Three gringos in Venezuela and Central AmericaDavis, Richard Harding
General
Three gringos in Venezuela and Central America
Davis, Richard Harding
Central America -- Description and travel; Louisiana State Lottery Company; Venezuela -- Description and travel
All of these idlers gathered in the shade around the women who sold
sweet drinks and sticks of pink-and-yellow candy. They were the public
characters of the place and the centre of all the gossip of the
town, and presided over their tables with great dignity in freshly
ironed frocks and brilliant turbans. They were very handsome and very
clean-looking, with bare arms and shoulders, and their hair always
shone with cocoanut oil, and was wonderfully braided and set off with
flowers stuck coquettishly over one ear. The men used to sit around
them in groups on the bags of coffee waiting for export, and on the
boxes of barbed wire, which seemed to be the only import. And sometimes
a small boy would buy a stick of candy or command the mixture of a
drink, and the woman would fuss over her carved gourds, and rinse and
rub them and mix queer liquors with a whirling stick of wood that she
spun between the palms of her hands. We would all watch the operation
with great interest, the natives on the coffee-sacks and ourselves upon
the balcony, and regard the small boy while he drank the concoction
with envy.
The veranda had loose planks for its floor, and gaping knot-holes
through which the legs of our chairs would sink suddenly, and which
we could use on those occasions when we wanted to drop penknives and
pencils and water on the heads of those passing below. Our companions
in idleness were the German agents of the trading-houses and young
Englishmen down from the mines to shake off a touch of fever, and
two Americans who were taking a phonograph through Central America.
Their names were Edward Morse and Charles Brackett, and we will always
remember them as the only Americans we met who were taking money out of
Central America and not bringing it there to lose it.
Every afternoon we all tramped a mile or two up the beach in the hot
sun for the sake of a quarter of an hour of surf-bathing, which was
delightful in itself, and which was rendered especially interesting by
our having to share the surf with large man-eating sharks. When they
came, which they were sure to do ten minutes after we had arrived, we
generally gave them our share.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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