Wednesday, December 14, 2011

I am already hated and it has only been a mere 3 hours

December 12, 2011:  Right after arriving in the beautiful colonial town of Perinopolis, I grabbed my camera and went out to explore.  As I approached the outskirts of town, I noticed that the yellow brick road was transforming into a questionable looking path as it was consumed by the forest of the unknown.  With plenty of time to explore this part of town tomorrow, I chose to turn around. 

The dogs I passed earlier who gave me a little backtalk decided to be more difficult upon my return.   Walking past them I looked straight ahead, trying not to look at them while attempting to ignore their growls and savaged barks.  Coming at me quickly with their full set of exposed teeth –  I separated us with my camera bag as one came a mere few inches from sinking its teeth into my ankles.  I yelled “No – No – No” as I side stepped trying to get away, hoping that someone would call off their dogs. 
Leaving my camera bag on the ground between us gave me an extra second or two as I lunged to grab a farming tool, that I ironically remembered was there from the first time I passed the area.  About 5 feet long, this tool was transformed into an unofficial dog bat.  I now had the reach like Michael Jordan and a potential swing like Babe Ruth.  “Batters Up” I thought, as I was now the one in control of the situation…in which the dogs also knew. 

The dogs didn’t deserve a whack to the head, but it was my turn to put a little fear in them since I was at my breaking point with bad dogs.  Doing a check swing I went after one of the dogs as he peeled out, trying to get away.  Hiding between some loose farming equipment, I stuck the tool in between to fish him out - crying as if I hit him. 
A group of spectators from inside a nearby house wearing kung fu outfits, pleaded for me not to hurt the dog, looking at me as if I was the bad person.  I yelled at them to watch their dog in English not caring if they understood what I said.  Picking up my camera bag, I began to walk back up the street.

While walking away, a woman who must have just seen the end of the drama that took place approached me speaking so fast that I could not translate very well.  She was clearly not happy with me telling me to go back to my country while doing this jester, making two V’s with her fingers and smacking them together (later researching this jester, comfirming my thoughts that it was an insult).  I apologized and tried to explain what happened in Spanish, but I am assuming that she only saw me cornering the dog and heard the dog’s cry. 
The whole time walking back, I can see how living in a small town could be a small problem.  I am already hated and it has only been a mere 3 hours. 

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