Dalama Adventures Tale of two corporate types ditching their jobs and traveling the world for 14 months... check out all photos, blogs & interesting tid bits at http://www.dalama.net

Our new mom is in her mid 40's and has three kids, two teenage daughters, and a son in University.  The house is pretty big, with two open courtyards in between what we believe to be 6 bedrooms.  We learn that the only shower with hot water has just broken, it's Sunday, and with the big feria "fair" going on, there's no one available to fix it.  There's an emergency back up shower outside with cold water.  The other bathroom, just off the outside area where the truck is parked, is for our use.  There's also a toilet inside the house, just off our new mom's bedroom, but it's primarily for her use.  We enter our new room, two single beds and a frosty window that doesn't open.  The four walls are made of mildewed cement, and the room is damp with humidity.  The bedspreads are alive with fleas hopping to and fro from the small chihuahua dog that must live in the bed when no others are there.  The kitchen is over ridden with dirty dishes and I don't think it's been cleaned in years.  Hot water in the kitchen doesn't exist, so washing dishes is not a very sterile process here.  The family is supposed to provide us with three meals a day, purified drinking water, and a hot shower.  When we arrived, they were all out of purified water and we were told that if we needed water to drink or brush our teeth with, then we would need to buy it out on the streets.  It's late, after an all day bus ride, and we are tired and grimy.  I brave the emergency shower for a five minute of slow drip cold water, and we semi-settle into our new dwellings, no wanting to unpack our bags for fear all of our belongings will be loaded with fleas.  Darrin and I exchange glances, but no words... it's going through both of our minds now, what have we done... will we survive 4 weeks here?   

Our house mom calls us to dinner and it's served up cold - a nasty greasy egg omelet (just an egg, no omelet fillings) and a scoop of refried beans and a piece of hard, stale bread.  Our house mom sits at the head of the long table with her cup of tea, us at the far end of the table and she starts rambling off in Spanish so fast I can't understand a word she says.  "Por favor, repita mas despacio," (please repeat much slower).  She laughs at me, and repeats herself, the same fast speed, but louder.  Perhaps I used the word for louder versus slower?  No, this is also what Americans typically do with foreigners when they try to communicate, so we completely understand the situation.  I look at her, clueless, and reply, "no comprendo."  

We go to bed hungry and wanting a big drink of water, but it's late on a Sunday night and the little shops are closed.  We wonder where the school is, and what we're supposed to do in the morning.  I think our house mom is allergic to maps.  I pull one out for the town, and ask if she could kindly show us where the school is located.  She quickly moves away from me saying "No, no," and shaking her head.   We retreat to our flea beds, shaking out the covers and quickly tucking ourselves in, so no flees can sneak under the covers, and set our watch alarm to be sure we're up early to not miss out on breakfast.