Finishing things up
One week to go. I’m packing, and I’m going out tonight.
I pick up my laundry downstairs, and I’m going to miss the woman who runs it. She’s very sweet, and treats my lack of Spanish nicer than others here.
I’m coming up the stairs with my clean laundry, and a little Dominican girl comes down the stairs. Cute little thing, she’s obviously going outside to meet with her mommy at the hair parlor or to meet up with her friends.
She sees me and says “Hola”
I’m in shock, no one here talked to me for two years. NO ONE! Except for that crazy Puerto Rican next door.
So I say “Hola” back.
In english she says, “I can speak english and spanish.”
“You’re very lucky.” I tell her. “I can only speak english.”
She goes downstairs, and I go to my apartment.
Even though hola, is a greeting, I’ll take it as “Yeah our loud music drove you insane, and you’re linguistically crippled in this building, but you were nice, and didn’t cause any problems so good luck.”
Thanks 192nd street.
