Walking home from school today along the Panamerican Highway, my friends and I heard a familiar tune. The nostalgic tinkle of the ice cream truck blared out behind us. We all perked up, half-expecting, half-hoping to see a white conversion van with technicolor apliqués depicting different frozen treats plastered on its side.
Instead, we saw a beat-up old gray (metal-colored) sedan with a megaphone attached to the top using rusty wires.
I don’t think that vehicle had air-conditioning; I wonder if if had ice cream?
Oh, Guatemala.
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