Yesterday started out as a nice day, but by 9:30 we had a brief period of rain. I had already planned that Darío and I would go down to the taller and get the rest of the wood he needed to finish the one table (I wanted a shelf) and build the second.
I let Darío haggle over the wood–as usual, he insisted that they cut fresh pieces to his satisfaction–while I, as usual, just hung around and enjoyed myself. I’d seen chickens wandering around before. Yesterday, though, was a special treat–a mother hen with 6-7 chicks ( little hard to count with all the hustling and bustling) scratching earnestly in the sawdust. There were two saddles tossed over some milled lumber; a horse was moving around out in back of the taller within a small corral with a shelter in it. More chickens wandering in and out of the taller; the chicken shelter was attached to one side of the taller and the corner of the little corral. This sort of thing–the combination of living and working–is one of the delights I find in rural Latin America. We used to live near a tourist town in Washington, one that was first described to me as having a “case of near-terminal cuteness”. After my first trip to Brasil, I always thought that it could be enhanced by a flock of chickens wandering the streets, but no such luck.
On the other side of the taller were massive blocks of wood, some 10 ft long, others 12 ft, which are the most common lengths around here; some blocks were easily 1 1/2 ft on a side, perhaps more–my sense of distance/length is about as accurate as my sense of time. There was about a 6 ft section of tree trunk, maybe 18″ in diameter, bark still on. I watched as Darío supervised the trimming of a block of wood that would become our 1″ tablas for the shelves.
I’ve never done any pottery, my carpentry “skills” are abysmal (actually, nonexistent), I can’t lay brick or block (I can, however, mix mortar), but no matter–I love hanging around workshops, watching wistfully as craftspeople of all types work at their trades. I used to spend hours on the construction site when our house was being built, watching admiringly as the walls went up, the beams were welded and then installed, the floors poured and polished (by hand), the repellos added.
I am a chemist by training. It did not surprise me when I learned that while physics arose from speculation, chemistry got its start in the dye vats and pottery glazing of the ancient Egyptians. Physics is a country I like to visit from time to time, but chemistry is where I choose to live. We chemists are a practical sort, down to earth, getting our hands dirty, with a natural affinity for crafts of all types. Just as I admire a well-executed experiment, I truly appreciate what it takes to build a well-crafted cabinet.
As usual, taken by the chickens, I asked Darío when the best time would be for raising them. December, he said. We’ve wanted to raise chickens for some time, but there have been other priorities. I think we’re ready now. So, at the end of November, he’s going to build a chicken casita for us, with a strong fence–not to keep the chickens in but to keep Fred and Ethel out, chicken chasers that they both are.
As soon as we returned, Darío started in on the tables. While it rained steadily, he measured, sawed, and hammered to his heart’s content. He loves projects like this.
The wood, he told me, is called mayo. In May, the trees are covered in beautiful yellow flowers; the tree itself is called flor de mayo. He remarked that the wood is linda, and he’s right.
So now the tables are finished, ready for a coat of polyurethane. One is 2″ lower than the other to accommodate Mary and her plant photography–at least until potting shedcreep sets in–I’m such a slob.
Total cost to date: $80 for wood, about $3 for nails, maybe $10 for Darío’s time.
Oh yes, I have (mostly) figured out the way wood is sold at these tallers. Last time, I noticed that somehow the total length of wood I’d bought was more than I was charged for. I realized that the jefe had figured in the width of the wood as well as the length. A board foot appears to be 12″ length by 12″width by 1″ thick. So, a board that is 8″ wide by 10 ft long by 1″ thick is actually only 7.5 board feet. When I calculated the cost on that basis, it almost came out right. I say “almost” because we still seemed to have gotten more wood than I paid for. Yesterday, same thing. I paid for 31 ft of wood but actually bought 34 ft.
But then, unlike Darío, I don’t walk in the taller and greet the workers with “Buenos días, hermano”. Therein may lie the difference. Or maybe, who knows, they’re just giving their version of a baker’s dozen.
Filed under: Chiriquí, construction
