Well, we have the apartment, it is livable innable if not the lap of luxury (going down from the cluttered apartment in which we had squirreled away, over the years, everything necessary for a civilized life to our present situation in which we barely have enough blankets for ourselves and not a stick of furniture extra is an experience I needed to have—no wool blankets here yet, no silver coffee pots, no useless floppy disks or extra pillows, no surplus of extension cords or closets full of towels and table cloth and NO CLOTH NAPKINS, yet); I should have a visa before long, I have employment and just acquired another private student for three hours a week at a very decent time of the day. Katrina has a kitchen with all the basics, soon will have curtains, has two students and very reasonable times, mostly, and the possibility of a few more.
All we will lack will be a visa for Katrina and her medical insurance. Those might come in the form of some sort of job: it is a consideration for her to help out at one of the Christian schools around here. We’ll have to see.
But that is a consideration that might have other options with more income. More income = a few more sticks of furniture, some other amenities, the books perhaps, and, of course, pizza and medical insurance. And travel to see this great country.
Hey, I’m going to Cucuta! Cucuta is away from the coast and at sea-level more or less. In these regions it means amazing heat—heat like Minnesota’s cold in January. And the way lies through my beloved Boyaca, through Santander from which good people come, over the chilly Paramo de Pisba, and through the amazing Chicamocha canyon. Should be an interesting 16 hour overland ordeal . . . each way. And I get to see the land of el Loco Chavez! Here you see M-16′s all the time, perhaps there I’ll see AK-47′s.
Things are falling into place after a month or so of trying uncertainties and protracted delays. The only thing not falling is the rain.
And why doesn’t it rain? When I go to Ireland, it quits raining till my last day. When I come to Bogota, the clouds hurry over us all day, going to rain elsewhere. I sometimes feel that I’m a drought god who upon taking on human shape forgot his real supernature and lives under a curse of rainlessness. But if it were raining I’d be so very gruntled, having rain, income, amenities, books, coffee and travel to exotic locations.