a nearly forgotten story.
this morning whan i got out of the house, a guy from the hotel was standing outside the door talking to someone on a balcony above. as i walk out he pipes in spanish "here comes my bride!"
i think to myself, i can leave it and pretend i can't understand (obviously i must look like a gringo these days...) or i can be a little cruel...and so i go "good morning!" in my most latin american accent!
he's flustered but tries to recover, calling me madam and such things. i decide to be nice again and pretend i've no idea what he's on about. instead i ask him about the explosions.
what explosions, he says. i tell him about it and he says, oh yes, that's the fiesta in the pueblo. but then thinks again and decides to gift me with a fairytale: the people from the pueblo, he says are afraid of the rain, and so in order to shoo it away, they fire rockets to the clouds all night long. the rain, put off, retreats for the morning, but always comes back after dark. but that doesn't matter, we say in unison, it can rain all it likes in the night!
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