A Mexican at Twenty

Quick update before running to Grupo Faro. Today, over breakfast at my hostel, two of the women who work there asked me if my parents were Mexican. I asked why they might think so, and one pointed at my hair. "Es tan negro!" she said. (It's so black.) More black than they're used to from Americans. The other then indicated my eyebrows, which are apparently too thick to be plausibly Gringo.

I admitted my parents were Chilean and made a quick exit (though first I finished my granola, and not before they expressed shock at my age--they thought I was 20.)

By the way, Eli, Orazio, if either of you is reading this--stop now, and return in 3 weeks. Trust me.