Hernan

He works at the local librería where one can not only buy basic school supplies, but the ever-necessary cospeles as well.

I've bought a few things there now, often for the crafts for the girls' institute. This means I usually enter with my other missionary half, Sarah. One can also send letters from this location, so we find it handy to become acquaintances. When we felt we had seen the jefe, or head honcho, enough times, we decided we could finally introduce ourselves.

"Me shamo Sah-rah," said the first (written phonetically). I followed with the typical, emphasized three syllable routine of Shuh-ray-uh (but I roll the R for good measure, even if it's not correct according to Spanish).

He smiled. "No.. Sarah es más facil. Sarah uno y Sarah dos!"

We laughed. No one else has to know that I acquiesce to a nickname, after all.

I like Hernan not only because he is patient with us, but he also always greets us with the equivalent of "Hello beautiful!" I begin to wonder if that's the reason Latin women are more comfortable in their curvy figures: they're always greeted with a kiss and called "mi amor" and "bella" everywhere they go!

We don't know very much about him as of yet. I've learned that he has a young boy, and I've noticed (not because I was trying to notice, mind you) the hair from his chest protruding from the top of his shirt. He's not greasy by any means. It's just something that caught my eye.