Leaving the house this morning, "the trench" looked no different then it did last week when all this "whatever" started - one week tomorrow, matter of fact.
Left at 10:15, returned at 2:30PM. A HUGE pile of dirt in the middle of the street. The bulldozer driver was resting. Guess it was his lunch period. I backed up the street when I realized I better NOT get near the bulldozer but get closer to the corner with the Pathfinder.
Getting out of the car, it was not quite possible to see down by my house because of the curvature of the street. Walking down the sidewalk, I was so busy watching so I would not trip or something that I didn't look up until I got close to the house.
When what to my wondering eyes appeared a trench at least seven feet deep and two feet wide with NO access to my front entrance! Hmmmm.
I turned and started back up the hill trying to figure out how it would be possible to get to my door. The bulldozer driver was watching.
In the most perfect Spanish that I could muster, it was apparent from whatever I said, that I needed help.
Luckily the lady of the house next door to me and her son came out just about then. She just kept saying, "Oh Senora, cuidado" (be careful).
It didn't appear that there was any way to walk on the very narrow space between the building and the trench since it was strewn with boulders and rocks from the cobbled street.
The young man from next store took my arm and very, very slowly we made our way to my house. We moved at a snail's pace.
The bulldozer man watched the whole episode.
After thinking about it, and knowing that at 5PM I needed to leave the house again, it was necessary to communicate again with the bulldozer man about how the heck I was going to get over the trench to leave.
I told him I needed to leave. That I am an abuela (grandmother) and needed to go to the nietos (grandchildren). Then I gave him some cookies I got at the bakery today.
I'll never know if it was the Grammy thing or the cookies. Next thing I know, he had found a board. It was about 8 inches wide and 1 1/2 inches thick that was placed across the trench when I looked out the gate about thirty minutes later. It was a solution but not a very safe one. Beggars can't be choosers, however.
Again in my most pitiful Spanish, I let him know my age and that my knee was bad and it would be very dangerous for me to cross that board alone.
Lo and behold, when it was time for me to leave, there were two young men digging seven feet down. As I approached the board, one got on each side of me to hold my hand to cross the trench........the deep, deep hole without me even asking! Aaah.
Whew, okay then. That was navigated. Off I went to my appointment. The whole time I was gone my thoughts were on getting back in time for someone to help me BACK across the darn board before they left for the day.
Home I was in about an hour. It was inconceivable what my eyes saw. Totally. NO trench. NO dirt pile.
I mean NOTHING. It had all been filled in. It allowed me to walk right into my house. In ONE hour they had accomplished all that.
Shaking my head, I had to go out and photograph this. It was so amazing and surreal. It needed to be documented.
Here I was dreading jumping the trench or walking the plank. Instead I just walked into the gate like a normal person.
No words to describe my disbelief. I have been chuckling about this now for about thirty minutes.
Mexico continues to be a mystery and delight to me - even after all these years!