By morning, I've accepted my that my new simple life will be here in the village. I've got no local currency, so I'll build a log cabin, take a wife, and find a job on a cattle ranch. Then one day, maybe a year from now, I'll have enough money to take the boat or bus to a town with a cash machine. That's when I´ll make good my escape, back home to London and my beloved ales. For now, I'll go for a run. Vincent joins.
We go running in the morning heat. It's not so bad on the first leg, and I can keep up a good speed. On the return leg, the sun is punishing my already dehydrated body. The best part of my return leg becomes a walk. Even at half past nine in the morning, the village streets are deserted on account of the heat. After taking a little water, Vincent and I push it into a full-on Kickboxer-styled montage of push ups, angled from, or atop of the rustic wooden outdoor furniture, pull ups off the log beams that hold the roof, and headstand push-ups, balanced off old wooden walls. In a seven days, I'll be fit and will have learned Spanish. This will be fine.
At midday, Vincent tells me we've been called to report to the police station. Apparently, the police put out a village-wide APB for the two gringos, and little girl found Vincent. There's noone sat at the station, but as we're walking away, we're caught by a young woman, Deliah. She's a local that also wants to get out of town today. We tell her that if she can find a way, we'll gladly share the cost.
At three in the afternoon, there's no word from Delilah and we're reckoning it's too late for a ten hour drive today. Vincent takes what little money we have between us and goes looking for water. Half an hour later, he returns to the room. "
Pack your bags, I think we're getting out", he says. I don't want to expect to get out, but despite accepting my new life, if the going is good, then I´m going.
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