📸 Photo

hunting large animals and the kind that scatters widely for hunting birds.

We stopped next at a hat shop. Karl recommended that we all buy wide-brimmed hats, then said goodbye. A very nice Bolivian woman smiled at us patiently, though we each tried on dozens of hats until Kevin came up with the idea that we should wear distinctive headgear; that would make us more photogenic.

When we finally left the store, I looked like a gangster out of the 1930s, with a stiff, light-coloured felt cocked over one eye. Marcus wore a sombrero, and Kevin a broad straw that made him look like a kibbutznik.

Kevin and Marcus returned to the Rosario, and I went to inform the Israeli embassy of our planned adventure, but they were too busy to see me. I left a note detailing the route we would be taking and the exact dates that Karl had set. I wrote down Kevin's, Marcus's, and Karl's names along with their ages and addresses and ended with the request that action be taken if I hadn't returned by the fifteenth of December.

The secretary told me to leave the note in the register of Israeli tourists visiting Bolivia. The note was extremely important to me. It made me feel safe: if something were to happen to me, the embassy would come to my aid.

When I returned to the old-folks' home, there was the usual bustle: people cooking, doing laundry, doing handicrafts to make a little money,