Page 476 - Microsoft Word - Belicena respaldo

When I passed through Fuerte Quemado, I could not avoid imagining that in such site
encamped Diego de Rojas four centuries ago, when he marched chasing Lito de Tharsis. He not
achieved to localize the Pucará de Tharsy, even if he remained in Tafí del Valle for months. But,
would I make it? I believed so; that the indications of Belicena Villca were very precise and I’d
achieve to reach until the Chacra; and that I’d meet with the Indian Segundo, the offbeat
descendant of the People of the Moon. And the optimism didn’t abandon me when I arrived to
Santa María.

When I crossed the bridge over the River Santa María, I watched the clock: 7:30 in the
afternoon. I had delayed five hours from Cafayate and dusk was falling. Even for my impatience
to reach as soon as possible to the house of Uncle Kurt, I had decided to wait the night to
comply with the promises that I made to my Mother in regard to the prudency and security.

I stopped the car in front of other house of regional articles to acquire the famous
products of the zone: the cayenne, the arrope (concentrate grape), the raisins and the wine.

After that I paid I amused inquiring the vendor about the street Fray Mamerto Esquiú.
Thus I knew that it goes from East to West, ending in the River Santa María, which is one of the
peripheral limits of the city and it goes from North to South.

–The number 95 –I thought– must be nearby the River, perhaps in the last square.

–Are you looking for someone in the street Esquiú?

Maybe I can help you –surprised me the salesman with his question. Oh, the small-town
curiosity! But I did not let me impress.

–Yes, I’m looking for a pocho’s saleswoman –I lied–. In Salta gave me the approximate
address because they didn’t remember with exactitude.

–A poncho’s saleswoman in the street Esquiú? Mmm… No, unfortunately I do not know
any poncho’s saleswoman who lives in the street Esquiú… But, tell me, What type of ponchos
are you searching? I have a nice selection. And at good price…

A moment later I went out with my original purchase and with a poncho of Catamarca
with Inca guard.

I chose to have dinner a second-class restaurant but, according to what vendor of
regional products said, prepared the best rabbit stew of the valley Yocavil. Once I positioned
myself in a secluded table, I realized about the right election, because this was a place very
visited by salesmen and travellers of commerce in which to one surprised the presence of a
stranger.

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