Just before leaving town, we stopped to visit Hermana Juana and her daughter. They did not remember me by name, but they did remember a funny experience that we shared.
During the new year in San Bartolo, the four missionaries from my district went to Juana's house for a holiday dinner. They made giant tamales made from pig lard and packed in banana leaves. One tamal by itself is a complete meal on its own, but every time we finished one, the family would insist that we eat another. We each tried to get out of eating any more, but the family was very insistent. In the end, we had each eaten four or five tamales.
Just after midnight, we walked back to our apartment in the LDS chapel. The walk was only three or four blocks, but about half way, we all felt the tamales at the same time. You just can't eat that much pig lard in one sitting without feeling the effects. We all started running to get to the bathrooms in the church. There were only two bathrooms, but four missionaries who desperately needed to relieve themselves of some tamales. I arrived first and locked myself in the bathroom. My poor companion sat outside and pounded on the door. "Compa," he pleaded, "Hurry!"
"But I'm not done," I said.
"I don't care. Cut it off in the middle and come back later," he demanded. He was almost crying.
As I recounted the story to Hermana Juana, she just sat there and laughed. She said, "Oh, I do remember that. I think we did that on purpose." She covered her mouth with embarrassment, but also with a subtle sense of delight.