side of beef

I'm in the Cow.

Again.

(achoo.)

It's one of those axioms of business travel that no matter how prepared you are, you will always forget something when you go on a business trip. Some small thing (or not so small thing) some toiletry, some piece of clothing, some shoe, some sock, some wallet with all your identification and money, will be left behind, and you won't realize it until you unpack at your hotel or try to explain to the police why you're driving 100 miles an hour through a 40 mph zone without a license.

There was a time when I actually tried to avoid this inevitability. I made lists of things. I packed ahead of time. I unpacked and repacked and packed again, checking things off the list as I went. I packed doubles of toiletries. Thing is, and who knows why this eluded me, I always packed doubles of toiletries I already had. Packing two tubes of toothpaste does you no good when you've forgotten to pack the toothbrush. Ditto with packing nine pairs of socks and no shoes.

So this time, I forgot bras. No bras. Blouses, slacks, shoes, socks. No bras. The undershirt I wore to drive to the Cow was selected for comfort rather than actual, shall we say, "support." If I had been wearing a t-shirt instead of a sweatshirt, more than one set of highbeams would've been hitting the road, if you get my drift.

This made for some interestingly self-conscious behavior on my part during my first day at the Cow. Hunched shoulders played a big role. So did my leather jacket, which I wore zipped up the front until I couldn't handle the heat any longer, after which I draped it over my arm and held it strategically across my chest.

I'm not positive what the proper business etiquette is regarding bras in a client's workplace. Just in case there was any misunderstanding -- just in case my clients thought I was intending to make this new perkiness a habit -- I made sure to inform them about my inadvertent omission during the packing process, and promised to go forth and buy underwear that very night.

They were gratified by this information. It all just goes to show that full disclosure is usually the best way to go in establishing a solid relationship of trust.

I have very little to say on the personal front; I'm headed home tonight, back to the comforts of my apartment, my car, and my fiance, not in that order. During this trip, I've been deprived of my usual outlets of email and Internet entertainment, because my work laptop has evolved to a level of infection so catastrophic that if put online, it could be at the epicenter of a viral outbreak that could take out every major economic power in the world. It could single-handedly cause the nuclear meltdown we've been predicting since the 1950s. Windows. Got to love it. Meanwhile, my IT staff handed me a brand new laptop, one which didn't have the means to access . . . well, anything.

On the up side, this means I'm now 34,017 words up in Nanowrimo.

On the down side, I've discovered I'm a lot more productive without the Internet.

Screw you, Al Gore. You're the reason I never graduated medical school.

My hypochondria and distaste for sick people being, of course, the reason I never actually applied to medical school.

From: Sako
Subject: 13 oz.

i often forget that i tend to look slightly different from the gringos i see around here. partly because i´m not a gringo, which i believe means white person. smart sako.

´pst! tss!´

this is something that is called out to all of the local women so i was mildly flattered that they would not single me out and not make these annoying calls. that was until one ignorant fool decided to yell out, ´chino!´

now, i find it my duty to correct people when they categorize me in the wrong ethnic group. i, personally, like to be corrected when i make a wrong assumption. doesn´t everyone?

´yo soy japonese!´ i yelled back.

i guess ASSuming that people liked to be corrected was a mistake. not a second after i had corrected the now re-educated man, he hit me with a stone.
now this wasn´t the first time someone had thrown a rock at me. when we were in oaxaca a cowardly man on a roof of a building hit me with a stone when i didn´t respond to his despicable hissing. i was so flustered with anger that i swore to myself that if that were to ever happen again i would be prepared with a witty verbal response.

it was obvious that this new situation gave me the opportunity to save face, as they say. i could prove that my weeks of preparation were not in vain.
of all the clever comebacks i was taught, the only one that surfaced in my limited spanish mental lexicon was, ´pinche maricon!´

huh? why? sako, you have brought shame to the art of witty comebacks.

the thing you have to remember about central america is that it is absolutely inundated with ´machismo´. you have to hit them where their pride is, i was told. my only disclaimer is that i plead total ignorance to the spanish language and i would never have yelled this out in front of his neighbors if i knew how he was going to respond.

regardless, i think it made him angry since he stood up from his porch and started charging towards me. unfortunately my flatulating brain could do nothing but pick up a piece of brick and hurl it in the man´s general direction. i use the word general very lightly since it was actually thrown no where close to the man. i might as well have been throwing the rock over my shoulder. (now mind you, the rest of this event felt as though it was all in slow motion.) it actually hit and shattered a window some 20 feet to his right.

aw me gawd! a broken window, a rabid man and a poor japonese girl who doesn´t know the ways of el salvador! not a good combination.
he looked back at me with a face of absolute ravaged anger after he saw that i broke his window. we made eye contact at that point and i could swear i could see straight into his soul. if this man got his hands on me he was definitely going to inflict some permanent physical damage to my body.
when he started towards me again, his fist was positioned to strike with authority. just then a mini van drove by and crossed our path. divine intervention!

thank goodness my brain kick started at that point. taking advantage of my getaway moment, i ran past every hooting, hollering, pedestrian on the block. i looked behind my shoulder and saw that he was equally pissed by the intersecting van that he started pounding on the passenger door.
at that point i ran towards home. at the end of the second block, i looked over my shoulder and saw that he was chasing me but was still more than half a block away. i definitely needed to pick up the pace. it´s impressive what your body can do when it´s pumped with adrenaline. after the fifth block, he wasn´t in sight anymore. with my lungs on the brink of exploding, i reached my block.

fortunately for me, in the area i am staying there are armed guards that patrol the streets for situations like this. where is the big guard with the huge machete? he´ll protect me.

whew. that was a bit of excitement.

okay, that´s it. that´s the end of my email.

by the way, did you know that the average human bladder holds 13 oz of fluid?
wow sako, that´s fascinating! please clog my head with more useless information!

maybe next time.

take care!
love,
sako

days on the road: 45-ish
accidents: 2.8
encounters with ´civil servants´: 7
bribes payed: 1 @ $180.00 USD, 1 @ $10.00 USD, and 1 safety belt citation @ 80L (about $5 USD -what a hassle that one was!)
missing limbs/ health report: 0/ the cut on my foot is infected. i had a tetanus shot three years ago due to a little kayaking accident. do i need a booster?
number of fights: 0
car has broken down: three times. something about a clogged air way. PCV was changed by a mechanic. it cost $12 USD.
days w/o showering: so far the longest has been 19 days.
please send: palatable japanese food! good rice, miso soup, pickles, ramen... mmm...