Another long walk

Dan: This week somebody in our neighborhood got wi-fi, so we did as well. We were thinking about getting cable to have internet, but that sounded like a big investment, especially since we don’t know if we’ll stay in this apartment for very long. But now we have an intermittent connection. It goes from one bar to four bars and back, all day. Things load slowly, we can’t stream anything, and I think Skype would be a real pain. We basically have internet from 1998, but it saves us a few pesos and a few steps.

Yesterday we went looking for a market that may or may not exist. I wanted to find a place like the markets of Mexico and Central America where everything from pigs heads to power rangers backpacks are sold at very reasonable prices. I´m currently on the lookout for a cheap guitar. We were told that some sort of market or fair was between the bus station and the mall. We walked and walked. Whenever we asked someone on the way about the outdoor market, they either said that they hadn’t heard of such a thing, or said that it was still really far away, and that if we do get there we should be careful, due to the kind of people at such a market. Eventually we just ended up at the shopping mall. It was like walking into a little slice of Eden Prairie; shiny glass, movie theater, free bathrooms. We had some pasta and beer in the food court and found a bus to take back home. Big adventure. Tired legs.
Food: The other day we went to the pasta shop around the corner. They have fresh made or ready-to-eat food. We got some fresh raviolis (ricotta for lou, carne for me). They come in sheets, so you first cut them apart, then throw them in boiling water for 2 minutes and chow down. My raviolis were absolutely amazing little pillows of meat, cheese and spices. The texture was like no other ravioli I’ve had. The pasta part was thinner and whiter. In addition to various fresh pastas, the shop also sells take and bake pre-pizza crusts, sauces, and various doughy meat or veggie pies.

There was a little test for my Spanish and my willingness to make waves at the pasta shop. I didn’t realize until a few hours later, when the shop was closed, that I was given the wrong change. It was the equivalent of about $12, which is almost four trips to the pasta shop, so I had to come back the next day and explain what happened. They gave me quite a little lecture about always counting my change and paying attention, and that no one else would believe me but they would. I got my change back. I hope I can show my face in there again because I haven’t tried their gnocchi yet.