July 1

by reganhale

Today I went into the city for the third time this weekend, and I believe that I am finally beginning to somewhat find my way around.  I have decided that getting lost is a good thing as every time I get lost I either learn something about navigation in the city or find something I had never seen before.  Or, at least that has been the case with the four times I have been lost(ish). Note: I have taken four trips to the city.

Friday began as a bit of a frustration.  I had been planning on biking “Death Road” (you should Google it, unless you are my father – then you may not want to) Saturday with Meggie, another volunteer, until she began to feel sick Friday morning.  As we were the only two people booked for the day, the company could not do the tour with me alone but still refused to give me my money back…ya di ya di ya. After this ordeal, I moved on to the next item on my itinerary, namely music instrument shopping.  I have this new fascination with the South American instrument called the charango.  I would say it is cousin to both the ukulele and mandolin.  I found a shop and had a nice conversation with the shopkeeper, Jonathan, who taught me a song or two. Though I did not come home with a charango, I feel like that day might be coming soon.

Saturday I returned, not to the shop, but to the city.  I went in the hopes of finding a place to buy knitting supplies to start a project for the waiting I seem to be doing quite a bit.  (I am beginning to think that “the waiting place” mentioned in Dr. Suess’s O The Places You’ll Go refers to Bolivia.)   After some searching, I managed to find a street market that rivals Mary Jo’s cloth store.  Bolts of cloth, buckets of thread, shelves upon shelves of yarn, embroidery hoops and knitting needles hanging from street vendor carts. I bought yarn and have now started a hat! 

Saturday, I also went to a music instrument museum that was absolutely fantastic.  Pictures (I hope) later. It reinforced my desire, not to buy a charango, but to make one.

Today, after plans for a hike fell through for the third time, I returned to the city hoping to return to the music shop, find a bookstore, and try a vegetarian restaurant near some friends’ apartment.  Music shop? Closed. Bookstore? Closed. Vegetarian restaurant? Closed.  I should have known… it is Domingo. 

Lesson of the weekend: Roll with the punches.

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