one night. Take a stroll across the country road to a family home which also serves as a small panaderia. proceed to walk in and be greeted by eight or so faces smiling and staring at you (the gringo). speak somewhat incoherent spanish. Laugh much. Successfully purchase three pieces of pan de dulce
some mornings. listen to the sound of flutes played by the school children outside the window
get sick from foreign foods and elevation
an emerald green hummingbird with a six inch black tail
buy a conatiner of honey for one dollar. eat a lot of it.
women with strong stout legs. skirts. necklaces of gold, covering the whole neck-part of the chest. top hats and feathers. dignity. kind beauty
every morning. as you walk down the stone made mountain road wave and greet the tiny children trekking up the hill to school. observe their sometimes shy, sometimes boisterous, sometimes sly trickster smiles
ask your spanish teacher for her quinoa soup recipe
go to buy a bit of salt. find only enormous bags. again in broken spanish, ask if it is possible to buy a smaller amount. watch as the woman with the twinkle crinkled eyes opens the large bag of salt, gets a napkin out, unfolds it and dumps a handful of salt in. hands you the napkin bundle of salt free of charge
buy the sweetest tasting pineapple, a head of garlic, one bunch of chard, and a bag of the most tender tiny fingerling potatoes, all for under two dollars
dream, and study, and talk to yourself in spanish
most every afternoon. stop by the resturaunt de Rosita for one of her fluffy steamed sweet cornflour sort of snack, wrapped in a banana leaf with one juicy raison on top
on your morning walk-delight in discovering what music blares out from the homes of these rural indiginous peoples- at seven am...reggae, classic ecuadorian, salsa, the beatles
bright colors. salmon orange. turqoise. tile red roofs. long black braids. white pants.
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