I got away from San Isidro yesterday without running into the guy who had invited me to drink “chicha” (corn liquor). I was worn out from lack of sleep & didn’t need any rot-gut {liquor}. It wouldn’t have taken much to wipe me out. I promised to write to Doña Julia Varela, & send her the pictures I took. I’ll send a card to Francisco Mendoza when I get back to the States, too. He was so good to me.
I’m in Santa Tecla at Ed Shiffer’s this morning. I came in last night while 3 of his young friends & he were having a heavy political discussion over Costa Rican / Salvadoran relations. He never seems to be alone. I wonder how I’ll fit into his ‘open house’.
I read through this volume of my journal coming in on the train. I misspell and leave out words so much that I felt obligated to correct things as I went. Some of my moods seem so distant and weird when I read about them later.
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