El Papa

Maria, the dueña of the hotel, told me the news. When we returned from zip lining, we came into the kitchen/bar area, and she said, “tenemos papa.” Because just that morning I had forgotten the word for potatoes and had been kindly reminded by the staff that it is “papas,” I thought for a moment that she was telling me the good news that we would have potatoes again tonight. But she seemed oddly overly enthusiastic about potatoes. Finally, she said in English, a new pope. Oh, Papa, not papas.

Then she said, equally enthusiastically, he is from Argentina. The first time there is a pope from the Americas. She was very, very excited. She said how he appeared all in white, and the cross around his neck was made of wood. She said he has asked us to pray for Benedict, for the brave decision he has made to step down. I asked what name the new pope would take, and she said Francisco the First. The first. How appropriate. Reading the news in English now (now that I finally have an Internet connection), I see that he is being called in English “Francis.” I think I will try to think of him always as Francisco.