As promised, the additional twelve yards of cascada were delivered, and we can start placing it below where the containers will be placed.
At this point I need to stop for a moment and correct myself. Our workmen are of mostly Panamanian Indian descent and live in the mountains. They have their own Spanish dialect wherein the letter S is dropped and the ends of words trail off and run into the next word, and it can be difficult for us non-native-Spanish speakers to understand. Regarding the word cascada (sand and gravel from the rivers), I have thought that I am close, but I can’t quite get the true pronunciation as it leaves the mens’ lips. It has sounded to me like kacow. The other day our neighbor Ramiro was visiting our jobsite, and I asked him what the real word is. He said that it is cascajo (cas-KA-hoe), the letter J being more like a somewhat silent H. So, there you are, I stand corrected, cascajo it is from now on.
Back to my story. Under a good wind that made for much entertainment, Armando and I spread out sheets of black plastic within the boundaries of the concrete curbs. As we were doing this, Abdiel and Manuelito started the engines on their wheelbarrows and spent the entire day moving the 25 yards of cascajo onto the plastic. Armando manned the rake, spreading an even three-ish inches over the plastic.
At one point, Armando exclaimed, “We have the beach, where’s the pool?” It was a hot day, and I can only imagine that he was wishing he could be floating on an old inner-tube in the imaginary pool.
There’s not much else to say about spreading sand and gravel. Here are some photos:
That’s all for now!