Weddings in Bolivia were very festive affairs. They were pretty much just an excuse to have a giant feast and invite around 1000 relatives and the mutant fly-man. I’m sure many of them were days long. Such was the case with Juan. He was one of the groundsmen at school. Roy (Joel’s dad) was lucky enough to be godfather for Juan’s wedding.
Most of my early summer days in Cochabamba were spent with Joel, because we both lived on the school grounds and neither of us had any other friends. Joel was an adventurer, and as such had plenty of GI Joes & Micro Machines, a New Zealand Passport and a 70cc raging beast of a Honda Motorbike with a peeling Rolling Stones sticker.
Studying at an International School has its drawbacks. For one thing, there’s no standard curriculum. You get whatever the teacher at the time deems appropriate learning. Being an Australian citizen, naturally I got American History. I had an English teacher for Science, and a Kiwi teacher for English. You can blame her for the poor writing on this blog.
Marcos had diarrhoea in the desert and we pelted him with rocks. OK, so we all have things in our lives that we’re ashamed of. But you have to understand, it was a different time, on the cusp of the last decade of the last century… (cue time travel graphic overlay…) South America was being ravenged by Cholera.