the park

Seated in the parque central, I observe all that is passing around, gathering thoughts, sights, visions, expressions of a new country. The plaza is surrounded by cobbled streets and arches buildings, a cathedral, ochre and mustard colored buildings, housing fancy shops the likes of which were unimagined when the buildings were originally constructed. The center of the park is the fuente las sirenas, the mermaid fountain, so named for the fours mermaids holding their breasts that adorn the column at the fountain’s center.
The benches around the park are bathed in warm sunlight from the crystal blue sky, which feels close enough to touch, like a physical presence permeating the atmosphere. Circling the plaza is a man relating the gospel at the top of his lungs, pausing from his reclamation of sinners and glorification of God only when a passerby hands him a quetzal for his effort. Tourists and locals alike sit on the benches, take photos, neck in broad daylight, enjoying this central place for people watching, eating lunch, passing hours.
Soon, I am approached by a small girl selling credit card sized calendars for 2006. Her name is Juana, she is 7 years old, and works selling these cards, as do her two brothers, while their father sells ice cream on the corner. She wears a woven skirt, typical indigenous dress. She shows me her broken shoes, explaining that a friend is buying her another pair. Quickly, she becomes interested in the postcards that I am writing, then turning her attention to my pen. We spend a while drawing on her hand, first a boot, then a sun, she erasing them with saliva when bored with each. She runs away, and quickly returns, leaning against my legs, as if we have known each other forever.
In the few hours that I have been walking around the city, I have been approached by all kinds of vendors, caulking their wares from textiles to necklaces. I have met Berta, Martinsa, Sandra, María. We joke, they convince me to buy things I mean not to. The interactions are enjoyable and genuine, and I remember the gift it is to be here connecting with all manner of people I would otherwise never meet.