Tarija, Bolivia

I'd never heard of this city till the landlord at Sucre handed me a ticket to go and be on my way to Paraguay. Tarija is not really on the way the way I intend to go, i.e. through el Chaco, from north to south, skipping the usual Argentine route so few take.

To my delight, and it took a long while, I find this to be a most excellent city. However, I had difficulty finding a taxi from the bus station, as it were, that would take me to the city centre. I'd arrived at the station, a round spot with kiosks and buses that pull up around it, at 5:00 a.m., dead tired after a sleepless night of watching the Andes by moonlight. No driver would take me to the city centre. I had to cross a major blvd to find a taxi driver who didn't notice I had come from the station. I got him to take me to a hotel, booked full, they told me, and then to another, and finally, after at least ten places with no vacancies, I found one on a dirty side street, a one star dump that I took without complaint. I showered, and having slept for a few hours took a look around town. My pleasure. What a lovely looking place. Getting lost within minutes I found myself by the river.

It started to rain at some point, so I took shelter in a church in this city that supposedly considers itself more Argentine than Bolivian.
I'm left wondering about that. In a walk a day later I missed the road to the cemetery, which I assumed was a church on a hilltop. Along the wrong way, I spotted a nicely painted house.

Some things are universal, such as love. Saw that, too. It's likely more meaningful in a foreign language, forcing one to repeat it to ones loved on in Spanish.
Yeah, I'm sentimental. More later about my trip to the cemetery and more of the city.

And stuff.