Wouldn’t you think that if you’d spent a couple months in a place, you’d know your way around? This is a very small town: a central square surrounded by about seven or eight main streets in each of the cardinal directions. Plus, there subtle landmarks, like one volcano to the south and two to the west. Easy, right? Then how is it that, when I was aiming toward the northernmost corner, I ended up beyond the south-central edge of town? The scariest part is I was sure I recognized where I was. Only after I got unlost did it hit me: Oh, wait. The place I thought this was—with the line of trees down the middle of the street—that’s in Nepal!
It has been a full day for one without a plan. The day is far from over (it’s about 4:30) but I’ve returned to my nest as dark approaches.
I used to think it was funny that my Spanish was so bad. Now I’m embarrassed, because it hasn’t improved over all these years, despite chunks of time in the southlands, and classes. I think the only way to learn at my advanced age is to live in a Spanish-speaking place for longer than I have. Just this minute, two people who work here came into my apartment and, for the tenth time today, asked me things I couldn’t understand. Lack of comprehension is not an option, though, so either I understand finally, or they catch a word of English, or I just say yes to whatever they’re asking. I found out a little while ago that I’d cheerfully said yes when someone asked me if I wanted to keep the pineapple in the icebox (it’s hers), or should she take it with her. See why I’m embarrassed?
This morning I hitched a ride to the town center with Maria. On the way, an emergency vehicle bounced past, siren wailing and lights flashing. Just as it got in front of us—plonk—off fell the red-and-blue light bar from the car’s roof and smashed onto the cobblestone. The car’s four doors opened. Four men scrambled out, began picking up the pieces and hurled them into the place where a patient might soon be. It was like something from Reno 911. As they sped off, one dim red bulb remained at a jaunty angle atop the car. Everyone, except possibly the waiting patient, thought the event was extremely amusing.
I had to go to the bank. Because ATM card numbers are being ripped off a lot lately, I went to a safer place, where I waited in line for an hour to talk to a banker, who got an authorization from my bank for a withdrawal. Then I waited in a different line for a different hour to get my cash. Here’s my advice for 2012: Don’t go to the bank on the last Friday of the last month of the year. While I was waiting, I had a chance to look in my pocket dictionary for words I’d need. With dictionaries you never know if you have the right ones. I chose quitar dinero for withdraw money, but with my luck I was asking them to give me their money. I’ll never know, but I didn’t get arrested.
Chocolate here rivals the chocolate in Mexico. Mayans like chocolate. As you well know, the ancient Mayan goddess Ixcacao was the goddess of chocolate, fertility and abundance. I just ate an entire 30 grams of dark chocolate mint bar.
Four hours later…
I got sidetracked. Now it’s nine and I have to get up at six to go get my hair cut and colored. It’s a place that does mostly Guatemalan hair, so I might end up with silken, frizzless black pelo. Right after that we catch the van to Panajachél at Lago de Atitlí¡n (about three hours from here) where there’s a special New Year’s event that Maria likes. It ain’t Sacramento, but what are you gonna do. We’re staying two nights. I don’t know if I’m taking my computer.
Because it’s so late, I don’t have time to finish writing. I had lunch at a beautiful garden place with Maria, Doí±a Justa’s daughter Cindy and Doí±a Rosa. The garden pix you’ll see below are from there. Afterwards, I went home to dump my cash, and then walked for miles around town getting lost, as I’ve told you. That’s what the other pictures show. The final one is sunset from my porch. Click on the “captions” link if you want to. Mom: get someone to help you page through the photos. I think there are thirteen.
I’ve made a decision: I’ll keep writing only if I keep getting nice responses from you. No lurkers. It’s so wonderful to hear from you while I’m far away. It’s also wonderful when I’m close, but we’ll talk about that later.
Eating those 30 grams was imperative, and you’re a brave soul for doing so-lesser women would have crumbled. I expect you to bring plenty of chocolate back for me-no no no, only because I like chocolate. Also, bring that wee dog in the eleventh picture, please.
Amazing, how much you travel-that you got an entire country confused with another! Maybe that’s why speaking Spanish has not come easy/any easier on this trip? You have so many dang languages to keep straight, rattling around in that brain of yours!
I wrote my comment, and then read Eleni’s comment after having done so, and smiled at the fact that we’d touched on some of the same things. Great sisters think alike, eh what!
“Oh, wait. The place I thought this was—with the line of trees down the middle of the street—that’s in Nepal!” — There are many worse things to be in this world than over-traveled! I think that deserves a pat on the back.
I’m glad you found a bank, just like your pseudo-Chilean daughter did. I think the verb of choice for withdrawing money is “sacar dinero,” although of course I didn’t know that until after I’d needed it.
My ol’ pal Ixcacao! Please bring me back some chocolate, too. I prefer milk chocolate, but will eat dark if you darn well force me.
What are the turquoise things in the second picture? Are those flowers? They couldn’t be; they’re too bizarre. If they are, I want a closer picture.
Ooooh, what a wonderful thing to wake up to two fun and chatty comments. Thank you soooooo much. Gotta get ready to have my hair done. It’s too early to be awake. Hasta mas tarde.