Carnival de Carne (Meat) . . . in our refrigerator

"Life is an adventure."

This is what I tell myself often, and what I've been chanting to myself all morning long.

Ernesto and I went to San Jose this weekend to celebrate his sister's birthday a few days early (the party, by the way, was great, but that's another post . . .)

We asked two American gals who are interns at the Institute if they'd like to house-sit for us while we were gone.  We didn't really need anyone to watch the house, but both girls were eager to take a break from their regular accommodations and gladly accepted.

As we were showing one of the girls, Dani, around the house, Ernesto says, "Oh!  I almost forgot.  Some guy is going to drop off half a cow on Saturday."

Dani looked to me in confusion, and I looked to Ernesto in confusion.  "Half a cow?  What are you talking about?" I asked him.

"Ulisis is slaughtering a cow tomorrow and selling the meat for 1,500 colones a kilo (about $3 for 2.2 pounds).  I asked him to bring me a bunch.  It's great, we're getting all the good stuff - like the ribs, the back, the shoulder."

I'm not sure Dani and I had much to say at that point.  Neither of us is accustomed to buying cow torsos and really, I had no idea what to expect.  They clearly didn't either.

I called the girls on Saturday night to make sure the deal went down smoothly and the house was fine.  Dani explained to me that Ulisis had indeed come with the cow, but he had brought it in one giant cut, which was stored in a giant sack used for sand-bagging.  The girls were expecting the meat to be butchered into select cuts (as I had also expected), and weren't prepared to accept a giant sack of cow.  Dani tried to ask in broken Spanish how they could cut the cow, or if he could cut the cow. 

The farmer continued to say, "Just cut it" - clearly perplexed that the girls didn't find this next step obvious.  They never were sure if Ulisis offered to further butcher it for them or not. Farmer Ulisis, I suspect, assumes that the average human being knows how to properly butcher a cow.  And, in San Luis, he might be right.  But not with our crowd.

So the girls hesitantly accepted the sack of meat and were pondering what to do with it when they notice that the sack was bleeding.  Searching in earnest to find a garbage bag to put the sack in, they came up empty handed.  Desperate at this point, they both set their eyes on my yellow rain poncho, which was hanging on the clothesline. 

So they wrapped the meat sack in the poncho, removed a shelf from the refrigerator, and then stuck it in the fridge. 

It is still in the fridge, in the poncho, and it is up to Ernesto to find someone to cut the cow by tomorrow so that it can be frozen in properly cut pieces.

Then it will be up to me to dowse the refrigerator in all sorts of disinfectants.

In my next post, I will report on the "revenge of little Mickey" - a vengeance that I fear might last through summer.

Life is an adventure, life is an adventure, life is an adventure!!!!!