(THIS IS MOM - WE'RE GOING TO TAKE A STEP BACK IN TIME NOW. I JUST RECEIVED THIS ENTRY FROM MAY!)
The road keeps heading off to the right. I'm all alone in the car, whirring along at a decent pace. Apparently, I won't have to worry about parking meters when I get there. I don't know where this thought came from, but I remember she said it now. I continue around the turn, wondering if there could be a better way to wear my hat.
A beeping in the car.
BEEP - BEEP - BEEP
My alarm. I turn it off and three seconds later I'm back into reality.
"It's 4 AM", I think to myself. I sit there for a second. It would be so easy just to go right back to sleep. But John Juan would be disappointed. And this is real.
My body feels less tired than it ought to be and I move around in my surprisingly chilly room with the ease of a full night's sleep.
I put on a couple layers of clothing - it's winter after all - and head out into the night. It never occurred to me that I would be very ALONE at 4 AM on the streets. All of a sudden, I feel scared and insecure, like a slowly moving glow-in-the-dark target. But the calm of the night and of my confidence in this town reassures me. It's different here.
I take the well-lit path nonetheless. When I hit the main road, I see people trying to sleep in doorways and entrances to shops. Aside from the signs in Portuguese, there's nothing visually to clue me in that I'm not in Cleveland any more. The familiarity is eerie.
I hit the road, taking a brisk left and as I see the sign for the padaria (bread shop), I realize that I'm actually doing this - I'm going to see the inside of the bread shop!
I met John Juan on the chapa to the other major city around here. He bought me a beer. I saw him back in town later in the week, at the bread store, and asked when I could get the grand tour. He wanted to practice his English, so he'd switch from Portuguese at every opportunity, demonstrating at least a 10th grade education.
He said 3 o'clock is when he checks in for his shift. To make sure he'd be around, I decided 4 was safer. I was fairly certain that 3 meant 3 AM because the 24-hour clock is used here. And he knew AM/PM, so he would clarify if necessary.
I arrived at the door, opened to a hallway, through which I could see and smell everything. My glasses fogged up, as expected. Several stacks of crates, full of bread, blocked my view of what was going on inside. I could see a few men walking around, directing this machine to press, another to grind. The smell was overwhelming.
I waited for someone to notice me, which wouldn't take long. Soon enough, an older man who didn't seem to belong, started speaking clearly, but in a rambling way about cigarettes, and displayed a used phone card. I asked about John Juan and he said that he had been called. The man gave me the used phone card, calling it some sort of promise for 2 cigarettes, and wandered off into the night.
I found someone official who told me John Juan doesn't arrive until 15 hours (3PM). Not wholly unexpected. I thanked him and walked back home.
I'm quite tired of thinking. I've been very sentimental tonight, remembering the coziest places I've been and how close all the people I cared about were to me. It's the closeness, physical proximity that ends up determining emotional closeness, that I miss so badly.
And so "mandzuko i sihu" (tomorrow is a day).
Peace
John
