I have just realized that it is April. Before i left California my plan was to be back in home mid May. That wont be happening. I cant understand how time has swept by me so fastly. I look back at the memories i have made here in south america and time i have spent and i honestly cant believe its been 6 months. They have been the fastest, most invigorating, and educational 6 months of my life. Im glad i have had this realization so i can truly savor and experience the last 2 months of my trip. Its sweet knowing that i wont have to return to the supermarts, retail stores, blinded american perceptions and material saturated way of life for 2 more months. But its also sweet knowing that i have my family friends and safe food and warm shelter to return to.
I leave Pisco Sin Fronteras tomorrow after just over a month of being here. I wish i could stay another 3 months but there is a stronger force calling me to bus to Colombia. Working here in the community of Pisco and with the PSF organization has been the best thing i have done on my trip. From the people i met, the skills i learned and the community i worked with.
The past few days i have made the transformation from someone that has never used a power too to, a fearless contractor. Well thats actually an extreme exaggeration but i have learned and used; skill saws, crobars, jack hammers and other powerful creations of man that should be used with extreme caution. Aside from using tools i have also learned techniques such as rendering, modular constructing (walls we use to build houses.),and other wooden and cement marvels. I find that when working in construction my thought process completely changes and i become much more crafty and better at problem solving.
I fell like i could stay here for at least another 4 months but know that i would regret not bussing to Columbia(which is now my current plan.), so now the question for the present is how much longer can i stay? The question for the future is when will i be back? I ask this because I see how much good we are doing here and i know i will be back at some point in my life.
I dont have time to write an new blog, so i have posted the last email I wrote to my family.
Hey fam! this is the first moment i have had to sit down and write a detailed email. I arrived at PSF (Pisco Sin Fronteres) (http://www.piscosinfronteras.org/)
on Thursday and although i have only had one day (now over a week of work, but this is an old email) of work so far I have not had a free moment. The reason im free right now is because yesterday i was really sick and there was no way i could work today. Ill start at the begging.
Last Wednesday when i was in Lima i met two girls at my hostel who were also wanting to come down to work in this volunteer program. One of them i was a bit keen on so i really sold the program and suggested that we all come on the same day. They loved the idea and the next day we set off together. We arrived at PSF about 6pm on Thursday right as dinner was about to start (such good timing). Luckily for me they have a vegetarian option every night. The first night was Enchiladas and i have a feeling they would have been good except for the fact that i ruined my dinner by mistaking salt for parmesan cheese and drenched my entire meal in salt. The water here is horrible so when washing our plates we have to wash them in water that has been boiled for at least 10 minutes. It seems to me their system of washing is pretty good. They have four big buckets of boiled water. The first bucket you wash off the food residue you still have on your plate. In between the first and second you scrub your plate with a heavy dish detergent then wash the detergent off in the second bucket. The third bucket is just water to make sure everything is off, and the fourth is diluted bleach water that you dip your plate in to kill whatever bacteria is left. (Although i dont really like the idea of bleach being over everything i eat off of, its better than the alternative, bacteria.)
We then got a tour of the place, and were told we could pick our room. It was either between a room with 18 people, 8 people or a room that could fit 6 but only had one at the moment. The girls choose the room with 18, and i choose the one with 1 person (now its full and has 6, one of which is a French guy that sleeps naked every night and has become the joke of the room). Even though my room faces the street and is loud with the sound of fighting wild dogs, moto taxi’s and loud music it is still more quite than the other rooms because there are less people. The room is filthy and is always covered with a layer of dirt that blows in throughout the day from the dirt road that is just outside the window. The beds are literally rock hard because the mattress is made from compacted straw. Although its hard to sleep (no pun intended) its very good for my back and i have to remind myself that most of the people in the town i live in would love to have this straw mattress. My roommate is a great guy from Ireland and he is defiantly someone who i look forward to being friends with. In fact almost everyone that i have met is very genuine and could turn out to be a good friend.
Friday-my first day. I woke up around 7 and headed to breakfast. After breakfast we signed up for which job we wanted to do. I Tried not to wast any time and signed up for a job building bathroom for a guy named Cesar and his family. (there are about 10 jobs a day 8 or 9 of them being construction.) After everyone had signed up my group and a few other groups (about 10 people) piled a ton of shovels, buckets, drills and other construction tools in the back of a rickety old truck. We then proceeded by piling ourselves in the bed of the truck. It was so tight you couldn’t move. We dropped one group off at their job which created some space, then went to our site. Unfortunately Cesar wasn’t there so we couldnt work. But because there was a Columbian in my group and because MY Spanish was good enough, for the next two hours we drove around picking up parts for an engine and fixing parts on the truck. I acted as the translator between the Scottish guy and the Columbian and the Columbian talked to the workers. We were very successful with this chain translation strategy and got everything we needed to do done.
Walking around the city and driving around in the back the truck it was very obvious that Pisco is the third world. (I must say the organization im with is the best volunteer organization i have seen. Unlike many organizations no body here is getting fat off the money and philanthropy of the volunteers and benefactors. All of the money, recourses, and labor go directly to helping the people and community.) Other than the main streets most of the streets are dirt. If there not dirt then they are broken cement with patches of rough pavement. I dont know what the homes looked like before the earth quake but now they resemble slums or shanty towns and are made of trash, spare wood, tarps and whatever other materials they managed to salvage. A lot of the homes dont have plumbing or running water. Everything from food to taxi rides are very cheap and although the people are almost always smiling at you there is an inescapable air of desperation that you cant help but inhale with each breath.
Friday night- first night out. We had a great 3 coarse meal (one of the guys wanted to do something special) Knowing that it was a three coarse meal and there would be more dishes than usual. I signed up for dish duty wanting to pay my dues early. Here they call dish duty dishco which is supposed to be a mixture of disco and dishes because they have music going the whole time. About 15 minutes in i dont really know what happened but the kitchen turned into a complete party and people were going nuts. it went from hand clapping and head nodding to dance battles and stip tease in the middle of the kitchen. Granted everyone had a little wine but i have never ever, ever, seen anything like this madness in my life. It was ridiculously fun and after about an hour and a half of the insanity everyone wanted to go out and dance more. The bars and clubs here are not great but when you show up with 50 people you end up taking the place over and having a great time. We got back to the house around 4:30 and were all up the next day by 7. Saturday is a half day of work here and is the only day open to teaching. Loving teaching English that was the job i signed up for. I did a little teaching because i was working with little kids and it was alot more of game playing and attempting to keep them from running into traffic. After teaching, a large group of us decided to go for a night trip to an oasis about an hour away.
Saturday evening, the oasis. We arrived around 7 checked in to a hostel, then went for dinner. I was already starting to have slight stomach problems but thought they would pass. After dinner we walked around a bit then went to a dance club. We danced till about 4 in the morning. Almost everyone in the group had been here before and wanted to go climb a sand dune right then and there at 4 in the morning. so…. we started climbing. I was freezing and it was extremely hard to climb this thing. It was a very steep sand dune and about 300 feet tall. Although everyone was taking alot of breaks i felt like i was in better shape, a non smoker, had not taken any drugs and should have been taking less breaks. But for some reason i was taking more breaks than everyone. (now looking back i was getting tired quicker because i was SICK!) Our goal was to make it to the top by sunrise. At one point in the treck i laid on my back and was so cold i covered myself partly with sand. I woke up 45 minutes later by myself in the middle of the sand dune. Luckily the moon was so bright i could vaigly see the shadows of my friends at the top of the dune. I defiantly should have turned around and gone home to bed but knew that i did not want to be the only one that did not make it to the top, so i trudged on. 45 minutes later i was at the top and the sun was just coming up. Everyone was hysterical asking where i had gone, and when i told them that i had fallen asleep they laughed even harder. We had a great time on the top of that dune and i dont regret climbing it for a second. We stayed up there for about 2 hours and then we got to do the real fun part which was moon jumping/running down the dune. This part was better than any bounce house and actually felt like you were flying or bouncing down the hill of sand. By the time we reached the bottom i felt like i was going to explode and needed a bathroom immediately. …(i wont go any further, but i can tell you that was the first of my sickness,) I got back to my hostel around 8 in the morning completely covered in sand, my jean pockets filled with sand, ears and hair filled with sand, wherever you can imagine sand it was there. Not having hot water in the hostel and being to tired i went directly to bed in the sand covered clothes i had just hiked in. I woke up around 11 felling worse than i have felt since i have been in south america and with the worst stomach sickness i have ever had in my life. (although i knew this was going to happen because i had been warned by people here saying that everyone gets sick at least once, in fact getting sick here is so common on the board of jobs they have a category of sick people and everyday someone is on it.)
Today… There was no way i was going to work and I have been in bed most the day. But I actually feel a lot better than yesterday. I have not eaten anything for a day and a half and look intensely skinny and weak. Skinny because i have not eaten and weak because i have have only worked out properly 3 times in the last month. You may have interpreted this as a cry for sympathy but that is the last thing i want. Im getting exactly what i signed up for, exactly what i was looking for. Im living in the third world of south america and truly experiencing it. Im taking a break from all that is comfortable to me, from everything i have been raised with and everything i have been sheltered from. And although my conditions are rough in comparison to the life i have lived, i am still living kush or easily in comparison to the people that surround me.
I write this from my friends apartment in Buenos Aires. I left the Hostel in Mar Del Plata 3 days ago. In reflection it was a great month filled with partying, Spanish speaking and cultural learning (and by cultural learning of course I mean, girls, the beach and speaking Spanish around a table of beer.) Although at times a bit stressful the job was good and they treated fairly coming through with everything they promised. Through the experience I doubled my Spanish speaking ability and met some world class people. I also exercised like a mad man playing basketball, running on the beach, bike riding, and lifting weights with my personal trainer MARTIN.
When I first arrived in Mar Del Plata I knew that I wanted to join a gym to keep in shape. My third day I found a gym that was literally built on the beach, meaning that I could swim in the ocean then walk 30 feet to the gym to take a shower. Also the gym came with a personal trainer “MARTIN”. The capitalization of his name signifies his enormous size and ego. I must admit he knew his stuff and after every work out session I was thoroughly sore. I also was thoroughly shocked by how narcissistic a man could be. Im not exaggerating or embellishing the story when I tell you that at LEAST 7 times during his work out session after pumping a set he would take off his shirt and flex in the mirror for himself (and the entire gym). He would then (shirtless) walk up to the mirror and inspect his face and make sure every last hair was in its place. Once fully manicured and without a shirt he would exit the gym (which is right alongside the beach) and pace back and forth flexing his pumping muscles. After watching this routine for a month (along with his grooming and leg shaving that he did in the girls bathroom) I came to the conclusion that despite his two children and girlfriend he was defiantly struggling with his sexuality. I also came to the conclusion that if one day MARTIN woke up in my body he honestly might commit suicide. And as funny as that sounds I honestly believe it to be true because from what I gathered his image was all he had.
I left Mar Del Plata at 9am and took a 6 hour bus ride back to Buenos Aires. Waiting for me was my friend Maxi (the guy who gave me the cologne from the previous entry.) We then took a bus to his Provence about 45 minutes outside of BA capital. His neighborhood was a good example of the small middleclass in Argentina. More rundown than BA capital and the people certainly knew more struggle. Maxi’s apartment was very warm and comfortable and he made sure that I felt at home. When I arrived to my surprise he had a beautiful sister. Not wanting to jeopardize my friendship or boarding I decided it would best not to flirt with his sister even though she was 25 and glowing. The first night at his house his sister made homemade pizza and we all shared a few local beers. After dinner we prepped up and then set off back to the city to have a night out on the town. Maxi knew the guys out that door so we all got In free. I offered to buy the first round but he rejected the offer just as he had rejected my offer to buy the pizza ingredients, beer and bus passes. Before he could reject me again I bought the second round. We danced (I flirted with girls) while he watched having a recent girlfriend in a different city. We stayed at the bar till about 5:30am then our group headed to Mcdolnalds for a post bar snack. There were about 6 of us at Mcadonalds and when the group found out that I was a rapper they insisted that I freestyle for them. So like a true emcee I cleared my throat and lyrically wooed them. I must have been rapping loudly because when I finish other tables were staring in confusion and amazement at me. After we rapped up at McDonalds (no pun intended) We rode the bus back to his house. Staying awake was hard (until I fell into conversation with a beautiful Argentine girl). We got back to the house around 7:30, we woke up at 4:00. After 9 hours of sleep I was ready to say goodbye and move on to my next friends house. Ten minutes later I found out that my friend was going to a football game and wouldn’t be home till much later. Luckily for me there was no shortage of hospitality at Maxi’s house he invited me to stay as long as I wanted but told me that he had to go to band practice for a few hours. (He plays in the third best Beatles cover band in Latin America.) While he was gone I asked his sister if I could buy and make dinner for them. She was thoroughly excited and wanted to see what us Yankee’s eat. I prepared (Shelley’s homemade marinara sauce.) This sauce consists of many fresh tomatoes, garlic, onion, herbs, fresh basil, and a few other secret ingredients. We also bought 1 and a half kilos of Helado for desert. At about 12 I announced that I should leave and Maxi being that class act that he is insisted that he accompany me the hour and a half journey to my other friends house. The whole time we were traveling I kept thinking how I needed to be more like maxi, so generous and genuine with his time and resources.
When I got to Emanuels apartment I was greeted by his visiting mother. She offered me something to drink and some homemade empanadas. Unfortunately I was extremely full from my previous meal . Then she called her son Emanuel and he invited me to the party. At the time parting was the last thing I wanted to do, but I wanted to come through for my friend, plus when he told me it was a house party (something that is very rare here) I knew I had to suck up my tiredness. I made a good decision to say the least. The party was filled with gorgeous women, a dance floor and open bar.
Im left amazed yet again by the generosity of my friends here. On my second day Emanuel invited me to say 4 more night at his place so I wouldn’t have to go to a hostel. He also gave me a key so I could come and go as I pleased. After this offer I offered to pay him something for my time there and for his food that I was eating. He would not except a dime. So after 5 free nights there, getting waited on by his mom for 3 of the days, and free breakfast I leave even more impressed by Argentine hospitality.
Going on my third week working in the hostel if there was one thing that i have noticed about the friends i have made and the foreign travelers of the world it is the unbelievable generosity they poses. Every day i am here I witness a new act of generosity or kindness. The attitude here is, whats mine is yours. I can’t remember a day that someone did not offer to share their meal with me or share a beer that they had purchased. Their generosity does not stem from them having a lot to give because most of the people i encounter are a lot like myself (travelling on a shoestring) yet no matter what they have they always offer to share it with me. Experiencing such generosity has in turn made me a more generous person. I try to immolate the kindness that i have experienced. A specific story comes to mind.
About a week ago a 25-year-old traveller from Sweden named Harris came to stay at the hostel for 2 nights. I cant say that there was any deep connection with the guy but i could tell he was genuine and someone who i could defiantly be friends with. On his second and last day at the hostel we started talking about our lives back home and our passions. When he found out that i was an emcee he was very excited and told me that he was a fan of hip hop and that he was a videographer/director. After watching videos of each others work, I jokingly asked if he wanted to buy a cd. He didnt hesitate and said he would love to.
Because of his enthusiasm, and supportive vibe i thought I would either give the guy a good deal or just give him the CD for free. When I brought it to him he handed me a $100 peso bill. I then told him that i didnt have change and that all i needed was 10 or 20 pesos. His hand didnt flinch and he then told me that i seemed like a great guy and he really wanted to support me and my music so I could just keep the money as a tip. I was blown away by his gesture and didnt know how exactly to respond. Even when in the states i have never received a tip this big for a single cd. He paid 2.5 times as much as i would have sold the cd for online, in stores or hand to hand. And although he was not struggling it was clear that he was not rolling in money either. He was travelling on a budget yet somehow found money not only to buy a cd but to be extremely generous and make lasting impression.
In terms of how things were at the Hostel this weekend, they were worst than last weekend. (Before I start I would like to reiterate that my boss is a good person and does want the best for people but sometimes makes poor decisions and needs guidance.) We had to turn away confirmed customers and others that had reservations and confirmations had to sleep on the floor. To say the least I was upset especially because I told the boss yet again that it was going to happen and she didn’t listen to me. (Earlier in the day two guys wanted to add on an extra night, I told her that we didn’t have room because I suspected others would be coming. She didn’t listen and told them they could have the extra mattresses and sleep up stairs.) Later that day when I was not there two girls from Australia showed up with reservations and confirmation tickets. We had no beds, and no couches. The girls came 6 hours to see a concert and stay at our hostel so when my boss told them we had no space, the entire day they went to find another place but couldn’t resulting in missing the concert. They came back saying that at the least they needed a roof.
The fact that my boss didn’t listen to me was secondary to the fact that she would not take accountability or responsibility for her mistakes (the following day she did. Sort of.) When I approached her not to express my frustration but to find a solution not only was she not receptive and she got upset with me. (Its important to note that when I approached her I never once said “you” or placed direct blame on her, I used “we” and said we need to fix “our” mistakes. She responded by saying “Christian don’t get me upset there is nothing I can do, Its not my fault.”
I responded by saying “It is “our” fault because these girls had reservations, and received three confirmation emails. Showed up exactly when they said they were going to and now don’t have a bed. If your getting upset, and im upset let us take a second and imagine how they must feel. We need to try and figure out a solution. ” I said in defense of the innocent clients. Then the boss went and pulled two other clients who she had become close with into the debate. They all three then told me I didn’t need to worry about it and that it would be ok. I rebuttaled by saying that anytime someone is treated unfairly its not ok and that we did need to worry about it at least until we had an answer. Then the boss proved my exact point in attempt to disarm my rebuttal. “ These girls just showed up (with reservations and confirmation) and I told them that we had no space and they told me they don’t care and that they needed a place to stay (obviously) because the city was full. And I told them that they could stay at Glorias house (the cleaning lady). But they didn’t want to, so they said they would stay on the floor.” She said in defense
“I think the fact that Gloria offered her house is a beautiful and generous thing but as two girls traveling South America for the first time there is no way you could expect them to do that. The fact that there is no where else in the city to put them makes us even more responsible and makes it so much more important that we do something.” I said in a calm yet strong voice.
We ran a few more circles around each other then she walked off and went to bed, with out an answer and with two clients without a place to sleep. I went upstairs to the defenseless girls and explained to them that I would do everything I could to help them and that I was extremely sorry I couldn’t do more. They were surprisingly understanding and sweet for girls that had just been burned so badly. I then went outside to where the two guys who were occupying the extra mattresses were.
“Listen boys I know your going out tonight and wont return until 6 or 7 can these girls take your bed until you get back?” I proposed.
They agreed and the girls were very grateful now at least having a mattress in the common area opposed to sleeping in a dinner table arm chair.
Through this experience I have come to the conclusion that I will not quit working here but I will also continuing to stand for fairness even if it means upsetting my boss . I will not stand by and watch people get taken advantage of and although I once thought that if this did happen again I would quit I now have realized that it is better to get fired than quite, because if I get fired at least in the process I can make some progress and help a few people .
As i type this message i have 3 Columbian girls editing my hostel responses while their other friends pass me a liter of beer to swig while i ¨work´. Almost one week ago i left Buenos Aires and moved to Mar Del Plata which.. (i now resume writing a day later because last night i got distracted.. something that happens often.) … Moved to Mar Del Plata which is a smaller city on the beach about 6 hours from BA. It is a popular summer destination spot for Argentines and is the equivalent to San Diego or LA for Californians (except the city part is much smaller.). (now i have to stop writing again because its time to eat!!) So I’m now back (a day later) and its almost time to eat again haha. I acquired this job by sending an email to the hostel with my fine tuned resume, apparently the other 20 hostels i sent it to didn’t think it was so sharp because Hostel Namaste was the only one that responded. Lucky for me their response was ´´your hired´´. After being thoroughly exploited in my last job I was careful to make the terms of my work clear and got it all in writing (although i don’t think the writing would do me any good because I’m still working under the table). Thus far working at this hostel has been much better than my last job. Although as i write this our hostel is experiencing the results of disorganization bad booking. The owner of the hotel has managed to over book by about 5 beds and has already received deposits from each of the guest. One would think it would be easy to contact another hostel to move them to in a worst case scenario but being that this is one of the busiest weekends…. (i return yet again) I’m going to have to come back to this situation or ¨kelumbo´¨as you would say in Spanish because the kelumbo i have just returned from is more of an epic tale….
It is 7 30am and i have just returned to the hostel. I look as if i have just taken a shower with all my clothes on (my best clothes that i wear to go out in), I’m completely sober from an incredibly long walk, my feet sink in water when I walk, and i feel as if im enwombed in a haze of delirious fog. I walk into the hostel to find out that i am without a bed, sofa, or couch to sleep on (thus resulting in my decision to not sleep and finish this blog). As i entered the hostel with my 4 other weathered companions i knew that i had given up my bed to a customer but thought that i would have couch space in the common area. Wrong. As i walked up the stairs to what i thought would be an unoccupied couch i stood in awe staring at the common area not only mangled with the entire staff but customers as well. ……..(3days later) One word to describe how i felt, incredulous. Customers that had paid for a bed, locker and private bathroom now were sleeping on the bare hardwood floor of the hostel common area. there was nothing i could do at the time but i knew that i would be having a serious conversation with boss very soon. Later that day I went for a walk and came to the conclusion I would propose that everyone who slept upstairs should get a free night or a refund (obviously fair). I also concluded that if my boss didnt take action and make things right I would have no choice but to quit and leave. My argument would be “if we don’t refund them we will lose more business in the long run and above all its morally wrong and unfair.” Sense i have been here i have realized that i have a strong righteous indignation toward injustice and inequality and that when i observe it even if not in my best interest i have to do something. Later that day that’s exactly what i did. Approaching the conversation i thought there was a very good chance that it would be my last day. After a rather short conversation everything was settled and i had said everything that i needed to. These were the results; She would give a free night to everyone who had a reservation, the other 4 i learned were walk in’s that had no other place to stay and knew going into the night that they would be on the floor and were only charged half price. Nevertheless this horrible overbooking situation was caused by immense disorganization. Earlier in the week (my 3rd day on the job) I told my boss that she had made a mistake in the booking and that we were over booked. She brushed me off and said it would be ok. Three days later everything was not ok and she was turning to me to calm upset customers and give her mental support. The worst part of it all was that later that night when we were still overbooked a group of 5 gorgeous Argentine girls(one of which was brewing with chemistry) came with a paid reservation and I had to tell them that even though they had booked a month in advance they could not stay at the hostel because there were absolutely no beds. Not only did i hate being the one to tell them they couldn’t stay i hated how there was nothing i could do to help them. After an hour on the phone I was able to find them a place in a different hotel but beyond that there was nothing i could do. SOooo this week the booking authority has almost turned 180. My boss now passes the phone to me when someone call regarding availability and ask my permission before booking people (many of times of which i have said no). Although I now have “most” of the booking power there is still two websites that book for us. I have told her to update the websites informing them that we are full for this weekend but i don’t think its been done so right now i crossing my fingers very tightly hoping we dont have the same situation as last week. Although the stress grips of floral artistry were strong at times with the occasional difficult bride, lost on the way to a wedding, or broken vase, it doesn’t compare to the intense stress of this weekend. Just when i was at my highest point of anxiety (which never happens to me, i don’t get stressed ever!!) I realized that the stress wouldn’t help anything and that there was nothing i could do except try and fix the problem and not worry about it. I also remembered that i would be in Peru with my dad in less than two months having a good time. With all of this said the job is great and much better than the last. And it is important to note that my boss is actually very sweet, and has good intentions but is just very disorganized. A normal day: I wake up at 10 work for 4 hours, go to the beach, go to the gym, play basketball, eat, go back to work from 8 to 12, eat, play drinking games with hostel members, sometimes go out dancing, return at 8am, sleep for two hours and do it again. Which brings me back to the start of this post (the part where I’m wet, weathered and in a haze of delirious fog.)
The night started like most nights in the hostel. I had a parilla dinner with some people from the hostel grilling soy burgers and vegetables. After dinner the drinking games started. Not speaking great Spanish in a game that requires you to drink when you make a mistake results in a lot of drinking. So you can imagine that i was raising my glass very often. We continued to play a number of games for the next 3 hours. Around 3:45 we packed up and headed out to cut the rug. On the way to the boliche there was a slight breeze but not a cloud in the sky. By the time we reached the club and exited the taxi it was pouring rain. The club we had chosen was very popular and had a line around the corner of people waiting in the rain. One of my friends Gustavo asked me if i wanted to go somewhere else and i agreed already feeling like a wet towel. As we started to look for the rest of our group I spotted one of the girls we had came with Rousa (pronounced Rosia) ( A mysterious looking beauty with black hair, black eyes, and a body that looked like a marble sculpture.) she was standing in front of the VIP section talking to the security. She then waved me down telling me to follow her. I grabbed the rest of the group and followed Rouse past the entire line, Past all security and past all entrance fees. We had just made it into the club for free and had not waited more than 5 minutes in line, this was going to be a good night. And it was a good night I danced with Rouse most of the night as she “cultured” me in reggaton and cumbia dancing. Everything was going great until,,,, the music stopped and a voice came over the speaker saying that the club was closed and everyone needed to leave. “Was it 6 already?” i thought to myself. As we left the club it was raining harder than when we entered and the streets were even more crowded with all the people who had just been in the variety of bars and clubs that lined the street. It was obvious that getting a taxi would be impossible so we started walking in the direction of the bus stop. After a few blocks the girls dresses were completely damp, there makeup smeared like war paint and they were walking barefoot heels in one hand. We continued to walk and soon we were walking on the cliff coastline. The ocean was directly beside us about 50 feet down the raised hwy we were walking on. I was walking next to Rouse we each had one arm wrapped around each other partially trying to keep our freezing wet bodies warm and partially trying to fuel the chemistry. The scene was beautiful and something I’ll never forget. The sun was ever so slightly peeking through the dark grey clouds, and the rain was shooting down from the heavens painting the air around us with movement and life. The wind was blowing the heavy rain toward, in , and over the ocean and made the rain look like lost souls returning home. I felt so raw, so whole, so alive as I walked holding this beautiful woman under one arm, and holding the natural mystic of the scenery in the other. Although i was completely drenched, and far from home i felt a warmth for life and i felt at home with my surrounding. We kept walking and soon reached the buss station. The canopy of the stop was packed like sardines with other just like us. After 15 minutes of waiting the lights of a bus came our way. As it approached it was not slowing down, it was actually speeding up. When it passed i could see that it was completely full and at that moment i knew we were not going to be able to get a bus. Unsure what do we continued walking. 10 minutes later we found ourselves at a McDonalds with at least 200 others fresh from the bars and rain. I went to bathroom and wrung out my shirt watching the water pour from it as i twisted it harder. When i returned to my grim friends i couldnt help but laugh at the situation we were in. It was so unusual and so uncomfortable that there was nothing you could do but laugh and as i started to laugh everyone in my group began to see the irony and soon we were all laughing at the very unexpected situation we were in. (side note, I have never seen and will never see again so many fit girls in a mcdonalds at one time, that alone was a good reason to laugh)
“Do you have the number of the hostel” Rouse asked me
lucky I had brought one thinking that if i met a girl i would give her the card in place for the personal cell phone I sold last week.
“Ahh well some of us do have to work” i joked as i passed her the card. The joke must not have translated to funny because no one laughed.
After 15 minutes of rapid spanish speaking Rouse announced that she had gotten a hold of two taxies and that we would be picked up shortly.
“this girl is resourceful too?” i thought, impressed by what she had just accomplished.
As our group rode home in the warm dry taxi i looked out the window watching the white foamy waves devour the falling rain and as I watched i couldn’t help but wish i was walking with the rain and wind once again embracing Rouse watching the sun rise on a dark sky and wild sea.
