ALBACORA 205 



chickens were wandering about. A giant turtle made his 

 way among them. On the grass, too, lay countless little 

 boats, almost like kayaks, the "bongos." I walked 

 quickly to another side of the house and found the 

 jungle, growing close behind frail little houses on stilts 

 — all with thatched roofs. These were the homes of the 

 Indians who worked on the coffee plantations. The In- 

 dian women wore bright skirts and chattered, but most 

 of the people outside the houses were men, somber and 

 solemn in drab slacks and shirts. These Indians seemed 

 to be short. I studied several faces. Their skin was 

 brownish, but beneath thick growths of hair that hid 

 their foreheads the features were narrow and sensitive. 



I took a shower. It was cold because this romantic 

 hacienda was without such practical items as boilers. 

 The icy water loosened the vise that held my head, 

 and, feeling much better, I wandered downstairs. The 

 house seemed to have neither windows nor screens, and 

 all of its beams were exposed. 



"Maybe," I said to Lou who was sitting in the sun, 

 "this is a palace here, but it could use a few conven- 

 iences." 



"I thought the same thing," Lou said, "but as it is, 

 bare beams exposed and all, it ran to more than $20,- 

 000 to build." 



"Back home it wouldn't cost more than $2,000," I 

 said. 



"Well," Lou said, "certainly you could build it for 

 about $5,000. But you have to remember the way we 



