Journals

Packs of stray dogs roam the streets. Sometimes they roam alone. I see them rummaging through trash looking for scraps. Their coats are mangy and matted. Their eyes are gooey. Often times ribs show. Sometimes there’s a limp or other indication of pain. One evening around dusk, I was walking through Central Parque on my way to the rotunda to meet Martina. Raucous laughter caught my attention. Just as I turned to glance, I saw a flash of light, heard the crackling boom of fireworks, and caught sight of a dog escaping the grasp of the two grown men who attempted to hold the fireworks to the dog’s body. Even simply writing this account…ugh. It’s like holding a needle to my eyeball. Some precious aspect of humanity is clearly lacking in these vile “people” who harm the defenseless (animals, children, disabled). I felt like an erupting volcano about to spew hot lava. As the laughter continued, I repeated over and over to myself just keep walking . I was well aware that it wouldn’t be smart for a solo gringa to furiously confront a pack of men on the streets of a foreign city. It would be feo for sure. But, I still feel conflicted that I simply kept walking.   Several days later, I sat in the park eating platanos with frijoles and tortillas from a nearby café. It was a generous serving of food for $2 – more than I could finish. I approached a stray dog and set the frijoles down in front of her. Just as I was about to empty the rest of my scraps to the ground, I realized the man on the curb beside me was hungry.   He unhesitatingly accepted my tortilla and platanos. The people here are welcoming and kind, the culture is rich, and landscape beautiful. I However, for a bleeding heart this can be a difficult place that at times, if you allow it, can drive you inward. Such is true for much of the world I suppose.