This place is more second world than I expected, with graffiti on every spare surface and tangled electrical lines and uneven roads and blaring horns. There are yellow signs warning of motorcycle riding purse snatchers - or women riding motorbikes. No one speaks English. No one knows for sure.
In our little old lady's apartment, the phone and Internet dont work - so that was a huge disappointment. Our key didn't work either - so we were prisoners in our own home (you need the key to get out too) until I banged on the building manager's door and spoke to his wife or daughter or sister about how I have a key but the key's no good and I need a new key and they should call this number for a key and something about a key. Between wild-eyed gestures and inane repetition, somehow it made sense and they gave us a working piece of metal. Venturing out to get food in flip-flops I slid all over the slick stones and nearly broke my neck.
More by packing oversight than anything else - we brought our Vitamix blender with us.
So at least there will be juice.
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