“So Mayra, what do you think?” I ask as we sit on a the simple balcony of wooden planks looking out over the river.
“The stone is a star stone. But it is surrounded by a high wall and locked behind a gate. I want to stand beside it and look out over the valley, see the mountains behind, and the stone outlined against the sky. I want to see it under a starry sky at night, or shining in the light of the full moon.”
Pink crustaceans, as thick as my index finger, poke their eyes above the surface of a rich pink soup that fills a deep bowl on the table before us.
“And old Antonio was right about the tasty fish” adds Mayra , licking her fingers and placing another empty langoustine claw on the side.
We had found the restaurant by its blackboard on a corner of the square, with the options chalked up – Chupe de Camarones, Arroz con Camarones, Ceviche de Camarones, Camarones Fritos, Camarones Salteados – under a chalk drawn prawn.
I decided against asking for a steak.
http://lookatsouthamerica.com/2-first-contact/Continued at … 1a