Temples and Tablets: the Eyes of the Jaguar

38+ THIRTY-EIGHT +38

Ultimately you decide not to taint your holier-than-thou brilliant and splendid reputation as a magnanimous people lover by associating yourself with the pile of capybara dung that is the Spanish team.

Hence you tell the kid, with a large amount of satisfaction too, that those people over there are definitely not your friends.

You even enlighten him that, in fact, they are a bunch of people who are unreasonably evil. For example, you heard from your brother's sister-in-law's secretary's husband's cousin-twice-removed, who once had a flight layover in Málaga and coincidentally saw him at an airport cafe eating a croissant, that the leader of that group, Gutiérrez, looks down on people who eat mayo with their fries.

The child clearly nods at you in understanding, he too knows that ketchup isn't always everyone's condiment of choice and that should not be judged by others. However, immediately after agreeing with you on this important matter, the child once again ignores your presence and starts shouting something that sounds like "François!" at a group of men across from you. You roll your eyes; someone clearly needs to teach this child some etiquette, it is not proper to end such a meaningful conversation in such an abrupt way.

The child's shouting catches the attention of a man with brushed back medium long blond hair and khaki pants, who at the sound of this French-name-sounding word glances over at you. The child gives him the thumbs down, prompting the man to smile at you. You awkwardly smile back and twiddle your thumbs wondering why smiling seems to be such a thing around here.

The man then waves one of his friends over and speaks to him in their native language. Of course, you try hard not to understand them because it is an indigenous language and not Québécois French, which you now remember you are fluent in after going on a three-year student exchange program in primary school.

"Arrête de ranger la drogue et sécure-la comme ma grand-maman à Québec elle ficelle la dinde pour Thanksgiving!" The man instructs, as five of his friends drop their bags of tapioca flour and start making their way over to the Spanish team, who is still shaking in their boots as they all crouch together on the aforementioned log.

You scratch your chin and watch as those same men kindly help the Spanish onto their feet with the use of very large indigenous cheese knives and start leading them off into the bushes. Oddly enough, one person though remains seated and you realize it's Gutiérrez who is refusing to get up. His resistant uprising is short though, as a native man quickly kicks him from behind and in a split second, Gutiérrez is face down in the mud. A few moments pass before your enemy struggles back onto his knees, coughing like he's dying of the plague. By chance your eyes meet, and Gutiérrez's mud-streaked pancake face is hit with instant recognition. His eyes bulge like a goldfish and he starts wildly beckoning at you to come over.

In that moment, someone places a hand on your shoulder and you involuntarily jump. It turns out to be the blond man who has suddenly appeared next to you and seems to want to coax you in the opposite direction. He laughs at your reaction and asks "T'es-tu ramassé un puck de hockey quand t'étais enfant?" before leading you towards a hut at the opposite side of camp.

An odd sense of danger overcomes you and you glance back at mud pancake face one last time. You start to wonder, what could Gutiérrez have possibly wanted from you?

In the end, you decide to go look for Gutiérrez later, but only if your feeling of impending doom doesn't subside in the next twenty minutes or so go to 46

*Capybara is a large indigenous rodent

*French translations: 1. 'Stop packing the drugs and tie them up like my grandmother in Quebec ties up the turkey for thanksgiving!' 2. 'Did you get hit in the head by a hockey puck when you were a child?'