The contrast between where I am now and where I was yesterday is rather stark.
All of the following events have taken place within the past twenty-four hours.
None seem entirely modern.
As I wended my way up the steep, narrow cobblestone street to my hostel in Valparaíso, I saw an old man wending his way down. I thought he was just another passer-by, but he was a vendor from the central valley. “I have fresh cows’ milk cheese,” said he. The round, heavy cheese, and the burlap bag it came in, had that good country smell.
Today as I arrived in Atlanta, I saw Saddam Hussein hung on CNN.
In my own town, I had some difficulty getting home from the airport. All cabs were busy because it being the end of the month, people without cars were riding around in cabs to pay their bills in person.
A porter, however, informed me that if I spoke to the owners of the airport restaurant, they would have one of their family members drive me home for a small fee.