small town

So there is very very little to do in this town. On the radio this morning, we heard the words "cinca gringas de los estados unidos . . ." and perked our ears up. Apparently, the five of us coming to volunteer at the clinic for three weeks is indeed newsworthy. We´ve even been asked to come by the radio station for an interview this weekend. Given the state of our Spanish, we´re not 100% convinced our charm will translate over the radio waves but since there´s nothing else to do on a Saturday afternoon, we just may chance it.

The desk clerk at the hostel is equally enthralled with the novelty of our whiteness. For the first few days she would wander into my room at random intervals and go through my stuff.
"This is a book! In English! You read it? In English? What happens in it? You like to read books? This is a book in English."
"This is your white shirt! For the hospital? You wear it when you work at the clinic? Are you a doctor? Why aren´t you a doctor? Doctors wear white shirts. This shirt is white. For doctors."

This has gotten old so now she sits on the couch and carefully monitors our comings and goings with extraordinary diligence.

"You´re leaving now."
"Oh! You´re back."
"You´re leaving again?"
"Now you´re back!"

She offered to do our laundry for free yesterday. I imagine she´s just curious about our clothes. Or it´s something to do.