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Show Gringos enter Bolivia with smugglers sends a letter with a passenger on the Friday plane." End of spy story, but beginning of great evening. It was my birthday and we were up for a special splurge, so. beers downed, we went off with Bernardo to an outdoor restaurant, nightclub where we spent several most enjoyable hours listening to typical Paraguayan Para-guayan harp and guitar music over a dinner of succulent steaks and Argentine wine. around the corner to a hotel the cheapest we could find and yet three times the price we had paid in Peru. Cockroaches, included, through at no extra cost. Got ready for dinner and realized we had forgotten the letter. Back to the beer garden and a telephone call to Dr. Bernardo Rojas Gullaux. We knew that our "contact" spoke English, but the telephone was answered in Spanish and when I asked for Dr. Guillaux the man said "Do you have the letter?" When I replied affirmatively. Dr. Guillaux Guil-laux came on the line and agreed to meet us in 25 minutes. We sat and watched the entrance for a sinister looking type in a slouch hat and trench coat. In exactly 25 minutes very unsinister looking young man in slacks and sport shirt entered the restaurant, came up to our table and asked if we had "the letter." We asked him to sit with us and I furtively pulled the envelope from my purse and slid it in my best spy style across the table. Trying on my Mata Hare voice, I asked if it was what he was waiting for. "Ah yes," he said and smiled. "The weekly letter from my mother. The mail service is so bad that she always By Shirley Smith We entered Bolovia in the back of a truck one evening as the sun was sinking in a viot of color over Lake Titicaca. We traveled with a half dozen other gringos and four Indian ladies who were smuggling batteries and laundry detergent. Shared a hotel room with friends in a tiny town on the lake shore and the next day, La Paz. The city sits in a 12,00 foot valley but the road winds in from above and you forget the altitude. It is a wonderful city with wide avenues, old plazas, new buildings, endless varieties of fresh fruit juices in the market, American style sugar doughnuts mouth-watering empanadas i (meat filled pastries) and people you meet in restaurants who invite your whole group of six home for an evening of card playing. We had contacts here, friends and relatives of Bolovian friends in the states and each day was filled with special times lunches and dinners, a late night show of hauntingly beautiful beauti-ful Bolovian music and one Sunday afternoon a special folklore performance with wonderfully won-derfully elaborate costumes and 'he most famous dancers in the country. It was hard to leave. Trained and bussed our way finally east from LaPaz, ending at east in Santa Cruz a boom town.near the Brazilian border. From here we were to fly to Asuncion. Paragway as the first step-on our way to the Falls of lguazu, one of the mightiest waterfalls in the world on the border of Brazil and Argentina, and .thus began, "The Case of the Letter." Wis" wen i to the airline office in Santa Cruz and while we were buying our tickets an older Bolovian lady came up to us and asked if we would deliver a letter to someone in Asuncion. The letter was marked Urgente and was addressed with the name and telephone number of ihe " contact" in Asuncion. Sure :iiat we were about to become a party to some sort of international interna-tional espionage, we agreed to deliver the letter. We landed in Asuncion, !"Ughi our way inio town and 'he local bus drenched in perspiration from the unaccus-inmed unaccus-inmed heat and humidity and were dropped by fate I am sure, in front of a German beer garden lots of German immigraiion to Paragurey in the early part of the century. A couple of foamy mugs of beer in an outside courtyard latsr we perspired ourselves |