Carlitos Way

Carlitos is my tall, dark and handsome Chilean bartender. The second I met him and looked into his eyes I could tell that there was sadness deep inside of him. I am really into psychology and learning about people, asking questions to dig deeper into their psyche, and ultimately listening to what they have to share with me, I made it a goal to get to know Carlitos and learn as much about him as possible. My first official day at the hostel I spent 6 hours with him on the terrace bullshitting, practicing Spanish and answering Carlitos' questions about English and clarifying the stupid rules we have in our language. I began asking Carlos questions about his family and he seemed reluctant to answer and included few details which for me was a sign that a) Carlos has a familial history that makes him sad and b) it wasn't quite the time to dig deeper. I told him I could tell a lot about him just from looking into his eyes which I think initially he thought was bullshit, but I went on to prove him wrong. I looked into Carlos' dark passionate eyes and told him that I could feel that he had sisters. I was overcome with calmness and continued to read his energy. I told him that he had a close relationship with his mom and that the women in his life affect him greatly. I could truly see his deep love for his mom and I sensed that the situation was getting too intensely accurate for him and stopped. Carlos looked at me like he had seen a ghost and asked me if I was bullshitting him. I really wasn't- I guess i'm just a good people reader. It turns out that I could not have been more accurate in reading his feelings. I'm no psychic, I just read energy really well and Carlos is easy to read no matter how much he tries to hide his feelings. On another note, Carlos is a shitty bartender. One thing you must know is that until about a week ago, 5 guests was considered a busy night for the hostel. The months of January and February were very wet months, making tourism for the canyon here in Arequipa a not so desired place to visit. When Carlitos decided to take on this job, he saw it as something easy with few responsibilities, being able to goof off when he wanted. During his shift, if no one is in the bar, he'll spend his time smoking pot out on the terrace. Carlos likes to smoke a lot of pot which I am fine with, but when it comes to responsibilities in the bar, as his boss, I expect him to be somewhat more attentive, ensuring that no one is in the bar waiting for a beer- the main moneymaker of having a party hostel with a bar but Carlos just doesn't seem to make that his priority. Two nights ago after a semi-busy night in the bar, I sat out on the terrace with Carlos and finally attempted to dig deeper into his life story with an ultimate goal of learning as much about him as possible. I asked what Carlos studied in college, what kind of job he had after his studies and for how long. I asked about his sister and I could tell his emotion changed. He proceeded to tell me that he was extremely proud of his sister for graduating from college just 3 months ago and landing a very important job. I asked Carlos why he decided to travel and what kinds of things he hopes to get out of traveling. Like a lot of people who decide to go traveling, Carlos wants to find himself and learn who he is, where he's going in life, and figure out who he wants to be. He told me about the small town of just 50,000 people where he's from in Chile and that the reason he likes Arequipa is because it reminds him of home. With some resistance as he could tell where our conversation was going, Carlos told me that his mom lives alone in Chile and has raised two wonderful children, witnessing their accomplishments alone for the last nine years. And then it came out, like it had been boiling inside of him and he needed to express himself. Carlos' dad died 9 years ago. In spanish he told me 'he was the entire world.' The tears began rolling down my face. With more and more hesitance, Carlos said 'and his birthday is tomorrow.' I was officially borderline bawling. Carlitos' story was just another reminder of how lucky I am. I cried more and more as we sat in silence. It was now 3am and backpackers were waking up to leave for their 2 day hike into the Colca Canyon. I wiped the tears from my face and the snot from my nose as people came out onto the terrace with their backpacks. Carlos and I didn't say another word to each other. After he briefly chatted with the other Chilean preparing for his trek, Carlos stood up, went to his room, and didn't come back out. After I cried for another 5 minutes alone on the terrace, thinking about how much I love my family and how I can't wait to hug them and tell them in person, I decided to brush my teeth and head to bed to rest up for Saint Patrick's day in our bar the next day. For the Saint Patrick's Day fiesta I bought (all green) ribbon, balloons, face paint, nail polish, food coloring, gelatin for jello shots, and the best of them all; a neon green watch! Saturday afternoon I was invited to watch/play in a recreational futbol game. Because the only shoes I brought to Arequipa are flip flops and my waterproof hiking keen sandals, I opted to watch the cute and incredibly in shape 20 something year old latinos play futbol. There were 10 players and the teams were split up between Peruvians and the rest of the world which consisted of 2 Uruguayans, 1 Chilean, 1 Dutch, and 1 English who ultimately lost; 8-1. Everyone was either sleeping at the hostel, working there, or a friend of an employee I had fun shouting vulgar comments in spanish when fouls were made, goals were scored, and players collided practicing all the dirty vocabulary I have learned over the last almost 7 months. After almost an hour, the organizer of the league came by to let us know we had 5 more minutes to play until the next match began with 2 new teams. The cost to play is 50 Soles for 1 hour which is then divided amongst those playing so only 5 Soles per person (about $1.88). I went to lunch with the reception manager Kate from Quebec after the match to a Turkish restaurant that a friend back in Lima told me about. I had a kebab sandwich which is the equivalent of schwarma. It was  so delicious I wish it never ended. I also had a tall glass of chica morada which is a sweet purple corn drink. 'Back in the day' this was an alcoholic beverage made by Peruvian woman by chewing the corn and spitting the juicy saliva into a bucket. The enzymes in women's saliva causes a special fermentation process. Luckily in modern days in high occupancy modern cities, this method is not used anymore for sanitary reasons and it's not alcoholic either. Upon returning to the hostel after lunch with kate, I decorated the bar with the previously purchased supplies, painted my finger and toe nails, and made the jello shots. The polish and watch were personal purchases, otherwise I had a budget of 20 Soles for decorations and green supplies and the bargainer in me managed to not only stay under budget, but only spent 12.50! Holler! The afternoon shift was calm, as suspected and I planned my menu around what I could drop food coloring into. We had (again, all green) pisco sours, frozen lemonades with vodka, screw drivers, and I even managed to sneak drops of food coloring into the tinted beer bottles which were then poured into chilled beer mugs giving the consumer a pleasant green surprise! I ended up with green hands by the end of the night from all the dye! During Carlos' shift from 9-1am, he spent more time chatting up the hot American (hahaha not me) from Seattle, smoking outside, or playing pool than he was behind the busy bar. Kate, the reception manager ended up helping ME out while I worked for Carlos. I had to ask him on 3 occasions to please wash the piled up glasses int he sink so we didn't run out. I was constantly making laps around the bar and the 2 terraces on the first level collecting empty beer bottles and empty glasses. During some down time and after a tequila shot, Kate told me that we needed to do something about Carlos. She jumped straight to wanting to let him know we no longer need his services and that she would rather help fill in at the bar than have Carlos because he's 82% useless. I agreed to a certain extent, felt guilty for the next 3 hours, but was reminded every few minutes why he was not a good worker when I saw him playing pool while Kate and I served drinks during HIS shift. Then when Kate asked him to refill the beer in the fridge because we were running low and they needed 30 minutes to completely chill, Kate found him outside smoking pot. That was officially the last straw. I decided to let him finish the weekend and tell him on Monday. Carlos and I ended up going up to the roof to wind down after we finally closed the bar and kicked the outsiders out by 2:45am. Then we went at it again and starting talking about the deep stuff. I thanked Carlos for opening up and feeling comfortable to share with me. He then thanked me for indirectly encouraging him to express himself. Again, I started tearing up as I told him that he reminded me how we often times take the people for granted who we love the most. I love my family very much, each person in their own special way and I can't imagine if I had prematurely lost a member of my immediate family. Carlos lost his father decades too early which still haunts him. I don't know how his father died, and I don't feel comfortable asking at this point, but I strongly feel that Carlos needs to talk it out- it's the love of psychology in me that thinks it'll make him feel better- it always does. I stood up and asked Carlos for a hug and we held each other for probably two minutes. He told me not to cry to which I replied that I was sorry. I asked if crying women make him uncomfortable and sadly, he replied, 'no, i'm used to it' and then he began crying. We had such a special moment together- the kind of moments I live for. I took a hot shower washing the green paint from my face and slept really heavily. I don't think Carlos and I will ever look at each other the same, especially after I fire him.