Catorce.

Despite her name, Copacabana is a little touristic bitch. I was looking for old-style slave-market or at worst an ancient Spanish harbor, but it was a real bummer. A trade-union-meeting, soccer match, inca-ruins-again, pretty small cemetery. Should be more cemeteries, and they should be more smaller and all around, esp. at cities-centers. If think over the matter about a conceptual object, catchphrases, some decor, well, those things might be like an antidote that counteract pighead days. It was cemetery influence or not, but two days laterI left the bed and went on. Also, Copacabana has really tasty fish. Enough.

Trece.

I´ve come to Juli (spelled as Khuli) at late evening and spent there few morning hours, but managed to visit a church, another one church (or smth similar), town market, point of view and the main thing - have been poisoned by one tin of milk. After puking about three times on the road, I've crossed the border and arrived to Copacabana at last. 38 degrees heat in during two days, damned freeze at night, it was a cheerful time. O sue, Juli. Well, you know, um. Sorry, boyos, I have to go.