Friday, October 9, 2009

The Road To Aticama, Part 7, Dont Be In A Hurry Gringo

I was born impatient and independent I think. It was early morning and the rest of the crew was sleeping. I wandered over to the little cone shaped restaurant and sat down on a rusty chair. The place looked open, there were sounds of people talking, chickens fussing and children playing but no one appeared to take my order. I walked to the kitchen door and knocked. A girl around 8 or 9 showed up and started talking fast and I understood nothing. She did not understand me when I asked where my waitress was. She left and returned with a middle aged round and happy looking woman who smiled at me, speaking really fast also. This was a problem. I wanted a cup of coffee and we were not communicating. There on the shelf was a jar of Nescafe next to a gallon can of Neido. It was getting lighter outside and I noticed that the place was illuminated by oil lamps. No electricity. For those of you who don't know Neido, it is a brand of dried milk. Really good back then. I pointed to the coffee and sat back down. 10 minutes later the jar and a cracked cup of hot water was in front of me along with a middle aged man who spoke broken Spanglish. I asked for a menu. He said, we don't have a menu, just food. This is good I thought and asked for a plate of eggs with potato's. No potato's, how about onions instead? Soon the smell of paper burning coconut wood drifted from the kitchen followed by the smell of onions frying. Nice. In the corner of my eye there was that little girl pulling eggs from a dilapidated excuse of a chicken koope. My first breakfast on Matanchen Bay arrived with fresh bread and loads of chilies.

My life was heaven.

Salud

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