Erica wears the bright white uniform of the hotel staff, but her smile is even brighter. She does a lot of things that others would consider chores: cooking and serving breakfast, cleaning the rooms, mopping the floors, doing the laundry… When we gave our dog’s beds for washing, the manager refused to use the washer and drier, reserved for clothes and bed sheets, so Erica did them by hand. Just like that, without any resentment, only a smile. When Mai and I were both writing on the rooftop deck in the extreme heat of Cartagena, an angel appeared with the unexpected gift of two fresh fruit smoothies, on the house. And when we left the hotel, after we said goodbye to the staff, Erica was the only one watching through the window and waving her hand as we drove away.
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The coconut man is always found at the same street corner. His machete chops the tough fruits with unbelievable ease, a skill developed over a lifetime of daylong practice. He collects the juice in a container, scoops a spoonful and tastes the mixture before pouring it in single-serving plastic bags. He quality-tests every single one, and throws into the gutter any batch that is not up to snuff. On his rolling display cart, a few simple words in capital letters: “Cristo te ama / Coco frío” (Christ loves you / Cold coconuts).
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Pachacutec stands in front of the altar with his wife and daughter, dressed in white Inca clothes covered by a red traditional “uncu” (a sort of poncho). Out of his bag he pulls a candle and starts rubbing it gently and lovingly on the child’s hair, her heart, her arms. Pachacutec endows the candle with her energy before lighting it up and placing it on the altar. The flame is now burning for her. After a silent prayer he goes through the same ritual with his wife. Standing a few feet away, I can almost touch the Love and lightness that radiates from this man. By his sheer presence, Pachacutec makes the world a better place.
Cedric, 02/26/2012
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