in particular.
Suegra and our youngest son ran off for the house.
Suegra returned first… with a weed whacker.
“Mamá,” Carlos said, exasperated. “Cómo voy a matarla con eso?”
Our youngest son, an animal lover, came out of the house with the white bucket that Suegra uses for washing her chones.
“Can we just capture it?” he asked, holding out the bucket.
“Cipote!” she said, grabbing it from him, “No! Con mi cumbo, no!”
“Get the machete,” Carlos said. I went to our closet and got the machete.
Carlos chops the head off
Doing away with the body, which was still moving
Head of the snake on the tip of the machete
All of the commotion attracted a crowd of gringo kids who had been playing flashlight tag or something in the neighbor’s yard.
“Dude, what’s going on?” one of the gringo kids said to my older son, seeing Carlos with the machete, looking like some sort of Salvadoran Crocodile Dundee.
“My Dad killed a snake,” my older son answered, his voice calm, as if this was a normal activity for our family.
I really wanted Carlos to ask me if I was alright after the whole snake thing went down so I could be silly and use a line from the movie, but he was too busy putting everything back in the shed that Suegra had thrown all over the yard when she had pulled out the weed whacker.
…but since it’s my blog, I’m going to pretend that he turned to me as he re-sheathed the machete.
“You alright?”
“I’m always alright when I’m with you, Carlos.”
—Vocabulary for this post—
Nene – baby (term of endearment, from woman to man.)
Machete – A big ass knife
Suegra – mother-in-law
Culebra – Snake
Chones – Underwear
Ay! Dejala, hijo – Ay! Leave it, son
Las culebras pueden tirar veneno a tus ojos y vas a quedar ciego – Snakes can spit venom in your eyes and you’ll be left blind
Traigame algo por matarla – Bring me something to kill it
Mamá, Cómo voy a matarla con eso? – Mama, how am I going to kill it with this?
Cipote – kid/male child (Salvadoran slang)
No! Con mi cumbo, no! – No, not with my bucket! (“Cumbo” means container or bucket. Salvadoran slang.)
————
Did you participate in Spanish Friday? Participaste en Spanish Friday?
Leave your link in comments! Deja tu link en comentarios!
Drunk on Happiness
It was sometime last year, during the summer, that I stopped at a gas station downtown while out running errands, having found my tank on empty once again.
Suegra happened to be along for the ride, sitting next to me in the passenger seat. I pulled up to the pump and shut the car off. As I blindly rummaged in my bag to find my debit card, I watched a couple cross the parking lot, laughing so hard that they had to hold onto one another for support as they walked. I began to smile, feeling their infectious happiness, but Suegra clicked her tongue.
“Borrachos,” she muttered, shaking her head.
“Drunks?” I said, “Maybe they’re just happy?”
Suegra looked at me like I was stupid. I shrugged my shoulders and got out of the car.
The rest of the day, and even a year later, I still think about that moment because it so clearly demonstrates how one’s outlook on life can change any situation.
Is your friend a child or a pig?
One day my oldest son was telling Suegra about a classmate, and in describing the classmate, my son mentioned the boy’s height.
“He’s about this tall,” he said in Spanish, holding his hand out flat, palm down.
Suegra snorted.
“Is your friend a child or a pig?”
And with that blunt question, we learned something new – Holding one’s hand out, palm down to suggest height as we do in the United States, is used only to describe the height of animals in El Salvador.
Hand gesture to suggest height of human or animal in the United States, this hand gesture is used only for height of animals in El Salvador.
In El Salvador, if you want to describe the height of a human being, you must hold your hand with your fingers pointed up, palm facing out, (the way we hold our hands to say “stop” in the United States.)
Hold your hand out like this to suggest height of a human when in El Salvador.
Which hand gesture do you use to suggest height? Is the hand gesture different for humans and animals?
Related link: My Hands Speak Spanish, too
Día de las Madres with the Tíos
My Día de las Madres was … not normal.
I will let my tweets tell the story.
11:59 am – Salvadoran relatives just showed up without calling & I’m not wearing a bra. Fantastic.
1:31 pm – now we’re off to the National Mall for the day. Love these last minute plans inlaws come up with.
2:50 pm – Suegra took us to Roy Rogers for lunch & complained it’s too $. Tio is taking fotos of the Fixins Bar ROFL
3:12 pm – OMG Carlos esta pidiendo permission por los tios to take a foto in front of the portrait of Roy Rogers #muriendo
4:42 pm – Just saw a guy taking a photo in front of Washington Monument holding it as if it’s his penis #creativetourist
Unfortunately, I stopped tweeting after that because I was too busy rushing the Tíos through the museums. (Most of them close around 5:30, but of course, since this trip was last minute, nobody thought about that.) … Since I’ve been to the museums a million times I would be like, “Este es el gorro de Presidente Abraham Lincoln,” – then I would rush to the next interesting thing while they took photos, call Carlos on his cell phone and tell him where to meet me next.
My method would have worked better if the Tíos were more obedient, but they kept wandering off. Nine times out of ten we’d find them admiring some type of taxidermy animal.
In case you don’t believe me:
Faces alterted to protect the somewhat innocent.
Thankfully I did have time to take a few more artistic shots that didn’t involve large Arctic animals. I’ve taken a million photos of the Washington Monument, (though I don’t have one where I’m pretending it’s a penis) – so I always try to get a new angle on it… This is my favorite from yesterday.
And my older son took this photo of me and Carlos.
Tracy and Carlos, Washington D.C. 2011
I also filmed inside the METRO station as a souvenir for the Tíos. Surprisingly, the video does not end with me throwing myself in front of the train, but only because it was Mother’s Day and the kids were there.
The music… it helps you.
This post is dedicated to all the musicians out there who make music and share it with the world – the famous and the not so famous. Thank you.
The other day I took Suegra on an errand. As is my habit, I started the ignition, put on my seat belt, pressed play on the CD player, turned the volume up, and then checked my mirrors before backing out of the driveway.
Lately I’ve been playing the hell out of my Pitbull CD. I can’t play it around the niños but Suegra doesn’t catch the dirty lyrics. She did say once that she doesn’t like the Pitbull CD, but my car, my rules. (Sometimes I joke with Carlos when he changes the stations on me, “Don’t you ever touch a white girl’s radio, boy!”) [Rush Hour reference - warning: strong language in video] …
Suegra knows better than to complain too much though since I don’t like taking her on errands in the first place. Besides, I’ve caught her out of the corner of my eye tapping her fingers to the beat.
This particular day we’re driving along – a gringa and an elderly Salvadoran woman, with Pitbull blasting from the speakers. The sun is shining, I put on my sunglasses, roll the window down a little. Despite being on an errand with my mother-in-law, I’m feeling good. I’m smiling, moving to the beat, sauvecito – just a little – not so much that I look like a loca – happy to be alive and thankful for what I’ve got.
Suegra breaks my trance, yelling to be heard over the music, “Tracy, ya no tomas las pastillas para la tristeza, vá?”
I tell her that no, I haven’t taken medicine for depression for several years now.
Suegra nods, is quiet for a moment. We stop at a red light.
“La música…te ayuda, ¿verdad?” she lifts her chin in the direction of the radio.
Now it’s me who is quiet. I’ve never known Suegra to be especially insightful so I’m shocked into silence by the realization that she understands something so deeply personal about me without me having ever breathed a word of it aloud.
The music…it helps you.
Yes – I answer her. The music helps me.
Patriotism & Hot Dogs
What is more American than hot dogs? – At least that’s what I used to think.
I remember the first time I proudly served Carlos hot dogs. They were perfectly grilled in a nice soft bun. On the table – ketchup, mustard and relish so he could put whichever combination he liked. After we ate I asked him what he thought of our dinner. His response? “They were okay… but I like the hot dogs in El Salvador better.”
Qué qué?! Hot dogs in El Salvador? … When I was actually able to accept that they do indeed eat hot dogs in El Salvador, (and I later found out that there are variations around the world!), I refused to accept that they could be better than AMERICAN hot dogs – because hot dogs are from “AMERICA.” … {Star Spangled Banner plays in the background} … I never knew how patriotic I was until he insulted our hot dogs.
Well, over the years, I’ve come to accept that even though I’ve brainwashed him into liking peanut butter and jelly and other such American delicacies, he will always believe Salvadoran hot dogs are superior to American hot dogs. He still talks about the hot dog vendors in the streets of El Salvador in the same way one would wistfully describe a beloved girlfriend they had left behind.
Sensuntepeque, Cabañas en El Salvador
.
I have even tried to accommodate my husband by preparing the hot dogs in a more Salvadoran fashion. Per Carlos’s instructions, this involves:
• Slicing the hot dogs in a spiral
• Making sure the hot dog is cooked well done (either grilled or fried in oil)
• Toasting the bun
• Preparing a cabbage & mustard topping
I don’t know if that is officially a “Salvadoran hot dog” – but that’s how he’s asked me to make them. Here is how I make the cabbage topping.
___
Salvadoran Cabbage Topping for Hot Dogs
You need:
1/2 a small cabbage head shredded
yellow mustard
salt and pepper
oil
Method:
Heat a few tablespoons of cooking oil in a pan over medium-high heat. Add cabbage – frying while stirring for a minute. Add a few tablespoons of mustard. Continue to cook until cabbage caramelizes a bit, but don’t cook until soggy. Add salt and pepper to taste. Serve on top of hot dogs.
___
As for Suegra, she goes one step further – she eats her hot dog inside of a tortilla.
Suegra's hot dog
EL PAPEL
(Today is Spanish Friday, in which I blog in Spanish. Need an English translation? It’s down below!)
Yo estaba diciendo a mi hijito que él dejaba un papel en mi escritorio que necesitaba por la escuela. Recientemente, ni modo si estoy super fustrada cuándo los niños no entienden mi español, yo me rehúso a cambiar a inglés. Es frustrante pero así es la vida bilingüe, no?
Por lo tanto, le repetía a mi hijo,
“La papel está en mi escritorio.”
“What?”
“La papel que quiere tu maestra está en mi escritorio.”
“What? Can you just say it in English, Mommy?”
“Tu maestra, tu profesora, en la escuela – ella quiere la papel que está en el escritorio en mi habitación – la dejaste allá.”
De la sala, mi suegra elevó la voz, “EL PAPEL!”
“¿Qué?” Me molesto por la interrupción.
“EL PAPEL! … Estás diciendo ‘la papel’ … es EL PAPEL.”
Oigo su risa. No me importa ser corregida, sino porque ya estoy fustrada, su risa me hace sentir defensiva. Me decido a ponerla en su lugar.
“Estás riendo pero ni sabes cómo decir papel en inglés!” dijé.
Antes de que podría sonreir de satisfacción, ella gritó otra vez desde la sala,
“Y no es ‘PAPER’, pues?”
ENGLISH TRANSLATION:
I was telling my youngest son that he left a paper on my desk that he needed for school. Lately, no matter how frustrated I get when the kids don’t understand my Spanish, I stubbornly repeat myself, sometimes changing the phrasing slightly – but refusing to switch to English even when they ask me. It’s frustrating but that’s bilingual life, right?
So I kept saying to my son,
“La papel está en mi escritorio.” (The paper is on my desk)
“What?”
“La papel que quiere tu maestra está en mi escritorio.” (The paper your teacher wants is on my desk)
“What? Can you just say it in English, Mommy?”
“Tu maestra, tu profesora, en la escuela – ella quiere la papel que está en el escritorio en mi habitación – la dejaste allá.” (Your teacher, your professor, at school – she wants the paper that is on the desk in my room – you left it there.)
From the other room, Suegra pipes up, “EL PAPEL!” (The paper!)
“¿Qué?” (What) I snap, annoyed at the interruption.
“EL PAPEL! … Estás diciendo ‘la papel’ … es EL PAPEL.” (The paper! You’re saying ‘la papel’ – it’s EL papel.)
I hear her giggle. I don’t mind being corrected but because I’m already frustrated, her giggle makes me feel defensive. I decide to put her in her place.
“Estás riendo pero ni sabes cómo decir papel en inglés!” I say. (You’re laughing but you don’t even know how to say paper in English!)
Before I can smirk in satisfaction, she yells from the other room,
“Y no es ‘PAPER’, pues?” (It’s ‘paper’ isn’t it?)
___
Participaste en Spanish Friday? Deja tu link en comentarios!
Did you participate in Spanish Friday? Leave your link in comments!
White Socks
I am not a fashionista. It has only been in recent years that I have dared step beyond jeans, T-shirts and chanclas to mix it up a little and try to find my own unique style, (which still involves an inordinate amount of jeans, T-shirts and chanclas.)
That being said, for some reason, Suegra looks up to me as if I’m a hot celebrity who is up on the latest trends. Should Suegra have a fashion question, it is me she consults. I do my best to advise her, with the very little fashion knowledge that I possess.
So, the other day Suegra comes to me modeling some new shoes. They were formal black, women’s shoes… and she was wearing them with white socks. I told her that unless she’s Michael Jackson, a Catholic school girl, or wearing a poodle skirt, that white socks with black shoes were absolutely unacceptable.
A few days later, we’re getting into my car to run errands. Suegra points to my shoes, outraged.
“White socks! You said no white socks with black shoes! Why are you wearing white socks?!”
I look at her confused, look down at my shoes, and then back at her.
“I’m not wearing white socks,” I said. “That’s my skin.”
Maybe a little time in the sunshine wouldn’t hurt.
Jarritos!
(English translation available below.)
Cuándo Jarritos me invitó a probar unas botellas de sus bebidas y compartir mi opinión aquí en Latinaish.com, claro que la acepté. Tengo muchos años tomando Jarritos y es una de mis cosas favoritas.
Entonces, recibí la caja por correo ayer – (Suegra estaba super curiosa – Preguntandome por qué me mandan los Jarritos. Expliqué que es para mi “trabajo” … Ahora sí, ella piensa que soy alguien muy importante. Jajaja…)
Las ponía al refrige para que se enfríen y las saque en tiempo de cena. Ahora eran los niños que estaban curiosos. No dejo que tomen muchas bebidas con calorias – mejor que tomen leche o agua, pero todo en moderación. (Y los Jarritos tienen sólo 100% azúcar natural – nada de high fructose corn syrup.)
Los sabores que tuvimos fue: tamarindo, mandarina, tuttifruti, jamaica, limón, toronja, guayaba, piña, fresa, mango, y cola.
Carlos afirmó el tamarindo para él muy rapido, y me cae bien porque nunca me ha gustado el sabor de tamarindo en nada. Mi hijo mayor quería cola, (que me gusta mucho), y mi hijo chiquito quería mandarina, (que también es buena.) … Por curiosidad abrí la botella de jamaica porque, para mí, Jamaica es un país – no un sabor. No tenía ningúna idea que jamaica es un tipo de flor. Bueno, no me gusto. Suegra rapida venía, “¿Es de sabor jamaica?” preguntó. Le dijé que sí y ella me la quitaba por probar. “A ver sí es buena,” dijó, tomando un trago. Después, Suegra dijó que le gusto mucho, (y me explicó que jamaica es una flor.)
Siempre me ha gustado el sabor de sandía, pero no habia un Jarritos de sandía en la caja. Abriendo todas las botellas y echando un poco de cada sabor en una taza, probe todas. No creo que puedo selecionar una favorita. Me gustaban todas, (salvo jamaica y tamarindo.) …Guayaba, piña, y fresa son muy buenas, pero toronja y limón son más refrescantes. En fin, hay un sabor de Jarritos por cada sabor de persona.
Link: Puedes mandar una botella virtual de Jarritos a tus amigos en Facebook. ¡Qué chévere!
Divulgación: Los productos fueron recibidos con el propósito de la revisión. Esta revisión contiene sólo mi opinión sincera. Esta no es una revisión pagada.
—English Translation—
When Jarritos invited me to try some of their drinks and share my opinion here on Latinaish.com, of course I accepted. I’ve been drinking Jarritos for many years and they’re one of my favorite things.
So, I received the box by mail yesterday – (Suegra was super curious – Asking me why they sent me Jarritos. I explained that it’s for my “work”…For sure she thinks I’m someone important now!)
I put the bottles in the fridge to get cold and took them out later at dinner time. Now it was the kids who were curious. I don’t let them drink anything with calories too often – it’s better that they drink milk or water, but everything in moderation. (And Jarritos are made with 100% natural sugar – none of that high fructose corn syrup.)
The flavors we had were: Tamarind, Orange, Fruit Punch, Jamaica, Lime, Grapefruit, Guava, Pineapple, Strawberry, Mango and Mexican Cola.
Carlos quickly claimed the Tamarind for himself, and that was just fine with me because I’ve never like tamarind flavored anything. My older son wanted the cola, (which I really like), and my little son wanted Orange, (which is also good.) …Out of curiosity, I opened the bottle of Jamaica, because to me, Jamaica is a country, not a flavor. I had no idea that Jamaica is a type of flower. Well, I didn’t like it. Suegra appeared, “Is that Jamaica flavor?” she asked. I told her that it was and she took it from me to try. “Let’s see if it’s good,” she said, taking a swig. Afterward, Suegra said she really liked it, (and she also explained that Jamaica is a flower.)
I’ve always liked watermelon flavor, but there wasn’t a watermelon Jarritos in the box. I opened all the other bottles and poured a little of each into my cup one-by-one to try them out. I don’t think I can pick a favorite. I liked all of them, (except Jamaica and Tamarind.) Guava, Pineapple and Strawberry were all really good, but Grapefruit and Lime were more refreshing. In the end, there’s a Jarritos flavor for every flavor of person.
Link: You can send a virtual bottle of Jarritos to your friends on Facebook. Chévere!
Disclosure: These products were provided for review. This review contains only my honest opinion. This was not a paid review.
Did you participate in Spanish Friday? Leave your link in comments!
