Last Wednesday I met up with my dad and his Bolivian colleagues for lunch in lovely Georgetown. The Bolivians didn't speak English and their translator was away that afternoon. Thanks to my 2 years of high school Spanish, the role of 'translator' fell to me instead.
It went surprisingly well. I was amazed at all the different ways the 5 Spanish words I know could be rearranged to form different sentences.
We discussed the upcoming elections, Ivo Morales and the cocaine trade.
Lunch ended with the Bolivians inviting me to visit them in La Paz. They were so friendly that I am now rethinking my stance on illegal immigration.
They gave me a box of coca tea as an olive branch of peace. I tried it yesterday to see if it would give me energy. (It tastes just like chamomile, btw). I got some energy, but I don't think I will be giving up Red Bull anytime soon.
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"She stopped, she looked at her brother. 'Isn't life,' she stammered, 'isn't life-.' But what life was she couldn't explain." Katherine Mansfield, The Garden Party
