La Polar

So we went dancing last night. Kamikaze. And I think Meg may be African. She can move like I could not believe. It was awesome! So impressive and still complimentary to my dance moves. Ying to the yang. Good stuff. And it's really fun dancing here because you just stand out. Granted her 5'10-ness helps but guys come up to you to dance, cool. Shake a tailfeather. And then ask your friends if you have a boyfriend back in the States. They're too shy to ask you but still want to know. It's cute and nowhere near as pushy or macho as one might think.

Oh, and I went shopping today, people! The clothes I've been wearing for the past 4 months. Well, let's break it down: 6 pairs of pants--2 pair of Levis, both holey, 1 yoga pants--dirty, 2 beach wear pants only--also dirty, and one weird tweed capri or something--guess what, dirty. The funny thing is that your clothes actually get dirty when traveling. Dust, sand, and god knows, smoke. Yep, you can smoke here. In restaurants, in clubs, in hostals. And South America is full of, well, South Americans. And Europeans. AKA smokers. AKA smokers who've never had to put a cigarette out because someone in a restaurant asked. Point being, there's a cloud of grossness around all clothes Anne right now. Gosh. What to do? Laundry? Nah. As luck would have it, it was 2 for 1 weekend at La Polar. Three new pairs of pants, 5 tops later and I was back at the hostal. Oh and a pair of new sneaks too. Like em?? Not sure how I'm going to fit it all in my backpack.