Saturday December 18, 2010 - On my way to  school I thought again of the lady who told me that perhaps the little men with the open carts selling fruit on street corners might know the language or understand what I'm saying. Right at the corner of Avenue Bach I found a young man with his cart selling fruit, I approached him and he smiled kindly and said hello, "Hello, good morning" I do not remember when was the last time a salesman greeted me in such a kind and sincere tone, I told the sentence, and he said he did not understand anything, I asked if he spoke another language, and he said yes but he did not understand what I said, he asked me to repeat it, I repeated, and he said no, I said I was looking for someone who understood what I was saying… I asked him what language he spoke, and he said… Nahuatl!! hahaha the last thing I wanted was him speaking Nahuatl. I I asked if it sounded to him like a specific language, and he said he had no doubt it was a language from Michoacán.

"Are you sure, Michoacán?"

he nodded full of conviction: "Yes. It is the language spoken in Michoacán."

"¿Could I take a picture of you?"

"Yes. What for? Sorry…"

And he apologized as if it was wrong to ask me what the picture was for. I told him it was just to keep track of what I was doing. It was a pleasure to talk to him, so honest and respectful. We smiled to each other and then I left.


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