As I made my way from the hotel room where I had just enjoyed ten hours of uninterrupted sleep, I was greeted by housekeeping, an older man and woman, Indian, as evidenced by the Bindi on her forehead. They were so friendly, but did not speak much English. The woman approached me requesting the key and that the door be left open. At least, that's what her hand gestures seemed to indicate. When I complied she put her hands together in front of her and bowed with thanks. The man said, "You have good day!". I returned the blessing and made my way downstairs.
On the previous night when walking to the hotel I noticed there was a new Mexican restaurant that had opened in an old spot that has been several things including a video rental shack, and a Bubble Tea House. It was about quarter 'til eleven when I was passing by. I noticed the door was open and people were inside. As I came to the threshold of the doorway, I leaned in to find there were six or eight women from young to old. Gran Madre stood directly in front of me, as another women stood to my left next to me at the door.
I greeted the group and said only one word because I remember several words in Spanish, but am not good at forming sentences and can only speak Spanish in the present tense when I do try to form sentences. I love beans! There's just something about the way they taste at a Mexican restaurant that you can't get anywhere else. I'm so glad to see this place called El Zarco on Broad across from the cobble stone street everyone knows.
"Frijoles", I asked with a question mark of inflexion, while I was looking at the apparent matriarch of the group. "Ohh", she responded which seemed to say she did not speak English. The woman next to me appeared to be of African decent, but Spanish speaking, interceded in Spanish telling Gran Madre that I wanted beans, to which I added "Refritos". She understood at that point when my interpreter told me they would be open in about 11 minutes!
I thanked them and went outside to drop my bag and stretch out the morning kinks in the parking lot. After a few minutes of that, I noticed there was a small table with seating across the lot just a few steps away. I took a seat at the table. Not two or three minutes later, the Gran Madre comes walking out with a white plastic sack. Approaching me, she extends her arm and hands me the sack. I confirmed it was my beans when my interpreter showed up again telling me they were free! I was a little confused because I wanted lunch too. My interpreter told Gran Madre I wanted lunch to which she replied once again with "Ohh".
I began to wonder if she just wanted me to leave having brought the beans in sack very graciously for free! Finally, it dawned on me, she thinks I'm begging for food!!! Beyond that, now she also thinks I'm asking for MORE food in the name of Fajitas!!! In a moment of clarity, I reached in my pocket and showed her my money, "Tengo el dinero", I have the money, I said to her when I began to laugh as did my interpreter. It was a beautiful life moment especially when you consider most people do not prejudge me as a poor beggar and have a hard time believing I've lived as a street cat for over a decade in Athens, Ga. Add to that the fact, I had just showered and shaved and even washed my hair. The only indicator of my poverty was the backpack I carried, but in this town everyone carries one.
At this point, the waitress came to take my order, bringing chips and salsa as is typical of a Mexican restaurant. The Fajitas were on the way! As I waited, my phone rang. It was my Dad. I was telling him about what just happened and we were both laughing about it when three woman including my interpreter came to the table with smiles on their faces giving me grips of the friendship we had just formed. They began laughing with us when my Dad, listening in hearing the commotion and laughter asked where I was. I said, "I'm still here. We UNITE on BEANS! That's my interpreter and her friends. I'm hanging out with three woman from Panama, right now", I joked as they were telling me good bye.
He just laughed! My son, the one who lives on the streets, who once won a costume contest as a child dressed as a Hobo! An urban dwelling Hobo, who is usually clean shaven and fairly well mannered, the guy that picks up empty zip lock bags on the streets thrown down on the ground by other street people with the same childhood hand to mouth disorder, where you take what's in the wrapper, eat it, and then just leave the wrapper behind, on the ground. My Dad must have been thinking along these lines about the character I am. Just another Spaghetti Head that thankfully had the mess unravelled!
One thing I can say for myself, is I'm not a slob, but most street people are. See, I grew up on the Golf course. Golf is a game of etiquette, and etiquette is a part of life you learn as a child because if you don't, you just won't. Golf is a dignified game as the Master's is going on right now, just about ninety minutes away by car, it breeds manners, etiquette, dignity and certain humility for most.
So, on this my 39th birthday, again, I am thankful for being exposed to Golf throughout my youth because it helped shape my character. Even if you can't be a professional player, you can Master dignity and etiquette from the same game the pros are playing at this very moment!
So, I began my day with a language barrier that could not mask the loving spirit being reciprocated between me and the Indian couple who greeted me as I left my room. It continued with Gran Madre just a five minute walk away! One of the sweetest gestures of mistaken identity I think I've ever experienced having been prejudged for most of my life in the positive. It was beautiful! She judged correctly in that I live on the streets, but incorrectly in that I was asking for a hand out. A leg up would be nice, but never a hand out! As a member of the working poor, I can attest working doesn't pay the rent, but it gives me something to do.
Of course, I like to say, I could take all the money I make and put it toward rent and have a place to live, but then I would would have no life. And, I'd miss moments like these I have been richly blessed with no matter what language you speak!
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El Zarco
https://www.redandblack.com/athensnews/family-run-restaurant-el-zarco-brings-fresh-mexican-dishes-to/article_56a8b94a-319f-11e9-8abf-3b561450d0f2.html
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