Duolingo Spanish Podcast - Episode 110: Costumbres - Casitas in the Bronx

It’s the end of October, and Leonor Torres heads over to her community garden for the annual Harvest Festival. Members of local gardens from across Leonor’s neighborhood are showing off their biggest and strangest vegetables. There’s a squash as long as a man’s leg, enormous eggplants, or berenjenas, and all sorts of colorful peppers and tomatoes. Hay cincuenta o sesenta personas. Todos traen sus vegetales porque hacemos competencias. Una vez nuestro jardín ganó con una berenjena enorme. La pusieron al lado de mi nieto de cuatro años para sacarle una foto, ¡y era más grande que él! Leonor’s local garden is called “El Flamboyán” and it surrounds a small, one-story house, or casita — which literally means little house in Spanish. The casita has a green roof, a veranda with a red railing, and a lilac-colored shed next to it. Salsa music plays in the background, and the gardeners chat mostly in Spanish. Nos sentimos en Puerto Rico en esa casita con su jardín. Es un lugar tranquilo y familiar, como las antiguas casas del campo. Back in the 1950s, these types of casitas were found throughout the Puerto Rican countryside. But Leonor isn’t in Puerto Rico. She’s in New York City, in a busy neighborhood in the South Bronx. Se oyen los carros, la gente caminando por la calle. Hay una escuela al lado, hay una carnicería en frente y otra tienda detrás. Es una zona urbana, pero El Flamboyán nos lleva a otro mundo porque es como un recuerdo del lugar de donde venimos. Welcome, les damos la bienvenida al Duolingo Spanish Podcast. I’m Martina Castro. This season, we’re exploring customs, or costumbres from the Spanish-speaking world to help you improve your Spanish listening, and to learn more about daily life in other cultures. In today’s episode, we travel to New York City to learn about the customs of the community gardens — and their casitas. And a quick word on the Spanish you’ll hear in this episode. Our storyteller is from Puerto Rico so you will hear the S is often aspirated. You’ll hear an “h” sound rather than the typical “s” sound, so some words, like “esposo” will sound like “eHposo.” Also, the R’s are often pronounced like L’s, as in “recueLdo” instead of “recuerdo.” Leonor grew up in the 1950s and ’60s, in a rural town called Barceloneta on the north coast of Puerto Rico. It was quiet and friendly. And she lived in a small house with her parents, surrounded by relatives and the countryside. The loudest thing she heard was the song of Puerto Rico’s native frog, el coquí. Nosotros teníamos una casita con un jardín, donde había tomates, pimientos y árboles de frutas. Mi papá tenía cerdos, conejos y gallinas. Era un lugar muy tranquilo y no se oía casi nada, solo el sonido del coquí en la noche. Then in 1970, when Leonor was 19, her life completely changed. She became a mom to a baby girl. Her daughter’s father had moved to the U.S. for work, and she wanted to be with him. So just four weeks after giving birth, Leonor got on a plane with her newborn daughter and left home for New York City. Durante esos años, mucha gente se iba de Puerto Rico porque no había trabajo. Ellos buscaban trabajo aquí en Estados Unidos para tener estabilidad económica y ayudar a sus familias y muchos se iban al Bronx, en Nueva York. In those years, the Bronx was undergoing a big demographic change. Longtime residents were leaving the borough for the suburbs, while at the same time more people were coming from Puerto Rico, like Leonor. By 1970, a majority of the South Bronx was Puerto Rican. But…it was a very different world from the island. Llegué a Nueva York en octubre, pero había mucho frío y había mucha nieve en las calles. Mi pareja me tuvo que llevar un pantalón de hombre porque yo solo tenía faldas ligeras. No había autobuses, no había trenes, ni taxis, ni nada para salir del aeropuerto, así que tuvimos que caminar. Leonor settled into her new life in the South Bronx. She had another daughter. She got used to braving the cold, and hearing trains and people at night instead of the coquí. Still, some things were harder to get used to. La situación era horrible. Había muchas casas abandonadas y mucha gente vivía en las calles. Yo me sentía muy mal porque había tanta gente sin casas y tantas casas abandonadas sin gente. Esas casas estaban completamente destruidas y nadie las arreglaba. A veces había incendios y las casas se quemaban. In the 1970s, the Bronx was severely neglected by city leaders. Discriminatory real estate practices and widespread corruption led to many buildings being burned to the ground. By the end of the decade, 80% of housing in the South Bronx had gone up in flames. Homelessness, drugs, and violence were rampant. But still, Leonor made her home in New York city and she focused on her family and raising her children. Me separé del padre de mis hijas. Luego, conocí al hombre que ahora es mi esposo y juntos tuvimos un hijo. Yo siempre estaba cuidando a mis hijos o trabajando, y por eso no salía mucho de mi casa. And that’s how life was for about two decades until Leonor noticed something new was happening in her neighborhood. En 1991, cuando tenía cuarenta, empecé a ver que hacían fiestas y eventos en un jardín aquí en mi calle, así que decidí ir para allá. Just down the street from Leonor, a local couple had turned an abandoned lot full of garbage into a garden. They built a small wooden house on the property, una casita, just like the casitas in Puerto Rico — and planted vegetables all around it. They even added flags, or banderas. They called the site El Flamboyán, named after a tree with bright red flowers that’s common in Puerto Rico. La casita era marrón y las paredes adentro eran amarillas y verdes. Se veía bien bonito. Había una estufa, una nevera y una cafetera para hacer café. No tenía luz, pero había un generador de electricidad. Afuera estaba la bandera de Puerto Rico, la de Estados Unidos y unos cajones para frutas y vegetales. This was how some Puerto Ricans took matters into their own hands, creating beauty among the urban decay around them. They claimed abandoned lots, and built more than a dozen casitas, surrounded by gardens, just like the ones that used to dot the Puerto Rican countryside. They painted them tropical colors, and turned them into miniature extensions of Puerto Rico in the middle of New York City. Era una casita como las casitas antiguas que había en Puerto Rico. Tenía la misma arquitectura y había un jardín. Yo crecí en una casa un poco diferente porque una parte era de cemento y otra parte era de madera. Pero esta era como las casas antiguas del campo. Leonor began to spend many afternoons at the garden, she did a bit of everything, from planting — sembrar — to hanging out with the founders and other neighbors. Pretty much all of them were from Puerto Rico. Nosotros siempre limpiábamos bien el jardín y cortábamos las puntas de los árboles para que pudieran crecer. Yo barría la casita casi todos los sábados y ayudaba en el jardín si había que sembrar algo. Jugábamos bingo y dominó. ¡Me encantaba estar ahí! The garden came to life. Aside from the games of bingo and dominoes, they played music and threw parties. Sometimes they even hosted musicians from New York and Puerto Rico. Leonor used to watch the famous bachata band Aventura practice in their garden. La gente traía maracas, guitarras, tambores, una marimba y otros instrumentos para tocar salsa y bachata. A veces venía gente de Puerto Rico a tocar música tradicional. Nosotros bailábamos y cantábamos con ellos. During this time in the 1990s, the casita, which was traditionally a home in Puerto Rico, took on a new role for Leonor’s community. It became a sort of social club, a distilled version of old Puerto Rico in a small lot between the brick buildings of the Bronx. It wasn't a place where people lived…but it still was a home away from home, where they could preserve many different customs. La gente que iba para allá era como mi familia y había una señora que era como mi mamá. Yo la cuidaba y le compraba comida. Yo iba al jardín desde el mediodía hasta las ocho o nueve de la noche casi todos los días. Sembraba o hablaba con la gente. A veces había una fiesta o algún evento especial. Recuerdo que allí celebramos muchos cumpleaños de mi nieto. As this was going on, the South Bronx was going through a major transformation. Developers were coming in and putting up homes and new construction on abandoned lots and old buildings. By the early 2000s, change was coming to Leonor’s block. Estaban construyendo más y más. Al lado del jardín había una casa privada y una tienda de puertas. Un día, las demolieron y construyeron un edificio enorme. Esto estaba ocurriendo por todos lados, pero yo creía que El Flamboyán iba a estar ahí para siempre. Leonor didn’t know it, but all over the neighborhood, cranes, or grúas, were turning old properties into new buildings. Casitas were being demolished. Since they had been built on abandoned lots, most of their caretakers didn’t have an official claim to the land. So when the actual property owners reclaimed or sold the land, the casitas had to go. And El Flamboyán was no exception. Un día en 2003 llegué al jardín y vi unas grúas. Iban a construir algo, pero no nos habían dicho nada. Llegaron sin avisar y cerraron el Flamboyán. Just like that, construction machines and workers took over the garden. And El Flamboyán was shut down. Descubrimos que habían vendido el terreno y que iban a construir unos edificios. No podíamos hacer nada. Yo pensé: “¡Ay, Dios! ¿Y a dónde vamos a ir ahora?”. After El Flamboyán closed, Leonor focused on her work as a caretaker. She spent four hours a day assisting an older woman in the neighborhood. In the afternoons, she just stayed inside her apartment. No me gustaba estar siempre en la casa, pero me tuve que quedar ahí. Fue horrible, pero ya no tenía mi jardín y no sabía adónde ir. ¡Me sentía atrapada! Leonor thought her days at El Flamboyán were over. But some of her friends weren’t ready to give it up without a fight, or lucha. Juntos habíamos construido El Flamboyán y era algo muy especial para nosotros. Era un lugar donde podíamos estar juntos y tranquilos, donde podíamos relajarnos. Nadie quería perder eso. Entonces, mis amigas decidieron luchar por un nuevo sitio. So, Leonor’s friends petitioned the city to move El Flamboyán to a new location. And…in 2004, they succeeded. The Department of Parks and Recreation leased them a half-acre of land just a few blocks away. One afternoon, after being cooped up for months, Leonor walked over to see it. La gente había llevado todo al nuevo sitio. No sé cómo lo hicieron, pero llevaron la misma casita al nuevo lugar. Cuando lo vi, me sentí mucho mejor. Es lindo tener un lugar como ese. Cuando no estás haciendo nada, pues vas para allá, te sientas a charlar y a respirar aire puro. Leonor had to walk a little further to get to the garden now that it wasn’t right on her block anymore. But the new location had its perks. For one, it was officially theirs. And it was much larger than the small lot they had before. Now they had a big, sprawling lawn. El nuevo sitio era bien grande y limpio. Había mucho más espacio y se respiraba mejor. Yo me sentía bien allí, ¡mejor que en mi casa! Podíamos sembrar más frutas y vegetales, y cocinar mejor porque teníamos un espacio más grande. In the years since moving to its new location, El Flamboyán has had its ups and downs. Leonor’s South Bronx community continues to protect its garden and casita from anything that might cause El Flamboyan to close. But they’ve also begun to embrace their changing community. El jardín todavía tiene la bandera de Puerto Rico y la bandera de Estados Unidos. Pero ahora, también tiene banderas de otros países, como Honduras, México y la República Dominicana. La comunidad ha crecido y ahora también hay gente más joven. Today, the garden has about 30 members. Old and new members regularly come by El Flamboyán to play games, relax, or work on their gardens. During the warmer seasons, Leonor stops by most days to see her friends, play bingo, or tend to her vegetables. She grows eggplants, peppers, tomatoes, and herbs. And every fall, she takes part in the Harvest Day Festival. Es una tradición que empezó hace años. Invitamos a la gente de otros jardines. Nos reunimos y hacemos competencias. Me siento orgullosa de las cosas que hacemos en este jardín porque compartimos juntos como una gran familia. For Leonor, El Flamboyán continues to feel like home. While they don’t host big concerts and parties anymore, they’re still gardening and gathering, and working hard, or bregando, as they say in Puerto Rico. And the island’s community spirit lives on in this casita. Para mí, El Flamboyán es sinónimo de comunidad. Su esencia viene de los lugares tropicales y eso no existe en todos lados, pero aquí sí. Nosotros estamos sembrando, estamos bregando… Y ojalá podamos seguir sembrando y compartiendo para siempre. Leonor Torres lives in the Bronx and she still spends a few days a week at El Flamboyán when the weather is warm. This story was produced by Samia Bouzid. I just want to thank you guys so much for the Duolingo podcast. Not only are they helping me refine my Spanish speaking skills, but the stories just give me such a rich appreciation for the variety of cultures across Central, South America, and even over, you know, in Europe as well from the Spanish speaking community. So, ¡gracias! Robert, gracias a ti for listening! And that’s it for this special season of the Duolingo Spanish podcast. The Duolingo Spanish podcast is produced by Duolingo and Adonde Media. Our story producers this season were Gabriela Saldivia, Maria Martin, Inés Ulanovsky, Lexie Harrington, Jimena Marcos, Samia Bouzid, and Antonio Diaz Oliva. Our managing editors are Natacha Ruck and David Alandete. Our senior editor is Laura Isensee. Our production manager is Román Frontini. The production coordinator is Javiera May. Our assistant producer is Andrés Fechtenholz. Mixing and audio editing was done by Andrés Fechtenholz, Daniel Murcia, and Mauricio Mendoza. Our mastering engineer and sound designer is Antonio Romero. Our sound supervisor is Martin Cruz. I’m your host and executive producer, Martina Castro. ¡Gracias por escuchar!