Katerina
San Luis is a small but pretty decent town, situated almost in the middle of the island. It has everything a person can expect, including a local mall and a large pub, which, if Juan is correct, is the only decent place in town to get chicken wings and entertainment at the same time.
At eight pm it is crowded with people though. It’s loud and the air smells of cigars and alcohol and sweat. Every single table is already taken as well as the bar. People are laughing and drinking, celebrating the end of yet another working day under the scorching sun. Waitresses in skin tight uniforms carry large plates with food and drinks, and the music is loud and unfamiliar to my ears. Yet, somehow, as I follow Eva and Juan inside, it’s also like I’ve always known the melody that’s running thro
