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intended to learn Spanish before he went to Uruguay, but going to Uruguay was always something that was going to happen in some indefinite future, a time before which he would certainly have plenty of time to learn a foreign language. But of course it had not worked out that way: here he was in Montevideo and he spoke not one word of Spanish. Well, maybe a word or two.
    He decided that it was too easy to get places. I really should not be in Montevideo so soon. It was better before planes. If I had had to take a boat to Uruguay, I could have learned Spanish on the boat. I would have taken a Spanish boat and spoken with the sailors. And learned a sort of crude but serviceable Spanish that would impress the natives for its authenticity.
    It was a problem, not speaking the language. He had hoped that people would speak English or French, of which he spoke a little, but they did not. At least not the ones he had come in contact with. Perhaps if he stayed at a more expensive hotel his chances of encountering English-speakers might increase, but he could not afford
to waste his money on extravagances. Hence the Hotel Egipt. It was really not such a bad hotel. Not having a window was a little weird. Actually there was a window, but when Omar drew the curtains aside he saw that it had been bricked over. If he spoke Spanish he could perhaps ask for a room with a window. Por favor, yo —what was want?— desiro ? uno cuarto con la window. Or maybe saying “I want” was rude. He should say “Can I have.” May I have. But in Spanish.
    Omar had been in Montevideo two days. Two days of eating all his meals at the little coffee shop—well, he supposed it wasn’t called a coffee shop in Spanish—beside the hotel. For breakfast he had huevos revueltos, and they were aptly named: they were revolting. The yolk and the white were only lackadaisically intermingled and strange things (maybe bits of mushrooms, which Omar hated) were chopped up and added to the eggs. He wanted to say “No things in the eggs: just eggs.” Sólo huevos . Did that mean only eggs or one egg? So he picked all the things out and ate only the eggs and hoped that if he did this often enough they might catch on and leave the things out. But when you picked all the things out there wasn’t really much egg. Just enough to hold the mess of things together. For lunch he had sopa de tortilla and cerveza . And for dinner he had arroz con pollo . And more cerveza . He kept going to the same place because he thought his chances of learning the language were better if he interacted with the same people repeatedly. The same waitress worked all three meals, so she had served him six times, but she did not speak. Could she be dumb? It would be his luck to frequent a restaurant with a dumb waitress.
    Two days had gone by, two nights at a hotel and six meals, and Omar had accomplished nothing. It was not that he had not tried. But he could do nothing until he got to Ochos Rios and no one seemed to know where that was or how to get there. Or at least that is what Omar assumed from his confusing visits to the bus and train station. He had shown his slip of paper with the address carefully
printed in block letters to ticket sellers and they had all shaken their heads and waved their hands dismissively. Could it be that it was a place impossible to get to? Could there be such a place? He had never been able to find it on a map, but he had assumed that was the fault of the maps he had consulted. He knew it existed because he had sent mail there; it had been received because it had been responded to. Perhaps he should write them a letter asking for directions. Of course, it would be much better if he just showed up; if he wrote them first they could tell him not to come, which they could not do if he was already there. They could tell him to go away but they could not tell him not to come. Of course, by refusing authorization they had already told