Another Walk on the Wild Side

On Sunday night, I lost my watch. I remember looking at it in the taxi on the way home from the bus station. It must have fallen off shortly thereafter. I'll never forget the last thing it ever said to me - 6:29 p.m..

I very rarely wear a watch, but this watch had some sentimental value to me because I wore it all through India a decade ago. I had been meaning to replace the band on the watch because it was tearing and I guess it finally tore through. So, not only was I a bit bummed out for sentimental reasons, but also because I lost it so lamely. I would have handled it better if a piranha tore it off my wrist with a bit of flesh while I was pulling Rebecca, Maya, and Jonah out of the jaws of an alligator with the other arm and paddling our canoe away from cannibals with my legs.

A few weeks ago I lost my cell phone in a taxi. I had just used it to call Rebecca and must have put it on the seat when I was done instead of in my pocket. The cell phone actually belonged to Carmen, our landlady. So, even though in the few weeks I had it, I hadn't quite figured out how to use it correctly and would now prefer that we not have a cell phone, it is necessary that we buy a new one.

Yesterday, in an effort to replace both these items, I went shopping while the kids were in school.

Our book describes the location of a black market where you can replace lost or stolen electronic items. In bygone days, I would have instinctively known where to find this market, and may even have been part of the fabric that held it together. But a wife, kids, mortgage and baldness paint only part of the picture of why today, I have no clue. Fortunately, I can still read a map, so I was able to locate the intersection of streets that the book describes.

The market is in the old town area, and is housed in a square, very nondescript, concrete building. I have not felt personally threatened at all since we arrived (possibly because I am usually asleep by 8 p.m.) but I do definitely notice that there is a sketchier element to some of the folks walking around the old town. So, it was appropriate and not surprising that this market is located there.

I noticed three mid-twenties guys standing at the entrance of the market as I entered. They definitely gave me a once-over. But I was wearing a pretty fancy Timberland button-down shirt, so they might have been noticing that.

As it turns out, entering the market was the most exciting thing about it. I didn't see any stolen items there, unless someone had the pants stolen off of them. It was more like a flea market, with vendors on each floor selling pants, shirts, shoes, toys, music and dvds, and more of the same. I found one stall selling watches. There was one watch that I liked and the price was right, but since it was the only watch I had seen that morning, I wanted to look around some more.

I went back out into the street and walked around a few corners. It's an odd thing, but the stores on any particular street all seem to sell the same thing. For example, one street might have stores selling only wedding dresses while the next has stores selling only pinatas. You can't find a store selling a pinata on the dress street. I wonder if this is a holdover from Colonial times. It's kind of quaint actually. Of course, the capitalist would move a drug store over a few blocks onto the souvenir shop street. Who wouldn't want a couple of aspirin with their sheepskin drum?

Of course, there is a street of stores that sell nothing but junk. Some of these stores had watches on display that looked like they might have been stolen, but none to my taste. I ended up walking into a Casio distribution center of some sort. Even though there were watches on display, none of the customers in the shop seemed to be shopping for a single watch for personal use. They were all poring over bags of watch bands, clasps, watch faces, etc. I think they brought these things for resale in the streets.

It's not unusual to see someone in the street here selling a random thing like a watchband. In fact, every time we walk through the old town I see this guy loaded down with shoelaces. He sells them. Next time I see him, I'll take a picture of him. It's kind of goofy to see a guy selling shoe laces in the steet, but actually, my boots need new laces.

A woman selling shoe laces in Old Town.

So, anyway, even though, no one was buying a watch for their wrist, when it came time for me to be serviced, no one was surprised when I asked to see a couple of the watches. I ended up buying a watch for $17 . In addition to time-telling, the watch also displays the date. That seemed to be a worthwhile feature to me. And since I was hoping to pay less than $20 for a stolen watch, I was happy to pay less than that for a new one.

By this time, my new watch told me that it was after 11 a.m., so I stopped for a juice. I hadn't seen any phones in my travels and I had to get the kids around 12.30. I decided to walk around the block another time to see if I missed the phones, and then head back down to the Ecovia.

As I walked, I saw a sign that seemed like it said phones. It didn't, but when I asked the people in the store if they knew where I could get a phone, they gave me what seemed to be a sly look, got out their own phone, and called someone. Now, I figured, I was onto something.

In a few minutes, a twenty-something with pierced facial parts and tattoos came in with a backpack. We chatted a few minutes about the type of phone I wanted, and he then motioned me to follow him. As we walked through the streets, I explained how I lost my phone, how Rebecca lost hers (pickpocketed on the Ecovia), and about her purse slashing. He kept giving me knowing looks and words of caution. I felt like we were into something clandestine.

After a few minutes walk, we turn a corner and go into a Porta store. Porta is the name of one of the cellular companies here. The guy worked there! It wasn't a clandestine meeting at all. He started showing me the different phones and different options on each like I was interested in buying a new phone. After a few minutes of feigning interest, I asked for some prices and confirmed that each phone was way more than I wanted to spend. I finally begged off with the fail-proof excuse that I'm just a guy and I need my wife to make a big purchase decision like this for me. That got me out of there.

As I headed back down to the Ecovia, feeling a little defeated, I noticed a shop with junk tumbling out of the store front. I decided to give it one last go. As I approached I noticed a lean, muscled guy with droopy red eyes sitting out front. I gave him a "Buenos dias" as I went into the store and he followed me in. I knew immediately that I had found the right place.

We chatted about general things as I looked at three or four scuffed, clearly used and most likely stolen phones. I could feel all my senses tingling. Life being breathed back into me. Instinctively, I had found a black market for phones. I didn't need any book to direct me. I still had it inside me. I almost wanted to go out and steal a phone so I could come back and sell it to this guy.

After a few minutes of looking at my options, I told the guy that I would come back the next day. I didn't tell him this, but I needed to talk things over with Rebecca to see what phone I should buy.