Witches’ Market

My card was restored to me, Grace was finally here, and all was well in the world.

After we ran Grace’s errands, we went to the Witches Market to see the infamous Llama fetuses. Grace really wanted to see shrunken heads, but there weren’t any. She said it wasn’t “witchy” enough for her. However, there were potions, figurines, and ingredients for spells. The alpaca sweaters were my favorite. So soft.

A group of female travelers from France were sitting down on the street with two local guys about our age who I will refer to as homie and dude, who were making woven and metal trinkets. We stopped to look at the art on the ground and got roped into a conversation with this eccentric group. While I was very excited to be speaking Spanish with the locals, and turn around to speak French with the travelers, there was a vibe here that I was not feeling. I asked homie if he could speak any other languages besides Spanish. He said he could speak Inca and proceeded to say something in the language. I was stoked, to say the least, and asked if I could record him.

“20 dollars.” He said.

I declined.

Homie then started a conversation about how unintelligent Americans are, and I was getting really irritated with his attitude. It had already been half an hour of conversing, and just when I was about to suggest we leave, Grace decided she wanted homie to put a woven dread in her hair. I had no problem with this, but I also didn’t realize this would take another hour. While Grace did this, I walked around the market some more and booked our Amazon trip. It was dark when I went back outside.

I walked back to see if Grace was done, and homie was still working.

*30 minutes later*

I was obviously very irritated now, and mostly because homie was not giving me very good vibes. He was acting snarky, and kept telling me to “calm myself.”

I really thought telling a woman to calm down was a universal concept, but I guess there was some kind of cultural or language barrier here.

He finally finished and Grace handed him the money.

He wanted 20 in American dollars apparently. I argued and said this was a lot, but Grace handed it over to him.

As we were leaving, Grace asked, “Where’s my phone?”

Game over mate.

We looked everywhere, but this phone was not to be found. We asked the travelers if they had seen it anywhere. They only shrugged and walked away. Not their problem.

Dude finally spoke up after about five minutes of frantic searching.

“Oh, my friend that came by earlier had something in his hand that I think was your phone.”

“Your friend?” I asked. “Where’s your friend?”

“Oh, actually he’s not my friend.”

“But you know him?”

“Yeah, I see him around these streets a lot. He sells drugs.”

Grace and I exchanged a mutual glance. “They stole it.”

Of course, we couldn’t be sure, but we did ask to search their pockets and bags.

All hope was pretty much lost.

“Where did you have the phone?” Homie asked.

“On the sidewalk next to me.” Grace shrugged, knowingly accepting her mistake.

Homie began to lecture her anyway on how she should be more careful and be aware of “the people of the street.”

Dude then asked us a question that proved his guilt.

“How much was the phone worth?”

“Um… mucho.” Grace answered him.

“Pero… How much?”

“Why does that matter?” I was getting pissed. “It’s a lot of money.”

“Listen, I’ll give you my Facebook, and if we see the guy who took it, we will message you.”


“You can stay here a bit longer to see if he comes back?” Homie suggested. Seeing as how it was about to be dark, and people were starting to close their shops, we played it safe and went back to the hostel, realizing on the way there… There wasn’t even anyone else who came by!

Grace was bummed out, of course, but I am very proud of how well she took it.

“Maybe I just wasn’t supposed to be focusing on the things back home on this trip. I need to focus on the beauty of this night. We’re in a different country, and I’m worried about the loss of a material object.” Her positive outlook was stunning.

We got back to the hostel in dire need of our cerveza gratis, and the rest of the night was spent dancing at the discoteca.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s

%d bloggers like this: