Nearing the Finish Line

There is nothing like a blank monitor screen and a flashing cursor to scare one into sobriety. One of the beauties of this tiny town is that we're able to get everywhere on foot. If there is any place on earth that punishes drunk walking, it most certainly is not Suchitoto. That is not to imply that the local citizens stagger around in a stupor. Far from it. But living here has reminded me of how obsessed we North Americans are about rules. Sure, there may be heightened risks in driving a vehicle on tires smoother than a pane of glass, but overall, common sense seems to prevail over blind obedience to an imposed code of behavior. It's refreshing to see drivers work things out creatively on the narrow streets, even if it means bending the 'rules' a little bit. I haven't witnessed an accident yet. Rarely do you hear a horn blare, and if you do, it's probably someone honking hello to a passing friend. And there is definitely not a police cruiser in every rear view mirror.

The folks at Es Artes hosted a lovely candlelit gathering on the cobbled courtyard of the offices. A very simple affair - a large cooler full of beer and a pot of pupusas in the kitchen. The nearly full moon augmented the flickering table-top lighting; seeing the enclosed outdoor space in this way, lit by something softer than the glaring mid-day sun, rekindled my dream of seeing the courtyard transformed into a small rehearsal/performance area. Maybe some day...

I probably had more beers than pupusas, but I was advised to drink lots of fluids here because of the heat. There are no rules here at the hotel prohibiting midnight swimming but I think I'll post this and weave my way across the flagstone walkway to my room.

While we still have to assemble the modular units and install the nosing, our work at Escuela Taller is essentially over. The construction of the stage is finished, the plywood has been stained and sealed. Even the four masking flats were glued, screwed and nailed together today. The portable ticket/information booth only needs some fabric stapled to the front and rear walls to be complete - fabric that was shipped from Stratford, along with all the lights, dimmers, and other equipment and tools that sit in the Customs' sealed container, waiting uselessly in port for the local politicians and bureaucrats to allow its entry into the country.

Tomorrow is the last day at the school for the guys and gal who have helped us accomplish our goals. I only hope that we have had as positive an effect on their lives as they have had on ours.