Tuesday, May 17, 2016

Fragment of the novel "Palms and Ombues"

ARCO ORLO.

      The bus was quickly down the highway linking Montevideo to Tacuarembó department. We were in the summer and the heat and the smell of sweat were sweltering. Passengers dozed or bored watching the landscape that passed on both sides of the road. I also watched the picture to my left, lined by green pastures and wool sheeps and cows. Occasionally the monotony was broken by a yellowish ceibo under which the cows took shelter from the burning sun.

       Iñaqui Echevarria slept beside me with loud snoring. We agreed not to sleep during the trip so that your snoring cursed not disturb the other passengers. But No. With his long legs and neck stretched seemed a steam locomotive damaged. They say that snoring during sleep is that is at peace with himself and has the spirit sedate. I for one do not usually sleep during any trip either by bus, train or aircraft long flight. It must be that my damned spirits are always restless and those of Iñaqui enjoy the peace of the Lord. I know him well and is not so: it has a thousand demons that haunt him.
The bus stopped frequently by stray cattle grazing along the path where the grass was taller and fresh. You could tell that a rainstorm had swept the area, puddles and bright pasture
    After nearly five hours of travel, which was the time stipulated by Iñaqui, I was surprised to see my left a not very high hill. White, by the stone and the sun was rising on a hill. I remembered a thick cock beheaded.
   __ We are already reaching Tacuarembó__ Iñaqui said after waking up for my elbow that strikes him. He looked around and saw the imposing hill.
   Finally. I said to myself, after five hours with numb ass on that trip that passed me by the balls.
  We arrived at the terminal of the provincial capital city. Iñaqui first thing he did was look for the cafeteria. It was his favorite vice: food. The other was sex. We ordered half giant moons with ham, cheese and butter, watered by coke. And appetite sated, we devote ourselves to find a hotel or an inn (the latter was the favorite of Iñaqui by lower costs)

   A few blocks from the terminal, asking, they indicated one. Small and with an awning on the outside where an old man sat in bermudas graying taking the cool of the evening. He was the owner. It turned out that there was no longer quotas. The next day there would be a close event. Villa Ancina, a town about 50 kilometers from Tacuarembó the feast of Our Lady of Itati be held. Reason that everything was full.

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