Michael: Another Twofer

The taste of raisins
And nuts; a sweet and salty, crunchy,
Squishy mix of joy.

Saturday, June 3, 2017

Everything runs out here or turns off which wouldn’t be so bad if it happened in a predictable fashion. Thursday it was the gas canisters’ turn.

Our small casita’s water and oven is heated by two gas canisters; one for the kitchen and one for the bathroom. Because we use the gas for the kitchen much more than for the bathroom, the two canisters are used up at different rates, which is generally pretty convenient - emphasis on generally.

The reason that works is because when we run out of gas in the kitchen we can switch over tanks and keep the kitchen going while we wait until it’s convenient to go get another canister. While we only have one tank, we’ve got to switch over lines to take a shower which is a small inconvenience, but only a short lived problem.

However, every once in a great while, as we discovered on Thursday, the stars align in such a way that the rotation of our canisters caused both of them to run out at the same time. And exactly while Kimme was trying to prepare an elaborate dinner.

I tried to call our usual source, our neighbor and landlord, Luzmilla, to see if she had a back up tank but she wasn’t answering. That left me with the two choices; call a taxi or walk the twenty minutes to the store in fading light and with the chance of rain always looming. Calling a taxi seemed the better choice but with my limited Spanish and lack of knowledge of the taxi protocol here, I wasn’t sure how successful I’d be.

My first attempt failed. I got through but either because of a bad connection or my inability to describe my location, the dispatcher didn’t assign me a cab.
But I didn’t know that at the moment. I only discovered that after I waited for about 20 minutes then called a second time.  On that call I decided to change strategies and play on the operator’s sympathy by starting off noting that I didn’t speak much Spanish -”Pardon, hablo poquito Espanol…” then doing the best I could to describe my location. That seemed to do the trick as she assigned me taxi #14. And another “ah-ha” moment emerged. If you’re given a taxi’s # that means a taxi’s coming your way.

We do know a very nice English speaking taxi driver here - Kique; whom I’m going to have to talk to about this whole taxi protocol. For example, is it proper to ask how long it’s going to take, or should we just be at the ready as soon as we call? And what’s the most polite way to request a taxi or do you just keep it plain and simple? Or if there’s any other aspects of the taxi experience here I’m overlooking because I’m a gringo?

Hopefully, we’ll get it worked out and after two years I’ll be able to confidently call for a taxi and get a ride into town.