June 17, 2004 - still later that afternoon

I missed the library because the entrance is unmarked and under the same roof as the , a small open door in the huge white face, like a mouth missing a front tooth. And though the front of the building is massive, the interior, at least what the public is allowed into, is the size of some dining rooms I’ve been in. At one end of the room there is a huge table with carved wooden legs.
 
Dozens of volumes are scattered on it. I don’t know if they’re waiting for cataloging, or a place on the shelves, but the whole place has the disheveled look of my daughter’s room. There is a spare collection of English language books, but they don’t seem to be grouped in any way. And those books that do have labels on the spine seem to employ a kind of hybrid Dewey, one that I am unfamiliar with. It’s almost like Dewey meets LC. I scribbled down a few of the call numbers and titles then promptly lost the paper I wrote them on. I still haven’t found it.
 
Introducing myself to the two people sitting in the place, I say I’m a librarian from the states who’s come to help in Duenas. This gets approving murmurs and then, because I feel like an idiot, I smile and stroll out into the overheated afternoon in search of an Internet “café.” Here’s the thing: it’s not hard to find one because there are three or four on every block and the question becomes more finding the best deal. It’s weird: the government doesn’t have enough money to put in a drainage pipe in townsbut they have enough to wire up the touristy towns like Antigua.  Settling on one that’s close to the bus stop, I walk into what appears to be a stationary store, following the signs to the rear and to a space the size of a large closet. Probably it was a closet. It’s about as dark as one, except for the other-worldly glow of computer terminals. There are about six of them, one of which is free if you can wedge yourself into the corner, which I manage. The rest seem to be occupied by pre-pubescent (and not so pubescent) boys playing games. I’m reassured to know that around the world there are kids doing this (in fact, I’m happy to report to you that one of LC’s subject headings is “Geeks (Computer enthusiasts).” (entered in 2000)). But they jab with their elbows and yell in raucous Spanish and somehow I feel that I’ve been plunked back to Miami without my permission. Quickly checking my mail,  I pay my Quetzales and head back to the bus and to Panorama.