Some Random Thoughts re-Merida, Part 2

I´m sitting in my favorite cafe on the second floor overlooking the crowded street below. Needless to say, the parade of people is fascinating.

Yesterday, at this time, about 3 p.m., I gave in to temptation and decided to get some sort of pastry. All of the pastries look absolutely great. Unfortunately, as is common elsewhere in Latin America, they frequently take a great pastry and, in my opinion, ruin it by stuffing it with some sort of mystery meat and cheese, kind of like a Russian peroshkee. I figure if I want a ham and cheese sandwich, I´ll order a ham and cheese sandwich. But, if I want a nice sweet pastry, with cinnamon or fruit, or sugar icing, or whatever, then I don´t want it married to a ham sandwich.
Regrettably, the Venezuelans are also into those awful little candied fruits that one finds in fruitcake. What a shame to take a perfectly good pastry and stuff it with what looks like residue from last Christmas!

So, by the time I analyzed what was left, the pickings were a little slim. Front row center in the display case, was what looked like a rather large chocolate donut. I asked what it was called. I should have guessed. It carries the understandable traditional Spanish name of "DONA," pronounced doe-nuh. Well, if it LOOKS like a donut, and SOUNDS like a Frenchman´s pronunciation of donut, it must TASTE like a donut too, right?
When the delightful young waitress placed it on my table with a pronounced "thud," I began to have misgivings. I´ll swear it must have weighed in at close to a pound. Suffice it to say, I was raised in the old school of waste not, want not, and I was able, foolishly, to eat a whole half of it. Bottom line: I don´t think Krispy Kreme needs to worry that the market is going to be taken over by the Venezuelans sometime soon.

Waddling out of the cafe, I saw an interesting sight. There was one of those huge American station wagons from the 1960´s parked at the curb. It was painted orangy yellow and on the side was written "School Transport." The back seat had been removed and a carpeted flat bed had been installed in the interior of the wagon. I could see 4 kids standing, sitting, or kneeling on the front passenger seat. There were an untold number of little kids inside the flatbed, laughing and carrying on. The driver was attempting to squeeze yet another kid through the back door. As the "school bus" pulled away, I noticed a very offical looking sign stenciled on the back side: "Maximum Capacity: 19 children."
As I walked to my Spanish class, I walked past several signs proclaiming: "The Other America...On the Move!" And so it is, safely or not.