Get in the Trunk

So for over a year and a half now, I haven't played the piano.  I had my great aunt's piano for years but gave it away when I knew for sure I was moving overseas.  It was hard going home and not having something to play.  I took lessons all growing up and though I never played a lot in public, I greatly missed playing.  For anyone who plays music or sings or has a learned skill, you know that it can be a great stress reliever.  I tried to find somewhere around town I could play, but all I could find were public restaurants (no need for more starring) or music shops that charged around $30 an hour to practice in private.  
So the other day, I guess I had just had enough.  I had told myself that I wouldn't buy a keyboard because it's not the real thing.  It's like trading Coke or Pepsi.  And the really good ones were quite expensive.  So I just decided last Friday, that I would get up on Saturday and go buy a keyboard.  I knew of at least two music shops in town and in one I was certain I had seen some pretty decent keyboards.  So I went off on this venture and shopped around a bit finally saw a digital piano (a cross between a keyboard and the real thing) and decided to purchase it.  I will admit I had a bit of buyers remorse, but I thought, "hey I'll use it for another year or so, actually use my gifts and then sell it when I leave."  
  Getting purchases home is always fun here because well you don't have a car, I'm a girl and there are just certain limitations and you can only put so much in a cab or on a bus.  So when I negotiated the price, which I'm sure was the foreigner rip-off price, I also made sure that it was getting delivered as well.  "No problem, no problem," they said.  So the music shop owner and his friend began to take my new piano apart in two large pieces and then a couple of little pieces.  then they promptly walked the keyboard part across the street and loaded it into the passenger side of the owners Toyota Camry.  I watched, a bit nervously as they slid it across the front and back seat.  So after carrying this across the street, they were both pretty spent and decided they need a smoke break because nothing refreshes you like a couple of lungs full or carbon dioxide or is it monoxide...oh well.  They loaded the second half of the piano into the car and the small pieces in the trunk.  Now here is where it gets interesting.  
You have to understand that in this country it is not unusual for you to ride with the delivery person back to your home.  Whether its a car, back of a truck, van, or three wheeled half-motorcycle/half truck thingy (Yes we have those...don't know what they are called).  Not only is it totally acceptable, it's expected and as far as the people go, it's safe.  Now the traffic/driving is another story as far as safety goes, but when in Rome......  So as they loaded my purchase up, I quickly told them I would take a cab and meet them at my home (just because it's acceptable to do something here still doesn't mean I'm comfortable with it).  No, no it just would do for me to take a cab, they would be more than happy to drive me.  Now the front and back passenger seat already had parts laying across it, and the trunk had a bit of stuff too, so it just really left the seat behind the driver.  So the driver says something to his friend that I didn't listen to(wasn't paying attention) and goes to the trunk.  He says something to me and points his hand to the inside of the trunk.  At this point you have to remember that I have enough language to get around, survive, and have 5 year old conversations, but I'm by no means fluent. In my mind at that moment I'm pretty sure he said, "put yourself in the trunk."  Meaning, you ride in my trunk.  I am flipping out now because I'm thinking, "no way."  I'm not getting in that trunk, I mean I've been trained for this but this goes beyond what I'm comfortable with.  
What seems like a full five minutes goes by with this guy still telling me to get in the trunk and me conversing and trying to explain to him I can't(it was actually probably no more than a minute, but it seemed like forever).  Finally I got what he was actually saying.  He didn't want me to get in the trunk, he wanted me to put my backpack in the trunk.  

That's my life!  And please don't ask me how I confused the two because the two words for "you" and "backpack" are nothing alike.  

Beautiful Feet...really glad those feet weren't in a trunk!

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