(Written Friday, posted whenever I am fortunate enough to find WiFi)
We are two nights in the little ocean village of Santa Marta. It is very safe here and relaxed. Colorful houses and sandy streets and school children dressed in bright colors in preparation for the big carnival upcoming.
And I am kind of the village idiot.
One of the below circumstances would just be a little ridiculous, but given three of these, the village idiot requisites are filled.
1. You might imagine a little coffee shop with WiFi, or even an internet cafe for boys to come and play killing games in the evening. But no, not here. No WiFi. Someone had told us the school might have it, so I opened the gate to the school yard, padded through the crowds of children playing ball and dancing, and found a wifi signal. A boy generously typed the password into my phone and I was set to go. Languorously slow connection and so I spent plenty of time being The Tall Lurking White Girl holding my device and waiting for content to load.
Can you imagine that scene? Standing in a school yard, playful salsa music blaring and children dancing. It was amazing, actually. The children basically ignored me, except for a few interested stares. At one point though, a Senora Teacher approached me and spoke rapidly in Spanish. I gave her a brainless look and said, "mi espanol es muy malo", which is what I spend most of my time saying here. She said a few more things--i was concerned I might be considered a trespasser but she didn't look annoyed--so I tried talking, in my idiotic manner with the few words I knew. "Here", "WiFi", "this" (indicating phone), "good?"
But I was holding my device, with the Google translate app, and so I handed it to her and she typed in Spanish what she was trying to communicate. The following appeared on my screen: "You are on this at this school is the wi fi". Ok, so Google translate is a bit rough, but she got the message of my intent. She then communicated (acknowledgements to Google, again) that she thought I had needed help.
She was a total sweetheart, but, to be honest I was distracted from understanding the Spanish because she had mango strands on her face in multiple places. Dressed well and helpful, but prominently just having consumed mango.
I was one to judge though, because when I returned to my hotel mirror I realized that *I* had multiple sesame seeds stuck to the middle of my chest.
Lunchtime, but its too hot for me to contemplate an entire "set plate" (corriente), of rice (SEE, Mr Chef), a little pool of lentils, plantains, and a piece of shoe meat ("That meat is sturdier than this table", I commented to Elise as the white plastic furniture oscillated to and fro under the rhythm of her sawing). So I asked for just a bowl of the lentils, good protein without being too heavy. Elise ordered the corriente but when I asked for only lentils, not the set plate, Miss Server went, "ah, que." ("Umm, what."). She turned to Elise, the obviously better spanish-speaker of the two of us, what is this strange pale creature asking, JUST lentils? Elise explained, yes yes, just the lentils.
Four minutes later the cook comes out, the women who was actually given the bizarre task of putting only lentils into a bowl: just a bowl of lentils?!, who does that!, indicating with her hand gestures a bowl shape.
Later Elise and I had a belly laugh over this one, "I'm so sorry that everyone assumes you are responsible for this bizarre idiotic creature!" I say, as if she were my keeper, as if i were a little toddler unable to speak, and her with the Spanish.
3. Using my elementary bicycle mechanic skills, I took the pedals off last night because since we've been riding on sandy roads, an unfortunate grinding noise has been emanating from the main crank region. I cleaned the sand off the main rod with an extra sock, reinserted it all, and re-attached the pedals. I did this task after riding in the heat and before eating, so needless to say I was low on brain.
So today, I mounted my bicycle and reached my feet for the pedals like I have done a thoughtless billion times before. And I started laughing like a lunatic, because something was very wrong. That sort of laughter, like a child laughing when you change a basic thing in her world (like wearing something upside down), where something is so bizarrely wrong it is only hilarious. In my low-brain state I'd reattached my pedals so that they were not in fact 180 opposite each other; they were only 90 degrees opposite.
So to pedal, it was like swinging on a swing set: a giant push with both feet simultaneously to bring both pedals around through where there was no available force. Both feet pushing over at the same time instead of in rhythmic succession. It was totally ludicrous. I rode in circles on the paved road for a little while like this, enjoying the hilarity of it, doubled up in laughter like a deranged person, not even caring who saw the village idiot now.
(Epilogue: I did get my school yard wifi, picked the sesame seeds off my chest, happily ate my lentils, and pulled over and fixed my pedals)
No comments:
Post a Comment