As the leader of all illegal activities in Cochabamba, I am an influential and respected man.

There's a little gym right around the corner from my hotel, and I went and worked out yesterday. I was actually really amazed at how good I felt afterwards - then I thought about how I've basically had no exercise since I got here other than walking around. I wore shorts to the gym, and walking there I realized I was the only one wearing shorts, even though it was probably 85 degrees, and I also realized that I had never seen a Bolivian wearing shorts. I got whistled at from a car.

One thing I've noticed about South America which is strange is the lack of motorbikes. I mean in Asia and India, there are probably ten little scooters and ten more tuk-tuks for every private car. It makes sense, because a brand-new scooter is only like $1000, and a used one can be just a couple hundred bucks. And they're thrifty with gas. I don't know if there's something cultural against scooters here, or if for some reason they're just not sold, but there are hardly any around. More in Cocha, mostly cool old 50's beaters that apparently only came in red. Kind of "Motorcycle Diaries" style.

Another thing I like about Cochabamba is that they have siesta here. Almost everything shuts around noon, and reopens three or four hours later. It's kind of annoying for me sometimes, because I usually want to go do stuff after lunch, but I would think it would be great for them: work half a day, go home and eat, spend time with family and friends, take a nap, and go back and work just another half day. It seems like in a lot of America, after a long day and commute, people aren't up for doing much except having a drink in front of the television. But if the day could be broken up into two half-days, it seems like it would be much more relaxing. Sure, you eat dinner later, but so what?

The Sabbath can be even more annoying for me, because really everything shuts. The biggest problem is that hardly any restaurants are open. But I'm starting to appreciate Sunday's as a day to hang out and play guitar, go over my Spanish notes, read, and be reflective. From that point of view, It's actually kind of nice to have a whole day set aside each week for that stuff, which I guess is the point of Sabbath anyways.

I got ahold of the guy I came here to meet, Ismael Saavedra. Ismael started his adult life in the Bolivian Air Force, then went to university in La Paz where he got a doctorate in political science and law; he later went on to produce several critically acclaimed films, such as "Panama Deception" (Acadamy Award, 1993). He currently works as Academic Director at the School for International Training here in Cochabamba. My friend Kate, who did some work with him on a coca documentary last year, told me that he's a great guy and will be an excellent resource for scoring interviews. And I guess he speaks four languages. I mean, all I need for someone to make me feel stupid is to speak Spanish at a moderate pace.

Of course, now that I'm here I'm not sure if I'll want to leave. I jumped the gun a little bit on Cochabamba, I think. Sure, the drivers here don't use their signals, won't stop at red lights, and refuse to turn on their headlights at night; and sure, I almost got beat up by some guys in a bathroom, but generally the people here are more outgoing and friendly than other places in Bolivia. People even smile at me regularly here. The weather is really nice. The food is leagues better than other places I've been in Bolivia. And every time I go out, there's at least one girl that wants to make sure I don't eat alone. It's kind of absurd, actually: whenever I go out to eat, I never finish my meal by myself. Last night these girls told me I was Brad Pitt for them (trust me, this is something I never thought I would hear in my life). I guess if you want to be rich and desireable, you don't need to work hard at it or be a movie star, you just need to go someplace where your money is worth more and the color of your skin is exotic. It's going to be a bit of a drag to go back to someplace like La Paz to interview people when the people there are hostile or indifferent to me and the food is awful.

Oh, if you're wondering why I almost got beat up in a bathroom, the short version is that I was dancing with the younger sister of a drunken, violent Bolivian who had just gotten out of boot camp (I sympathize - from what I understand boot camp would make anyone grumpy). I mean, we weren't all over each other, by any means - but let me explain how dancing works in Bolivian clubs: guys stand in a line, and girls stand in another line opposite the guys (it's real important that this doesn't get mixed up, as I found out - I kept getting pulled back into the "guys line" when I would try and spin with my partner). The guys and the girls stand about four feet apart, and apparently aren't supposed to look at each other or touch. I guess the goal is to just bob around, possibly with your hands in your pockets (yes, some guys had their hands in their pockets), and look bored. Which is easy, because it's pretty damn boring. Towards the end of the night, my friends were getting me to do silly things - they'd give me a dance move, and I would grossly exaggerate it. I think they thought I was really drunk, but really I was just trying to relieve the oppresive boredom of dancing in a line. Anyways, the brother of one of the girls showed up, and decided he didn't like me I guess. But nothing happened, really.