14.03.08 Everything is going to be alright

My Spanish lesson was disrupted by bangs, it sounded like a busy day in Baghdad. These bangs are common in La Paz, it’s not guns (well nearly always, I’m told) but marchers setting off firecrackers. Today, it was the miners turn to demonstrate and they were going to town with fuses and gunpowder. At one point, the noise was incredible and prolonged, and even Julio thought it was too much—they must be very angry. For former demonstrator Evo Morales it must be echoes of his past coming back to haunt him. How long until he cracks down?

In the computer room after class, I introduced myself to a fellow gringo who was crying. The poor girl was ill after eating street food. It would appear that a lunch of cow’s heart dowsed in kerosene and then lit may have repercussions beyond indigestion. I was sympathetic but hardly surprised. Fool that I am, part of me really admired her balls for even attempting such a thing.

Walking down from our future landlady’s, I went past an angry crowd. In the middle was a tall, light-skinned man bleeding freely from a cut left eye. All I caught in the shouting was the word “ninas” or children. I wondered if the kids I had seen yesterday were responsible in some random meaningless attack.

I submitted my first commissioned piece today to The Tablet. It’s not the world’s longest but I had found, researched and written the story from scratch, and it means that, if anyone bothers to ask, I can say that I am a foreign correspondent. After a beer or two, I went home and attempted to learn some Spanish. Instead, I was distracted by the bright-blue sky, cotton clouds and view of the rocks. As the sun set, the sky turned a darker blue and the rocks’ colours were accentuated, I listened to Lemonjelly and thought everything is going to turn out fine.