Look! My own Servants Will Rejoice!

The weather has been sub par for the last two days, so we've been chilling a bit. You know, hanging out at the mall, playing cards at the cafe, stuff like that. Not much to blog about, but it has been relaxing. Mike bought some boots and a matching cowboy hat. He wanted to wear them out of the store--with his shorts--but we convinced him not to.
We went to a pena for dinner. It is a restaurant that serves traditional fare accompanied by traditional folk music and dancers. One of the singers (who bore an eerie resemblance to Tom Jones) would intersperse his songs with poems, jokes and long soliloquies. Of course, we couldn't understand half of his jokes. (There was one I think I caught; something about estrellas and chest hair.) Anyways, early in the evening Mike noticed a table of five modestly dressed young people. They had the look. So when, in one of his rambles, Tom Jones asked everyone in the audience to toast the gauchos, we checked their reaction. Sure enough, they didn't raise their glasses. On the next break, I was elected to go over and talk to them.
I told them we were Witnesses from the US. One of them, Miguel, tested me by showing me a YPA book with the title covered and asking me to identify it. I passed the test, and then asked him: "Le gustaria usted saber la verdad?" (Would you like to know the truth?) They laughed, and we were in. We ended up pulling up chairs and joining them. The music was loud, and I could barely hear them, let alone understand them. So we started a written correspondence across the table. Even communicating with pens, we were too loud, and were shushed by Tom Jones. (Sorry!) We stayed until the place closed--a first for us here in this country where everything transpires so late. And now we have plans: on Thursday, three of them are picking us up in front of our hotel and bringing us to the meeting, and then dinner after. Which means we have less than three days to get Ryan a comment.