Random Bridge Encounters

Everyday I cross this ridiculous puente to and from my barrio. It is probably one of the scariest bridges out there. However, I have gotten to know how to master walking across it; it takes finesse and it´s trickier than you might think. Mostly because I am double the size of the the people that normally cross this, so my feet have to avoid the various gaping holes and loose boards.

Besides the scare factor, I have also come to realize this bridge is the site of many interesting stories for me.

First off, the bridge to Gran Colombia (where all the ¨colombians¨live, and as people say this they do the sign of the cross like it´s a dangerous thing), is big enough for two people, or one and a half gringoes. This morning I realized the only time I´ve actually been in a ¨traffic jam¨ is on this bridge. For example, I was stuck behind an old man wearing a piece of plastic (it was raining pretty hard) and couldn´t quite pass him and his bale of plants on his back. I chuckled to myself as I realized how minor this ¨traffic jam¨is compared to those in DC!

Second of all, I get all sorts of looks when I cross the puente. Just the other day, two guys were sitting and talking and as I approached I literally heard them go ¨Shhh!¨and stopped mid-sentence as I walked by. Seriously....you guys didn´t have to stop talking just for lil´ ol´me!

This last ejemplo is probably my favorite. The bridge is where I, you probably guessed it, get all of my chicos. On Sunday, I came back from a long trip and was schleping a lot of stuff. I noticed the dutiful police (using those words in the lightest sense possible) were ¨checking me out¨slash following me. I continued to walk and then they creepily pulled up next to me and asked me where I was going. Well, seeing it´s 10 o´clock on a Sunday night and I have about 2 weeks worth of laundry, a med kit, and a sleeping bag in my hands-I was thinking the disco! SYKE! Home, I said, to the bridge. They offered a ride, so I figured why not...they´re policemen and behave themselves, right? Oy vey.

We´re driving to the bridge, which should have taken 5 minutes but took 15 because he was so slow. All the while, the one who is driving is telling me how beautiful I am, that I am the prettiest girl ever---riiiighhhttt. Finally, the bridge appears. But no, Mr. Policia wants my number. I was like, aren´t you supposed to be protecting the city or something...he just laughed. Very reassuring. I start to leave and he whines ¨Regalame un beso¨(Lit: Gift me a kiss). I was like whoops, sorry gotta go, the bridge is calling...

Oh and this is the spot where I am always greeted by the town drunk and president, (any correlation?) Washington. He´s a swell guy with a lot of gusto. He knows everyone and so I think it´s a good thing I´m on his side, however I need to watch out when he gets really drunk and wants to talk my ear off. He owns Playa Rica, this awesome ¨beach bar¨that is on the river. Real tranquil spot with a great view of Rio Zamora.