Latin America Diaries Read Online Free PDF

took his companion. At first he said she was a teacher, but it turned out she was a student, running away from her parents’ home, and that she didn’t know how to swim. The guy is going to face a few troubles ahead.
    I went to visit Dr. Pesce and the people from the leprosy colony. 9 Everyone greeted me most cordially.
    Nine days have passed in Lima, although due to various engage ments with friends we still haven’t seen anything extra special. We found a university diner that charges 1.30 a meal, which suits us perfectly.
    Zoraida Boluarte invited us to her place, and from there we went to the famous 3-D cinema. It doesn’t seem all that revolutionary to me and the films are just the same. The real fun came later, when we found ourselves with two cops who turned the place upside down and carted us down to the police station. After a few hours there, we were released and told to come back the next day— today. We’ll see.
    The police stuff came to nothing: After a mild interrogation and a few apologies, they let us go. The next day they called us backin with some questions about a couple who had kidnapped a boy. They bore some resemblance to the Roy couple in La Paz.
    The days succeed each other with nothing new and no opportunities. The only event of any import has been our change of residence, which enables us to live totally gratis.
    The new house has worked out magnificently. We were invited to a party, and although I couldn’t drink because of my asthma, Calica used the opportunity to get smashed once again.
    Dr. Pesce honored us with one of his rambling, genial chats in which he touches with such assurance on so many diverse topics.
    Our tickets for Tumbes are almost a sure thing—they’re being arranged by a brother of Sra. de Peirano. So here we are, waiting, with practically nothing more to see in Lima.
    Empty days continue to go by, and our own inertia ensures we remain in this city longer than we had hoped. Perhaps the ticket question will be resolved tomorrow, Monday, so we can set a definite departure date. The Pasos have made an appearance, saying they have good work prospects here.
    We’re almost on our way, with only a few minutes left to look over dreamy Lima again. Its churches are filled with an interior magnificence that doesn’t extend to their exteriors—my opinion— they don’t have the dignified sobriety of Cuzco’s temples. The cathedral has several scenes of the Passion of great artistic worth, which seem like they have been done by a painter from the Dutch school. But I don’t like its nave, or its stylistically amorphous exterior, which looks as if it was built in the transition period when Spain’s martial fury was on the wane and a decadent love of ease and luxury was rising. San Pedro has a number of valuable paintings, but I don’t like its interior either.
    We ran into Rojo, who had had the same trouble as us, only more so owing to the particular books he was carrying. He is traveling to Guayaquil, where we will meet up.
    To farewell Lima we saw “The Big Concert,”a Russian film dangerously like US cinema, although better, considering its color and musical quality. Saying good-bye to the patients was really quite emotional, I think I will write about it.
    Lima, September 3 [1953]
    Dear Tita, 10
    Sadly, I have to write to you in my beautiful handwriting, as I haven’t been able to get hold of a typewriter to remedy the situation. At any rate, I hope you have a day free to dedicate to reading this letter.
    Let’s get to the point. Thank your friend Ferreira for the letter of introduction to the Bolivian college. Dr. Molina was very kind to me and seemed enchanted with both me and my traveling companion, the one you met at home. He subsequently offered me a job as a doctor and Calica work as a nurse in a mine; we accepted, but wanted to reduce the three months he wanted us to stay to one. Everything was