The morning sun turned my baby's cheeks red as we ran errands in town.
Though it wasn't hot, the sun at 8,000 feet is stronger than the near
sea-level Albany sun, and our comparatively light skins quickly turn
pink under its rays. The altitude toasts our skin and works our lungs. Feeling the children's oxygen-deprived bodies dragging behind me, I
offered to take a break for a snack, activia yogurt drink--delicious and
helpful at curbing pesky bouts of travelers diarrhea.
We sat on a shaded curb as I opened their drinks. Finishing and excited
to get to my snack, I looked up only to see two pre-teen Nahualense
girls, arm-in-arm wide-eyed and staring. That, however, is not the
unusual part of the encounter. We are accustomed to being stared at. In
most cases, my children are the first white children people here have
ever seen outside of a tv show.
No, the wide-eyed looks were not bothersome. What was bothersome was
that they were only a foot away from us and that they stood there for a
good five minutes while I chatted with a friend. They were so close that
I wished I had bought gum too at the Tienda Tambriz.
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