So today when I woke up I realized I had double booked my schedule. I had class with my new teacher and intermediate students at 9am.
The class was no more then a dozen students. A mix between Mexicanos and Americans. I was informed that I was the only one whom didn’t have access to a resource for the class, which is a shotty way to be introduced to your peers.
Class typically runs two hours and since it was the first day I wanted to stay for the whole time. The problem was that I was also scheduled to work at Argentina’s Best Empanadas. A new job and a part-time source of funds. I decided the best option was to attend as much of class as possible before I had to start selling empanadas.
When I arrived at the kitchen the order was twice as big as I expected. Unfortunately I was going to have to deliver two 16”- 24” crates to the local mercado. Monica the cook, a very polite mid aged latinoamericana, always seems to dish out exactly what you give. She and her daughter, who’s name I do not know, I only recognize her by her rose tattoo on her forearm, tend to have a cheerful disposition when I come in for a pick up.
When driving with a car full of the intoxicating aroma of freshly made pastries it’s a good idea to keep your senses sharp. My classmates whom had gone over the six month lesson plan consisting of presentations, dialogues and literature analysis were all keeping there attention to their screens. While I frantically tried to get ahold of a worker at the mercado to receive the two crates.
Lucky for me I was able to park curbside near the drop off zone between an elderly man plugging in his crimson Tesla and an A-frame sign warning vendors not to drive vehicles on the sidewalk during market hours.
After three missed calls and a text message I was finally able to get a worker on the line. Turns out they had a line stretching all the way to Bangkok and were just now able to check their phones.
While I was waiting a couple of interesting occurrences transpired. First was that the vendors near the cross walk where I was waiting were being serenaded by an elderly guitarista whom had made himself home under one of our many Elder trees.
The second interesting occurrence was an interaction between a little girl and two poodles. It seemed that most of the customers had brought their pets to the mercado. I am myself a patron of animals.
Thirdly was the two nearest booths content. I realize that salsa is a hot commodity, two booths on prime real estate must mean it sells like dulce to niños.
When the Worker Ezra picked up I informed him that I was at the same location I had been last week. I helped him load the dolly and was off to the tienda. I only caught a few words from the class …ba’ax…. kaansa’ja… bey…
Opening the tienda was easy enough a few switches, stocking the product. The most complicated task was connecting the Bluetooth speaker to the shop’s iPhone. Cumbia music is my favorite station.
The patrons here tend to be of a sabio mindset. Always asking the right questions, bantering, patient. It’s a shame that the store hours are so corto. But I guess that’s part of the appeal.