Wheels and Half Circles

Very little to report on the work front today. Oh, we worked alright, but it was a bit of an effort. Thirty-five degrees sweetened with eighty-five percent humidity. The maypole got built, and the pocket in the riser to receive it. Lots of hand-sanding of the woodfiller. And Frank managed to get some stain on a few of the units. The entire litre and a half of water that I brought to the school at nine was out of the bottle and inside me by noon.

I have already mentioned some of the charms of Suchitoto. The narrow cobbled streets.The horses parked curbside. Cows plugging the main drag. The incredible vistas of the mountains and the lake. The hardware store where you can't browse but have to instead ask for what you want. Citizens poor in material things but rich in spirit.

There are also quite a few oddities that are not necessarily charming, but certainly novel and interesting:

Small variety stores selling soft drinks and snacks don't seem to open in the literal sense, at least not on Sundays. Iron gates remain shut during business hours. Customers approach the doorway, speak through the metalwork, pass their money through the filigree and then the owner passes out a Pepsi through the gate. Kind of like prison meals, only in reverse.

The wheel and rubber tire obviously rolled into town many years ago. All the cars, bicycles and 125 cc motorcycles, and the small pickups that are so prevalent, have something more or less round keeping the metal and oily bits from dragging on the pavement. Si. But handcarts and dollies? No. All over town, up and down the steepest hills, you'll see women walking along with huge baskets balanced on their heads (here we go again with that singular/plural nonsense). Young guys bearing ridiculously awkward and heavy loads on their stooped back and shoulders - huge tables or sacks of grain or giant jugs of water. The fellow in the procession last week carrying a car battery in his arms. The Coca Cola and beer delivery trucks have two wheeled dollies strapped above the back bumper, but they're from the city. Locally, I don't know if it's a matter of pride or poverty or perhaps even choice. The streets are teeth-rattling rough and the sidewalks are interrupted with minor cliffs every so often, so maybe a wagon would be a waste of time anyway.

Our beautiful hotel is definitely upscale and tourist-oriented. As warm as the climate here is, once in a while I feel like having a hot shower. The showerhead in my modern bathroom resembles a large hand-held hair dryer. There are even electric wires that snake down the wall and disappear into the device. CSA where are you? The small internal element can only heat a small amount of water as it streams past, so I either get a warm trickle or a cool drenching. On days like today, the cool drenching no es problema.

Nothing I have said should be construed as complaint or dissatisfaction. It's no secret that I love it here. The heat, the hills, the hugs, the hospitality. Everything here is wonderfully different. Even tonight's half moon, which is hanging in an ebony sky, presents a new face. In Canada, the current phase is a filled-in 'D' - go ahead, look out your window (if you can see luna through the falling snow). Here it's a silver cup waiting to be filled. With just over a week to go, I'm counting down my few remaining days here, and it is not with joyful anticipation of my departure.