Serenade

Stopping by this touristy cafe felt a bit like cheating on El Gran Cafe-my lovely, lovely writing cafe where I indulged in sugar, coffee, and lots of peace.

I also tried another upscale tourist cafe with live music, which was nice, but nothing compared to my El Gran cafe. 

When I was walking back one day I found this cafe one block down from the hostel.  It was super nice with bright colors and fantastic art. It had a variety of fresh juices and local/tourist food selection. I walked in and saw probably every tourist from my hostel inside. 

 

Of course, the most convenient hang out would be a café one block down-truly exploring...  It’s not like I wouldn’t be friendly to these tourists, but I didn’t really know any of them except for the Argentinian I had some curiosity about and a couple other girls I engaged in small talk with.

 Deciding between a juice and coffee, I settle for a Decaf coffee and some amazing chocolate.

All ready to dive into this dark chocolate, I get a tap on the shoulder. It’s my buddy that I met near the main White Cathedral. He was coming out of the church at the same time as me and we sat on the bench talking about our conversations with up above. Sometimes I realize how cliché it sounds, but after the initial where are you from and what’s your job- that just fits our environment. 

He lives on a mountain village and he comes down by motor cycle to play guitar at restaurants/bars. He says that he going to sing a few songs and then come sit with me.(He’s also with his older brother who is awesome).
 

When they come over, they surprise me by singing a local hit. Then I make my requests “Bailando” by Enrique Iglesias and “Brown Eyed girl” “Hotel California.” We are just singing together and I am dancing in my chair. They were trying to teach me to play guitar, but I think I just look better faking it. We were just playing all these songs and having his spirit let the beat go on.  The tourists come by to check out the commotion and they look envious of our fun time.  We just keep singing until we close the place down. They were suppose to be working so I gave them each a few dollars. They acted as if I gave them one hundred. It was such a nice moment in time, a seranade-not really, but lovely times.