I stumble across live music everywhere, not least in a second-hand bookshop.
On the walk around town, a friendly hustler called Jesus attaches himself to Al and I and effectively won't leave until we agree to go to a paladar (state run restaurant) he recommends. He makes me feel particularly guilty as he says he'll receive a bottle of cooking oil if we show up.
Although we arrive late, he's waiting for us on the corner and has been there for the last hour and a half. He comes into the restaurant with us and sits down. Out of politeness I offer him a drink and soon we're buying him dinner. We're suddenly his best friends and he insists we go to his house for dinner tomorrow night to meet his wife and children. Although we say we're not sure what we'll be doing the following day he refuses to listen and says he'll meet us on the corner of the main square.
Despite our best attempts to avoid the square the following evening, he somehow spots us, rushes over shouting 'over here my friends!' and says his wife has prepared dinner for us, although I don't think this is true. I say that we already have plans tonight and walk into a restaurant. He still refuses to listen and says the restaurant is expensive and not that good so he'll be waiting for us downstairs. Luckily he has disappeared when we emerge two hours later.
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