...that at the hostel in San Pedro, Iquisia, there was an ancient old man who had no hands. Both of his arms ended in nubs, and the first time I noticed this, he had a flyswatter taped to one of his nubs like a third world Inspector Gadget. I hypothesize, since I had no gall to ask, that he was either Roberto's (the owner) father or grandfather, as Roberto's mother also lived and worked in the hostel, along with Roberto's young daughter.
Roberto himself had a habit of always flashing a languid thumbs up every time you passed him; a gesture that bridges all language gaps.
Alvero, on Sunday morning as we were cooking breakfast, made a sandwich of ham, egg, and avocado. I commented on how delicious it looked and he smiled and told me it was a
"Championship breakfast."
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