Eric, Butch and I headed off to the church. The other time we had gone in a group, we were talking and not paying a whole lot of attention.
So we took off, talking. None of us was leading and we were all following each other. It was a beautiful thing. Till we got lost.
We asked directions in our special gringo dialect that we hope to trademark some day, and an elderly woman very nicely pointed us in the wrong direction. She probably said, "You three gringos better not head down this road, or you will be robbed and murdered."
We smiled and said "gracias!" And then headed down the road. It was the opposite direction from the church. After a bit of laughing and muscle-flexing (easier for some of us than others), we spied a few from our team walking up a nearby hill towards us. We hid behind a building to surprise them. Five minutes later they had not arrived. Eric peered around the corner; they'd vanished. "Ah," we said. "Oscar's house must be down there." It was, along with directions.
We were almost to the church when Marta, one of our translators, popped out of a sidestreet behind us. "I have been looking for you," she said. Three big, sheepish smiles, but nothing more. You may have heard about the famous "gringo code of silence."
So we took off, talking. None of us was leading and we were all following each other. It was a beautiful thing. Till we got lost.
We asked directions in our special gringo dialect that we hope to trademark some day, and an elderly woman very nicely pointed us in the wrong direction. She probably said, "You three gringos better not head down this road, or you will be robbed and murdered."
We smiled and said "gracias!" And then headed down the road. It was the opposite direction from the church. After a bit of laughing and muscle-flexing (easier for some of us than others), we spied a few from our team walking up a nearby hill towards us. We hid behind a building to surprise them. Five minutes later they had not arrived. Eric peered around the corner; they'd vanished. "Ah," we said. "Oscar's house must be down there." It was, along with directions.
We were almost to the church when Marta, one of our translators, popped out of a sidestreet behind us. "I have been looking for you," she said. Three big, sheepish smiles, but nothing more. You may have heard about the famous "gringo code of silence."
