It was hot, sunny day and the ancient ruins of a building unknown to me were crumbling on my left. Patio tables, fully decked with fried breakfast goods laid in plenty, surrounded a scene somewhat deserted. Running through with my friend, we stopped in delight and started filling our pockets with goodly treats. Turning the corner, a band of busboys and waiters start walking towards us. We dash past them, dropping a few pakoras along the way. Finally, we reach our destination. A house with no walls. A giant mountain is the setting of the living room, but somehow we have digital cable, and plenty of sofas. In the kitchen, an exotic woman is cooking. As if we have known eachother for a long time, I rush to her and give her a hug and immediately start helping with the food. My friend, whom none of these people have met, is dressed in a dark blue blazer with a bin on his left lapel. Touting the name of a political candidate, the exotic woman sees him and orders that he will not be allowed in the house. At dusk he will be killed.
Pleading with her, she refuses to comply and says that anyone who supports her opponent in the running is not to be in her house, and certainly she will not let him live out the rest of his days. Somehow, the worry fades away and while she continues readying the feast we go to the living room and watch the Olympics on digital cable. The room is filled with faces unknown to me, but personalities so familiar. Some are speaking Spanish, and my replies in English seem not to phase anyone. We carry on a conversation that in reality would make no sense, but in this dream hold so much weight and genuinity.
I return to the kitchen to try and reason with the chef one more time. I ask her name, thinking that perhaps I would recognize it if she is in such a large campaign for office. She tells me her name is Christina - last name unknown. My eyes widen, and I tell her that my name is Christina too. This connection, like any other, brings us to a point of closeness. I tell her about my friend and that he doesn’t support the opponent. I tell her about the feast we encountered on the way to the house, and that he found that pin while we were running through the ruins. She laughs and immediately understands. She also give us many kudos for taking the food from the patio. As it turns out, the fried breakfast foods were there for the opponent’s luncheon that was to be held that afternoon. She calls my friend in to the kitchen and explains everything. She feeds us well, and we continue tot he living room.
As it turns out, we are in Mexico. My cell phone doesn’t have service and this worries me because yesterday at my dance studio I sold several tickets and forgot to record them in the log book. I need to borrow someone’s calling card to tell my mother, but everyone’s calling card is maxed out. It’s only Friday, and we aren’t scheduled to go home until Tuesday. I can’t wait this long, so I decide that I will return home on foot tomorrow morning.
Everyone keeps telling me that going back on foot would take longer than just waiting until Tuesday. But strangely, I can’t remember how I got there. My only option was to let my feet take me where they would on a journey back home.
