On Tuesday, it poured. I mean, it rains hard almost every
day, but it poured. After maybe 20-30 mins, the three-way street our hostel is
on flooded. I have to admit, it was quite a sight to see. When a car would drive by, it would sed waves of this nasty,
sewage, garbage, dirt water into stores and homes.
I could tell this happens more than once in a blue moon, b/c
shops had these boards inserted into concrete grooves in the door frames. Sean
and I stepped out to get closer pictures and immediately get a wave of water to
our ankles (not to mention regret having come outside).
Then a small p/u truck stalled in the middle of the
three-way. Buses, cars, and tuk-tuks neared, all trying to manouever around the
“sitting duck.”
I rolled up my jeans as high as they would go and walked in
the most disgusting water (if you can call it that) to the truck. I began
pushing as hard as I could, but whenever I’d get some momentum, the driver
would apply the brakes, trying to crank the ignition. Sean, then came in the
water and shouted, “neutrales”
enough times until the driver understood.
Soon the truck was out of water, and after a few more turns
of the ignition, it puttered away. On lookers who had just witnessed an Asian
and a black man push a Guatemalan truck out of flood water all applauded and
cheered.
It was only when Sean and I made our wade back to our hostel
that the three ladies across the street shouted, “otros, otros!!”
pointing to a freshly stalled truck in the three-way.
