"Avacate, avacate! Mango ...Avacate! ...Ava-avacate-mango!"
Sábado, 9:30 AM. I wake up to the sound of a vendor on the street below me. He passes through pedding his goods door-to-door, calling out for customers. It must be downright exhausting. It struck me today how very well this avacado vendor is able to project his voice. I swear I can hear him from the top of the hill, about 400 yards away.
By the time he is outside my window I am completely awake. And I'm tempted to holler down to him "cuanto?" 'how much?'. But with my luck he might think I mean 'How many are there?', in which case he'll assume that I want to buy the whole lot-- clean him out, just like I did with the milk at the Exito last night.
¡Gringo!
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