hello, sabana grande

Here, chickens roam freely and feisty dogs are guards. Young women carry water from the well on their heads, and boys bike awkwardly with the buckets on their handle bars. Here, coffee is made, tortillas are fried, and breakfast is cooked on an adobe stove over fire. No one eats together. Is this normal? I hope they warm up to me. Here, radios mumble from kitchens, and silence is hard to come by. Here, the water is cold from the bucket and it's hard to get my hair clean. Here, young men rap on the stands as kids play futbol with the gringos. The mountains are beautiful, and the full moon is out as we walk home in the dark.