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Franco was one of the first actual volunteers in the field that I got to know. He came in a year ahead of me, where he also lived in the same region I do. Having much in common, we became fast friends. Things got off to a fast start when during culture week, I, along with some other new volunteers, helped Franco carry a pig over to his site. He planned to use the next year to fatten up the pig and then carve it up for his going away party.
So I couldn’t miss the despadidad. I mean, quid pro quo. You don’t help someone carry a pig and not get a couple slices, right?
That brings us to this past Saturday. We made it to Franco’s site in the early afternoon just before the rain arrived. Franco, anxious to get to the party, decided it would be a good idea to walk in the rain. So that meant we had to go down this in the rain:
I somehow managed to slide halfway down it without getting that muddy. A miracle, really.
From there the party’s festivities picked up. The pig was cut up and delicious. There was some dancing and a general festive atmosphere. All the while, the rain continued. The party broke up a little past dark (there is no electricity at Franco’s site) so us gringos headed back to his place. And that’s when things got a bit nuts.
By this time, the trail leading back to Franco’s home was a complete mess. When we made it back to his house, we were covered and mud and looked like we just spent the weekend at Woodstock.
But it was all in good fun. I’m going to miss hanging out with Franco, even if he thinks soccer is the best sport. It’s kind of odd when a friend of yours down here leaves, because they go back to life in the states, while you’re left trying to fill the void.
But enough self loathing. Franco’s got a bright future ahead of him. Good luck, buddy.
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2 comments:
I loved the Woodstock quote...
That night sure was a great time!
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