Hers is a full-time, self-appointed position.
I spent the weekend in one of his Casares venues: Hotel El Casino. I failed to ask Patrice why he named his hotel after a casino, when there isn't one in sight. Anyways. It was during a chat with Patrice that I met the woman who keeps the streets in order.
She approached his patio and merely stuck her palm out to him. Patrice handed the woman, clad in a pink tie-dye tank top, a handful of cordobas.
"It's a tip," he explained.
The woman's salary consists of tips from local business owners.
I spotted her again, rake and dustpan in hand, the next day. She held a cell phone to her ear as she walked along the beach.
"She's always talking into that phone," Patrice commented. "When she doesn't have that mobile phone she'll talk into a piece of wood or whatever else she has on hand."
"I was chatting to her one day, and made a comment about her always talking on the phone. Her phone number is 9-8, she said"
"I told her I would give her a call," he said with a small smile. The woman's back was to us now, the sun beginning to set over the Pacific.