Someone outside the post office thought I would be interested in this party. I think because I am white? 10pm to 6am, baby–and Mario will be there?
Also there seemed to be a memorial service happening inside the post office, which threw me at first. I was like ‘my high school Spanish teacher would be ashamed I didn’t remember, but I looked up the word for post office in the Rough Guide, and I know correo is it.’
Have been shopping because I just can’t help myself: pens from a stall on the Prado, travel Kleenex from an old man standing on the sidewalk selling nothing else, and llama shaped bottle openers and a silver ring on “gringo alley.”
I fly to Cochabamba in just a few hours. The adventure continues.