Sucre, 04/22/12

This weekend was more tranquilo, being dedicated to minimal activity after the very busy weekend before. It was pretty much a walk in the park, literally. Much of the discretionary time was bench sitting, watching people, an easy and enjoyable task. There were the teenagers, joking, laughing, all phones in hand or on the ear. There were the vendors with cheap candy, helado (ice cream), balloons, fresh popcorn and bird seed. There were the curbside car washers, giving wash and wax for about $3, with their buckets of soap and rinse water. There were the families, bringing thier young childre to enjoy the sun, while the youngest feed the pigeons or secitedly chased them around the statute of Antonio Jose Sucre, or they posed for photos atop one of the two lions on either side of the statute. There were the garden crews, digging and replanting below the spread of teh palms and other trees, to maintain the beautiful mixture of green and bright color. There were the lovers, mostly young, but not all, holding hands, hugging kissing. And there were the old friends, reflecting on life, politics, age and the past.

There was the walk through the central market, several streets of virtually everything available for consumption. Certainly there was the market for produce, meat and pan. So many, so much. I wonder what happens at the end of the day, with the unsold. Are there methods to assure that the expiration dates are not exceeded? I proceeded to several vendors selling pirated CDs (they all are), both music and movie, where the price ranges from $1 to $2, wondering if customs will object.

And finished with a rare bar night, cerveza for me, while my younger school friends, from Canada, Australia, New Zealand and Scotland consumed stronger content. Funny how the group all had some degree of allegiance to the Queen. But, I enjoyed the brief break from the spanish. My accent without the latin did get a comment. I have commented before on the enjoyment of the cultural discovery and exploration with fellow travelers from abroad, how different we all are from each other.

We will see how the brief momentary diversion prepares me for the upcoming week, my first as a volunteer in Sucre.

Its like when your making conversation
And you´re trying not to scream
And you´re trying not to tell them
But you don´t care what they mean
And you´re really felling fragile
And you really can´t get home
And you really feel abandoned
But you want to be alone.
Old friends, they shine like diamonds
Old friends, you can always call
Old friends, lord you can´t buy them
You know its old friends after all.

When the house is empty
And the light begins to fade
And there´s nothing to protect you
Except a window shade
Its hard to put your finger on the thing
That scares you most.
And you can´t tell the difference
Between an angel and a ghost.
Old friends, they shine like diamonds
Old friends, you can always call
Old friends, lord you can´t buy them
You know its old friends after all.

(G. Clark)