Can I comment on my own post?

Ooooh, if good wishes made a difference... and it turns out they do. I got GREAT advice from friends far and wide on my "Boohoo, I'm homesick" post last week. Amazing folks with great council and some of it very targeted while other recommendations were slightly off-kilter - in other words, perfect for me! Like a blast from the past, an e-mail from late September, 2001 (thanks Eth) that really puts things in perspective. Another one, from Dad, reminded me of a favorite childhood memory - eating peanuts at Busch Stadium during Cardinals' games and - get this! - throwing the shells on the ground!!! WOOHOO! My Dad loves me. :>

I feel better, in part because I'm rat-wheel busy this week, and in part because I took words like these to heart:

"You can still befriend the barista and stash your fridge with takeout.  It's allowed, I swear."  

So I don't have to change who I am or suddenly become some kind of domestic maven? Thank you, Diane!

"It takes a year, more or less, to get used to it. But maybe for you, six months!" 

That cracked me up, Aby - you have more faith in me than I do! Thank you!

Laura sent me another happy memory - of going to see Bajofondo together at the 9:30 Club. Oh, man, yeah! Susan cheered me up with her eternal confidence in my "adventurous spirit!" Cousin Kari reminded me that I will find my niche - because that is what I, we, do. My darling niece promised to send a care package of Smarties (RIGHT on target, girl). 

And Jane, ever available emotionally for those weaker moments in life, asked if what she was hearing was the "waaaaaaaaaahmbulance?" Oh, Sweet (?) Jane, leave it to you to make red wine come out of my nose.

Rebecca, who has spent so much of her life in such amazingly challenging places (not like Bogota, trust me), told me it goes like this:

"It is a phase. You'll make real lasting friends, you'll get your routine, time will fly, then in about 6 months you'll be temporarily bored by it all. That too will pass and suddenly 1 1/2 years later you'll forget what your DC house looks like, and wonder how you could even live there again." 

And Niki gave some great advice: go ahead and feel homesick or sad or whatever, and don't try to fix it or make it go away by saying how dumb it is to be homesick. It was really helpful to just go ahead and feel it, even if it ain't all sunshine and buttercups. (What the bloody nora is a buttercup anyway? Does it have to do with butter?)

And a special shout-out to a certain Spaniard, who listens to me every night, rain or shine, when he is just waking up on the other side of the world. And who consistently knows the right thing to say to put the sparkle back in my dimples before I go to bed. Love you.

Thanks, everyone. Love you all, in fact. Can't wait till you come visit!!! Bring Smarties.

What will I write about?

I'm not on the move anymore - my home is here in Bogota. I don't know if I can convey how weird that is. In point of fact, I'm not sure I'm entirely in favor! How do people do this, all over the world, all the time, but for me I feel like a fish out of water? Now I have to:

1. Make and nurture friendships (not just the occasional e-mail from another continent. Also, bell boys and coffee shop waitresses no longer count.)
2. Use the opportunity to save money (instead of just pretending I'm "putting aside" my per diem, which I never did.)
3. Walk to work (no more haggling with taxi drivers, or not knowing where I am going)
4. Water my plants (this was very easy to avoid - I just got rid of them all)
5. Keep food in the fridge, you know, to eat. Maybe even cook.
6. Sign up for my own internet service (Tony, where are you when I need you?!?!)
7. Learn my way around, since I'm going to be here awhile
8. Soak myself in some local culture (and not as a day-tripper - as someone who needs to understand and appreciate it)
9. Figure out how to get where the good bike rides are, and the good running trails - no more gyms!
10. Stop thinking of these things as difficult, instead of as a joy

I keep saying it, so for those who've heard it, I'm sorry for the repetition - but I didn't know that making this dream come true would have a cost. I didn't know, or I didn't let myself think about that. And it ain't cheap. Right now I can't say if I'm happy I did it - which is nuts. I have been yammering about getting an overseas post for years.

And Colombia - there is NOTHING wrong with this place. Sure, there are, you know, things. Lines to get a visa, internet outages, stupid people at banks, I'm not sure they clean the manicure implements as much as is warranted, whatever. But of all the places in the world to get posted, this one is glorious - a real top-of-the-list place. In theory AND in practice.

And I love the work. So, Keri, you may be asking, what the flock is wrong with you? Why are you whining?

Maybe I'm just a little homesick. With a case of Ramonitis on top of that.

Two day trips: Facatativá and Finca La Pepita

Facatativá, or Faca, is where I went last weekend. The lady who gave me a facial has a sister-in-law who is really into bicycling and they invited me up for the day. It's an hour outside Bogotá.

There were six of us in the group - the sister-in-law, a guy who owns a bike shop in Faca, his nephew, a retiree and a restauranteur.

We left Faca at about 8 in the morning and road... up. I was on a road bike and everyone else on mountain bikes, so I had a weight advantage - but still had to really work to not look like a wuss. There were bikers EVERYwhere! We were on a beautiful country road through farms of potato, corn and flowers for export (tons of greenhouses!) and we were constantly around bicyclists. We passed the town of Rosal and after another hour or so, and one more big climb, we reached Subachoque. Here's one pic of a few of us in front of the square and church.

Again, bicyclists everywhere - standing around, leaning on their bikes, in all their lycra'ed glory. It looked like they were extras in a bike racing movie. We saw pelotons cruising between police escorts - four of them! - and, when crossing a highway, we saw a stream of bicyclists that must have been several hundred strong tip to tail.

Other scenes were slightly more bucolic:

 






TRIP#2: Finca La Pepita


Party in the mountains! Last Sunday I went to the mountains to enjoy the views and a barbecue - roast pig. My friend Jaime has a beautiful cabin there - built to his own specs. That's my boss in the pic below.

And in this one you can see the gigantic pet they insist is a dog. His name is Theo and he's really gentle, but I swear to God he's actually a pony.

The flora is wacky - found some flowers with a big fat bee diving deep into the flowers, and I would lean in to take pix and then freak out when I saw the thing backing out. So those photos are a little blurry...

 

Here's a dusky view of the whole group, only partially obscured by the Theo's giant black butt:

Birthday Wednesday

A lot has happened in the past three weeks, since last I posted. I flew to DC, and saw Kyna before she headed to an out-of-town conference. She wanted my help in thinking about her work! It was cool. It's as if I were evaluating something related to health, and needed her understanding to take it apart to its elements. Who knew our occupational lives could intersect like that?

I don't have a picture of our confab, but suffice it to say, plenty of Ethiopian food was consumed. Instead, enjoy this pic of her at our Mom's house, laughing, because the cat on the counter is such a weird thing to see in our Mom's house. Mom has totally co-opted the cat, or should we say, the cat and her sister have totally co-opted Mom. Mom and Bob let them get away with anything, including them sitting with their dirty cat butts on the counter, whereas when we were kids Mom wouldn't even have let US sit on the counter.

So Kyna left to her conference, and I settled into packing. The next day the movers came. Whatever wasn't part of the building was promptly covered with copious quantities of bubble wrap, brown paper, or wide straps of tape. And usually all three. The kitty condo looked like a space antenna. Raya stayed hidden in a closet so I'm sure she was supposed to find it gone when she emerged.

The next day Ramon arrived from Islamabad to help with the move. I was pretty much packed by then, except for the small matter of eight suitcases full of stuff and a bike in a box, but I'll get to that later. Instead we spent a couple of days meeting friends (Tony got to meet Ramon first!) and enjoying DC. On the Capital Crescent Trail:

On Friday night - Ramon's birthday! - we gathered up Kyna from the airport and met Ali and Shane for a National's game. Kyna pronounced Ramon a smashing fellow, or something like that, and Ali reiterated that he doesn't really like sports. Shane wowed everyone with what he knows about obscure topics like the Nation's Pastime, and where to buy Dippin' Dots. All around it was quite a trip.

The next day Ramon and I flew with all the stuff to Bogota. We didn't bring Raya, though. She is staying in my condo, but with Kyna, in DC. I thought she would feel safer there, and surrounded by what she knows and loves, rather than dragging her to Bogota. (This meant calling the shipping company so they could return the kitty condo! Imagine explaining that to someone. That, friends and family, is my life. Seemed perfectly natural to me, to explain to the shipper, a fellow named Sam, that my cat was perhaps a bit mentally unstable for such a journey.)

Ramon and I, on the other hand, were livin' the high life in Bogota by that time. We went downtown one day and saw the bets placed on the guinea pig races:

 

We also enjoyed a great Ciclovia day. The rest of the week was a whirlwind of dinners, a bit of touristing, introducing Ramon to my friends and coworkers, and a really painful goodbye. 

I loved having him here, and I can't wait to see him again. (C'mon, November!)

Thankfully I had my birthday this week to look forward to. My boss (in the pink shirt in the picture below) and another colleague (the other guy) walked up to Monserrate with me first thing in the morning, to start the day juuuuuust right. It was very much "straight up" - a stairway, basically, that goes up maybe 1000 feet in 45 minutes' hiking.

Gorgeous views all the way up, and I soaked my eyes with nature. It really was a beautiful start to the day. Then we rode down in the funicular, which I hadn't done yet.

That night Ramon spoofed me, pretending he didn't remember my birthday. Something to remember on his birthday next year... 

This. Is. The. Place.

I got the apartment I wanted in Bogota. It’s so lovely. It’s light and airy – like being in a plane or on a boat, navigating the city from the seventeenth floor.

This is the view toward the mountains. The apartment hasn’t been lived in recently, and when I moved in there was nothing here, not even a fridge. In Colombia, apparently, an unfurnished apartment means one without appliances. Do you know, I’d never bought a major appliance before? Now I’ve bought two.

And two beds, plus a sofa-bed – for your visiting pleasure. I also promise sheets and a blanket. Here’s the poor sot who had to drag one of the mattresses up the curving staircase:

For those of you who read the How To Do Your Laundry In Pakistan entry, you’ll be pleased to hear I was given a twenty-minute tutorial, with practicum, in the use of my new washing machine.

I’m on the 17^th floor of a building that is honored with a plaque on the street – some kind of architectural marvel. There are three towers that curve around and some apartments have big terraces. The views from the apartment are… indescribable.

And now I'm getting plants!!

The living room is big and shaped funny. I’m waiting till I go to DC next week to pick up some rugs – I really need some rugs! Right now it’s cold here and there’s no heat in the apartment. The floors feel really cool and rugs will make a difference. Here’s what it looks like today:

Still trying to decide on a coffee table… but for now at least I have the beds, a kitchen table, and this sofa. And the grill, which is the first thing I bought!

Outside the window of my place, about ten blocks away, is the city’s tallest building, the Colpatria Tower. From nightfall till about 11 p.m., there is an ever-changing light show. Right now, for example, there are pictures of a hot air balloon flying over a valley; by the time I finish this sentence it will be a giant rubik’s cube or maybe spinning daisies. Nope, a dragonfly. It’s a bit weird and obnoxious, but also entertaining (especially given the lack of a television.) Check it out!

In other views, the towers stand right over the main city bullring. Bullfights have been indefinitely suspended by the pro-animal-rights mayor, but many days there are folks down there practicing, with capes and toy bulls – a guy pushing a one-wheeled, horned bull, kind of like a wheelbarrow. The toreros do their fancy poses and moves, with capes and all. I don’t know if I could handle a bullfight, but I’d like to see one, at least once. If they ever come back to the ring, I could watch for free!

The city is paying the drivers of hundreds of horse-drawn carriages to give up their horses and take on new careers. These fellows – young and old – seem to do odd jobs around the city, and few drivers seem surprised to find themselves stuck behind one.

Yes, anachronistic. Surely slows down traffic, too. But moving into the 21^st century will mean the end of this form of working transport. For some reason I find that sad.

This drink is called “aromatica con frutas” – and different versions of it are sold all over town. It’s stuffed full of fruit and herbs, which you mash up before you drink it. The other very plentiful, very inexpensive drink is fresh juice – of twenty different fruits, at least, many of which I’ve never heard of before. Here's one version of aromatica:

Bogota is also a BIG graffiti city. Some of it is commissioned, and beautiful; lots of it is sprawling and indecipherable. There’s plenty of social commentary, and some amazing murals. There are several in my neighborhood that are pretty spectacular, even if they’re fleeting:

This “ugly bird” has been taken down since I took the photo, as the construction behind it is ready to begin. A “sister” piece, on the same block and I think by the same artist, was dismantled and put together again, with the panels in a different order:

That's a clever way for the owner, who probably doesn't want graffiti, to get his revenge on the artist!

Here’s another one I like, especially given the city’s appreciation for bicycling. The kid with a flak helmet, hiding in a bunker, a hand grenade nearby, says, “prefiero bici” – something like, “I’d rather be biking.” I bet he would.

I met one of the grafiteros – graffiti artists. I had been staring at one of his paintings in my favorite coffee shop – Azimos, which you’ll get to visit when you come here. I didn’t know anything about the artist, but I asked how much the painting was, and I bought it. Because all of a sudden I was an Art Patron, the coffee shop owner informed me that the artist was coming to meet me. His name is Rodez and this is the painting:

It looks better in person, I think. There are pencil scrawlings on the sides, of sizes and descriptions, which Rodez says he added in memory of the naturalists who came to the New World to document the animals and fauna they found. It’s pretty cool.

Rodez is no kid, but he’s no oldster either. When his 15-year-old son got caught painting graffiti, Rodez was furious – until the son begged his dad to come along. Now it’s something they share – you know, like Indian Guides or Thai cooking or something. Now I’ve volunteered to help with one of their commissioned works, at an old folk’s home in the center. From blank white walls the folks who live there will now get crazy colorful fantastical beasts. I’m sure all I’ll get to do is wash brushes, but it should be fun.

That’s it for now – a long one I’ve been meaning to post for a while.

First week in Colombia

My first week in Bogota ended last Sunday with a spin through the city - on Sundays, the city closes down many major avenues and they fill up with people on bikes, people on rollerblades, people with dogs, people in wheelchairs, looky-loo tourists, police officers in shorts (always entertaining), people selling snow cones, people selling fresh juice that they squeeze right in front of you... in short, it's absolute mayhem. There's no real bicycling to be done, at least in parts of the route, because it's sooooo crowded. But adorable and fun nonetheless. Here's a shot of the street before it got crowded:

And here's me with a selfy:

One of the best parts of Sunday was seeing the downtown area, which I'd not had time to visit before. It's got cute colonial houses climbing up a hill, and in the big plaza, columns and majesty and pigeons.

And let it not be said that Colombia has lost its old ways. Herewith, a lady leading a llama up the street while I was riding around looking at apartments:

I saw apartments with incredible views:

Apartments with recent remodeling, such as of kitchens and baths:

Lots of curved stairways and some skylights:

Pretty built-in fireplaces:

And I met a taxi driver who switched out my bills for fakes - notice (as I should have) the blurry print on the corner, and the identical serial numbers:

Mostly though I just had a good time. I like my new boss and the job and even the clients, as much as one likes one's clients. I haven't found just the right house or apartment yet, but I've got the weekend ahead (and another Sunday on the bike!)