Hello friend! I surely hope you’ve been better than me.

Oruro is a god-awful, no-good lousy town. I make up my mind as soon as I jump out of the bus and the poignant smell of piss and trash hit me, a cocktail so typical to third-world towns and bus stations but which I have so far successfully avoided in Bolivia. It’s close to midnight, my mouth hurts and I’m alone in a new city that looks like a suburb to a violent Wild West village. I stomp past a woman yelling for passengers to the bus to Cochabamba, my next destination, and I long to jump on it and leave behind the empty, dark streets of this useless town, but I’m in need of a nice sleep and a thorough toothbrushing session even more, so I trudge along. more “Sunday postcard from… Oruro, Bolivia” …