Std Bank lost my money.

On a small excursion to Alpine I go to the ATM to draw some cash.  This is a good idea since I don't have none on me and feel kind of nekkid.  Soon however I feel more like a poepol because the only ATM in town happens to be a drive through and so I'm standing in line whilst everyone else are sitting in their big ole 4x4's.  And then there's me standing, like a poepol.  When I finally get to the front of the qeue with 5 gynormous cars waiting behind me I'm told by the machine that I don't have enough funds available to draw cash, but, you know, thanks for asking.  I swallow my tongue, then regurgitate it, then swallow it again.  Ouch.  If I wasn't staying with Vickee and had booked into a motel instead I would be sooo screwed right now.  I wouldn't have had anywhere to go.  I would be a lost little sheep in Texas.

Back in Marfa I go online to check my balance.  No wonder I couldn't draw money, according to Substandard Bank I have $73 left in my account.  $73!! I call The Parents.  The Parents call The Bank who eventually realise that they've made The Mistake.  And they're... sorry.  Well, let me tell you something Mister.  Mistakes aren't that funny when you're a 20 hour flight away from home and stuck in a town with no cellphone reception or funds.  I'm sooo over them. 

The Parents come to the rescue though, kicking some solid banking ass.  They are like superhero people.  Within a couple of hours most of my missing money has magically reappeared in my account, but SBank is still looking for some of it and my poor mother has to go to customer services tomorrow to figure out what the hell is happening there.    

Anyhoozle.  It's over now.  Moving right along:

South Africans!  They're everywhere.  Even in Marfa.

Vickee takes me out to lunch at the local Mexican restaurant and introduces me to all the staff and locals passing by.  "You know, your accent sounds just like that other one's... What's her name again?  That South African girlie..."  says Carmen the manager. 
"What?!" I say spitting food onto her wall.  "South African?  In Marfa??"
"Oh hell yeh," she says, chewing gum.  "Her and her husband run a gallery... somewhere in town..."
"Ain't they them folk in... San Antonio Street?" calls a balding man two tables down. 
"Well what dya know.  You're raht Harley.  That's them in San Antonio Street," says Carmen as she turns around to get our plates and slide them onto the table.  Vickee and I eat enchiladas with refried beans, rice, salad, lotsa cheese and each down about a litre of Coke after which I take a stroll down to the gallery in question.

Leana Clifton is indeed a South African, she's even Afrikaans.  She's been living in the States with her husband since 1994 and in Marfa since 2007.  She's an amazing artist and photographer, and strange as it may sound, meeting her is one of the most surreal moments of my travels.  South Africans, living in Marfa.

Here are some of her artworks.  The bad photograpy on my part is unfortunate:

For more about Leana's work you can visit www.leanaclifton.com