Russell {Soules} just gave us a few notes on his “harp” {harmonica}, and Peter Brooks is taking a piss just outside the front door. It’s 10:30, the beer is gone, Conrad {Ebish} has long since shown his slides. There are card games going on in many cabins, & a stereo is playing soul music. It’s the first night of our second annual Peace Corps Conference - site, Lake Coatepeque.
I had 2 boxes of Colonel Sander’s Kentucky Fried Chicken for supper, plus popcorn, 5-6 beers, a glass of milk & 2 Cokes. God the things I do to this poor old stomach.
I had a talk with Peter Bissell, one of my roommates, about nothing special. We agreed that Peace Corps is OK for a couple years, but no more! And we think it’s a bummer they didn’t show the Foreman-Frazier fight on T.V. tonight.
Peace Corps boss John Jones says he’s let some embassy people know about me getting tied up, etc. by the police, & he isn’t happy about it, especially in the wake of the more serious incident with John Newton. I’d just like to see it all blow over without further hassle. The uneducated, sullen guardia {soldiers} just played tough with the wrong guy, but it didn’t get out of hand. I kept my cool and it came out all right, so let it ride. (If it were up to me!)
<I got a letter off to Sofia & a card to Dad (Father’s Day) before leaving Santa Tecla on the chartered bus to come here.> Work this morning was routine & uneventful. I got my vacation form signed to head out for Costa Rica in July.
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