This is Kodi getting some lovin. Like most wonderful dogs he loves to run around in the dirt as soon as he gets a bath, so really this is a rather futile attempt, but fun nonetheless. That´s Jonny on the left, Kodi´s dad. He´s one of the sons of Doña Mary, who I rent from, and he loves karaoke. The other day we sang a duet by Romeo Santos and Usher... it was one of the more awkward-yet-culturally appropriate moments of the past month and I promised myself I would never tell anyone about it... soooo don´t tell anyone.
Here´s the main house. My room is directly to the left of the camera, but I spend a good deal of time in this little courtyard hanging out and traumatizing the parrots, who can been glimpsed in their cage on the right.
This is a road. It has gates leading to homes. And if you follow it long enough you´ll reach those mist-covered mountains, where you´re just as likely to stumble across wild llamas, waterfalls, or cocaine farmers in equal proportion. Although the waterfalls are easiest to find because they tend to stay in one place.
An apartment complex currently under construction across the street from my house. Like all individuals who have an insatiable desire to get to the top of things, I wanted to sneak onto the roof of this building to admire the view, but was advised against it by every single person I mentioned the idea to. Hmmm... I guess I´ll have to go at night.
This is Hiroshi. Grandson to Doña Mary and bane of my existence. Don´t be fooled by his I-had-two-mimosas-for-breakfast grin, he´s really quite the little curb-stomping gangster. The other day he swatted me with a fly swatter. A fly swatter. Those things have germs. After disarming him and swinging him around in the air a while to show my disproval I think he finally got the message and has learned to fear me.
Okay this picture´s not all that funny. Well... I guess it could be depending on your level of personal nurture and parental love... but for the sake of argument we´ll just say it´s not all that funny. But don´t worry, it wasn´t my blood. I went out the other night with some friends and after a hilarious night of dancing we were about ready to make our way home. By this time it was late, again for the sake of argument let´s just say it was between 10:30 and 6:00, and one of the guys in our party decides instead of taking a taxi home, which is cheap and infinitely more secure than walking, he´s going to... yep... walk. To complicate matters he´s also somewhat intoxicated, which doesn´t help in the whole avoding-robbery/murder scenario. He takes off, and after a somewhat hurried discussion I take off after him with another friend while the rest of the group makes their way home.We made it about a block and a half when suddenly we hear a girl screaming her head of, crying, and asking for help all at the same time. (I marvel at how some people can do this) As we round the corner we see three guys pinning another guy to a wall and laying into his face with their fists. (why in the world can´t i just say fighting? there were three guys fighting another guy... nnnoooo i´ve got to sound creative with the whole laying into face thing... what is that? imagery? well it´s poor imagery if anything and i should be ashamed) Anyway, even though our friend was still off wondering by his lonesome, I wasn´t about to let some guy´s chances of having a full set of teeth be ruined by one night´s drunken brawl, so without further ado I started hollering (it´s good to sound like you´re mad in these sorts of situations) and hauling guys off of mr. punching bag. The fight broke up momentarily as my buddy and I tried to figure out what was going on, but just as things seemed like they were going to settle down two of tender meat´s friends came rushing around the corner and suddenly the playing field was leveled and a proper brawl could ensue. Sorry mom for the language but I clearly remember at that exact moment thinking, ¨well shit.¨
Even though I was actively restraining one of the original beater-uppers, one of the friends of the victim rushes up to me and without even a hello punches me in the nose. I know right? The gall of some people... not even a ¨how´s your night going¨ or ¨hey i´m about to try to hurt you.¨
Well, needless to say this presented me with a moral conundrum, what with my pacifistic tendencies and all. Although I should clarify that even though his intention may have been to bash mr. gringo (that´s me) in the face it turned out to be more of a flail, and the extent of my injuries didn´t range beyond something you´d receive while dancing in a mosh pit at an Insane Clown Posse concert (not that I´ve ever been to one of their shows, no no no, i have standards). My nose was fine and if anything was injured it probably should have been his pride at throwing such a weak punch. At that moment I thought about giving him a bro hug in case he was feeling ashamed about his previous attempt at injuring me, but I figured the safer, and probably more universally appropriate thing to do would be to avoid further interaction.
I explained I didn´t want to fight him (which wasn´t true, i actually kind of did because i was pretty sure that would be an easy WIN in my book) and that I was helping his friend. After some more name-calling and head-butting and punch-throwing and courage-mustering the brawl started to ease into more of a scuffle, and then into something quite similar to football players congratulating each other after a touchdown. The two groups took off in opposite directions and my friend and I were left standing in the street surrounded by our own amazement... and the girl. Yeah she was still there, still crying, and still visibly shaken from the whole previous experience. In between feeling my nose to make sure it wasn´t bleeding I managed to figure out where she lived, and to make a much longer story somewhat shorter, we eventually managed to find a taxi and get her home safely.
So I think that´s a happy ending. I was wondering, like any conservatively educated Christian, What Jesus Would Do (WJWD right right?) to break up a fight. I imagine he probably would have been much more creative. I can see him singing, or perhaps walking on one of the puddles of rainwater that were collecting in the street (unfortunately i can´t do either of those things). Maybe he would have drawn in the dirt or shared a parable that would have confused everyone into thoughtful reflection. But I don´t know... maybe he would have yelled and hauled guys off of each other and taken a lame punch in the nose. That´d be cool. I doubt it but that´d be cool.
Either way I´m reminded that it´s hard to love people sometimes. People are stupid. Granted, that is just one of many characteristics that also include beautiful, brave, mysterious, and Christlike, but still. We tend to do stupid things. And in the midst of those stupid things, those poor decisions, I find myself continually learning how to love well. Even though I totally suck at it most times, in my little self-satisfying sort of ways, it´s a challenge, and one I am quite happy to spend the remainder of my years pursuing.
