I went to my first Yalí funeral. I ended up walking the half mile between the church and the cemetary with the sister of the deceased. She weeped, and I did my best to give her water when necessary. Her boyfriend and best friend hadn´t been able to come, so she was happy that I was there, even though I´ve only known her a month. She ran off, and one of her other friends and I found her crying against the hot, black hood of a flat-bed truck. As she cried onto both of our already sweaty shoulders I felt like I was actually supposed to be there. Today at the final Mass for her brother, that sentiment was reinforced. We sat with the Father and the closest family eating lunch afterwards.

In between those events I went diving off of a ledge called ¨El Salto¨ with my first visitor, a volunteer from the Japanese version of the Peace Corps, JICA. The dive was about four meters and at first made me nervous. I first encountered it the day before while hiking to a farm to learn how to horse back ride. Im getting used to it.