72 ALBACORA 



"What?" 



"Don't ask me what," Jo said. "I'm only telling you 

 what the marquee says." 



"Of course," I said, "I've got it. I know what that 

 title means." 



"Is it an American picture?" Jo asked. 



"Sure," I said. "Don't you catch on? That must be 

 Lost Weekend'^ It was! 



From the balcony the center of Iquique lay before 

 me and the prado — the little park which is the romantic 

 center of every Latin city — was directly below. It was 

 the only bit of green in all Iquique. Beyond, the box- 

 like houses, bleak and naked to the eye, were depressing 

 to see. But in the middle of the drabness and decay two 

 houses close together stood out clearly. One was painted 

 bright blue and the other was done in shocking pink. 

 "Two floozies," I commented to Jo. "I wonder why only 

 those two houses are painted?" After checking into 

 local customs, Jo returned with a full explanation. 



"May 21," she said, "is the big holiday in Chile. 

 It commemorates a big sea battle between Peru and 

 Chile. This year the government threatened to fine any- 

 one who didn't paint his house in recognition of the 

 day. But it didn't work. It's more expensive to paint a 

 house than pay the fine, so most people paid and passed 

 up the painting. The men who live in the blue and pink 

 houses had the money to paint and were so damn proud 

 of it, they wanted to make sure everybody knew." 



