My own little corner of the world...

One last adventure for my first Saturday - eating out.

I finally braved dining in a locale other than my family's house or school. Caitlin, one of my new buddies from school, is in Guatemala by way of the west coast of the US. She told me I had to go check out this cafe she'd found. "It's just like the independent coffee shops you'd find in Portland or Seattle," she explained. We've been getting together some weekday afternoons to practice our speaking skills, so we made a date for Saturday afternoon at el Cuartito.

She was spot on. It is uncannily like walking into a Portland coffee-house, complete with chalk-board paint painted walls in the bathrooms. Caitlin pointed out the hanging lamps which are found-art pieces using old beer bottles and incandescant light bulbs. The walls are covered in local artists' pieces, both murals and work for sale. There are doors that open up in the back room and look out on a little courtyard, I expect in the dry season they put seats and tables out there. In the evenings they place candles in empty wine bottles for extra light on all of the tables. Last night this was where we watched the game on their projection screen that is normally used to show movies. They also feature live local music most nights and serve a wicked mojito.

Obviously popular with the backpacking and student crowd, Caitlin and I ran into another of our classmates and some aussies I'd met earlier in the week at a dinner party on Tuesday. The best part? A cup of locally sourced, organically grown fair-trade coffee or hot chocolate is Q14-Q20 (~$2-$2.50) and they have free internet for customers. I think I've found my new favorite study spot. Caitlin and I chatted for a couple hours about our adventures from exploring the city that morning, and sharing all of our earthquake stories (she had been up trying to make the bus for the volcano hike and hadn't felt the earthquake at all, and was rather bummed about this as she always seems to miss earthquakes. Incidentally she also missed the bus for the hike). As we settled down into online activities (She needed to catch up with home and I needed to listen to a couple of pathophysiology lectures) a second round of afternoon rain came through, turning the courtyard into a mini lake for a half hour or so. Watching the heavy rain drops pitter-patter-plop on the cobblestones, I could have sworn I was in Portland, or Cambridge.

The owner is clearly a US ex-pat, flowing back and forth between chatting in spanish and english. In the evening, our group showed up early for the game to order dinner, and I was reassured when I asked how their fresh veggies were prepared - washed in filtered/bottled water (agua pura) with disinfectant. I ordered the tomato sopa (soup) and brochetta, which were delicious, and to date have not given me any grief.

Our group was large and kept the staff busy with drink and food requests. I had run home to drop my bag and computer off so my seat at the fringe of the group afforded me snippets of conversation with the owner. Most of their dishes were served with ground salt, pepper, and chile on the side held in these teeny tiny glazed pots - they looked like they were meant for a child's dollhouse. I asked where they had found them and she said they are sold at one of the local markets, that they are especially for serving spices in this manner, and thank you for not stealing them like most people. I had to laugh because the thought had actually crossed my mind. They reminded me of the tiny salt and pepper shakers my brother and I fell in love with the one time our family plane tickets got bumped to first class (this was back when they still served real meals on planes - in first class you got real silverware and real - tiny - salt and pepper shakers). Our mom, unfazed, had stuffed corners torn from her napkin under the shaker lids to keep them from spilling, and popped them into her purse. I'd be more apt to condemn her actions if I hadn't since paid that airline hundreds of times the shakers' value in baggage fees.

Anyway, I figured the little spice pots must get nicked all the time; they're just the cutest darn things. Besides, I wouldn't be living up to my family's traveling traditions if I didn't find some local item to obsessively spend the rest of my time combing local vendors for. :)

I finally got around to asking the owner where she hailed from. Olympia, Washington she replied. I feigned my surprise, but not my delight.