Above the Spanish colonial streets filled with statues of Don Quixote, the roasted red potatoes reminded everyone of home—Germany, Estonia, United States, Guatemala, Switzerland. Together, we saw the New Year's sunset slide off the city's 7,000-foot hillsides. No one correctly guessed the Estonian word for chicken is kana or that Estonian verbs have no future tense. Fireworks on every slope spun our adrenaline and our eyes till near dawn, letting us forget the low odds of our brief encounters on the road owning any future beyond the shared flash of color and smoke.
Musical composition by Victor David Sandiego