Yesterday there was an almost full moon in the sky, while the sunset coloured the clouds and houses on the cerros pink. I went into an old version of a convenient store, the kind with walnuts in drawers which are scooped into brown paper-bags for the customers. But they did not have rye flour.
We finally manged our alliteration girls night out, we had tried for Margaritas Martes the day before, but the 21. of May is a holiday here, in remembrance of some battle, and the Mexican restaurant was closed. We went our for Chinese instead and had the most dodgy red wine I had ever smelled or tasted. Maybe some experimental home brew stretched with soy sauce? It did taste like soy sauce! My two crazy flatmates ended up writing a song about a koalas bottom, a result of a joke I told (why did the first koala fall out of the tree?) but apparently not the wine, they do these kind of things all the time.
Yesterday we finally went for Margarita Miercoles (at least still an alliteration, I do live with two authors, after all) and this time no songs were written, but we visited the communist? bookstore next door. I avoided political discussions by blending into the couch with a guitar. They have a mural of Chávez on the storefront, so it was either that or being impolite. No indoctrination for me this time.