Milk truck 1, Casa 0

About three weeks ago we were in a nearby town when I got a phone call from Yoli. Calls that start with "I'm standing in front of your house" don't bode well. She told me a milk delivery truck had managed to crash into the front of our house, damaging the balcony and railing and 6 sections of cantera (the hand carved stone door trim). Oops. Fortunately there was no real structural damage to the house.

We rushed back with images of major costs for repairs and other not so great scenarios. We learned that our sweet neighbor, whose husband had actually done the original work on the cantera, had been on her roof hanging laundry and witnessed the crash. She knew Yoli was my friend and rushed down the block to get her. Fortunately Yoli was home.

Thanks to Yoli's diplomacy, the honesty of the truck driver and the kindness of a neighbor, within days we were talking to an insurance agent for the milk company and two days ago a team showed up to do a professional repair job. They even repainted the entire balcony railing while they were at it.

This makes me realize two things: that I live in a real neighborhood where people care for each other. We walk here every day and are about the only gringos on the street. Others who live here, if we do see them. are in their cars. Maria Louisa, who saw the accident, has come to our house numerous times to review her English homework and we greet her, and everyone else in the bario, with every opportunity. We feel so fortunate to have chosen such a special neighborhood.

Secondly, horror stories circulate with too much enthusiasm among the foreign community about run-ins with this or that accident or lawyer or neighbor and I realize that we can't rush to assume anything. We are fortunate to have the opportunity to live in this country.