
Amid the decay and torn up
streets (there is money to replace water pipes and electrical cables), people
are going about their lives. Someone asks where I am from, and I mumble
something about Estados
Unidos - I get a big hug. Fruit vendors try to sell us something
off their carts, a few men ask if I want to buy genuine (read: fake) Cohiba
cigars; a barber works on a customer in a doorway facing the street; and old
woman sells coffee from her window; cabinetmakers work on a project in a shell
of a building that looks like it will fall on their heads any minute; a man on
the street makes a living by refilling disposable butane lighters. Everywhere,
there are the famous old American cars, in every color of the rainbow, except
maybe black, white or gray. Some are for hire in front of the higher end
hotels, but many are shared taxis that shuttle people to work and back. Lines of passengers wait at pickup points and coordinate who is going where. That, and the public transportation system, seems to handle most of the morning commute. No solo drivers here.
Wow. Just wow. I feel another book in the making (hope, hope).
ReplyDeleteWhat an amazing adventure - will be interesting to see you revisit these same places in another few years and see the changes-
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