Journal, January 30, 1977 AM

I have the shirt, the shoes, the jacket and the pants in which I will be married. Yesterday was another expensive one, but the 2 major items noted in the account book were mine this time. Just about all the hardware for the wedding has been bought now I guess. What we lack is things like music, a photographer, the hall, refreshments, flowers, etc.

We could have a “padre {priest}” problem in getting married. It seems the present priest, who is from La Asunción, and a very decent, easygoing sort, is being transferred to Zarcero, and that two Spanish priests are going to take over here in San Antonio {de Belén}. Local common knowledge is that the priests from Spain are real hard-liners when it comes to marriage procedures and the like. <Sofia is going to talk to the priest before he leaves to see what, if anything, he can do to facilitate our marriage.> One might wish that petty politics were not a factor in the supposed house of God.

<Sofia and I ate at a legitimately good restaurant for the first time yesterday.> Pancho Villa is a Mexican place, and the Mexican atmosphere was marred only by the radio, which blared out early 60s U.S. rock music. I had my first shot of tequila ever, so smooth! <Sofia said it was the best place she had ever dined.>

<Sofia’s sister’s boyfriend really came through for us. He brought his brother’s Datsun pickup, and with it we moved nearly all of my stuff (and a smidgen of Sofia’s) over to the apartment in Santo Domingo.> There was plenty of room for the bike, my suitcases, everything.

Ramon {a co-worker who lives in Santo Domingo} was out getting saused-up, but we were fortunate and got into the apartment. <We arranged things, went to El Ranchito {bar} for beer and came back to have a little lunch prepared by Sofia and her sister using my electric frypan.>

Que susto {What a scare}! All four of us got ourselves locked in the little bedroom when the key didn’t work to get out into the little patio. I had locked and secured the other door (to the patio of our landlady’s house), so for a moment we were caught in the frenzy of being trapped there. The girls went bananas and started talking fast in high pitched voices. I was bemused. I eventually unlatched the little door to Lolita’s {Gonzales, our landlady} patio, went around her house and opened the door from in front.

For future reference, I submit a rough plan of our apartment.

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