Hanky-Panky

No, Gentle Reader, I have not been misbehaving.  I have to say that my behaviour and morals here in Bogota have been unimpeachable.  Boring perhaps but good for the skin.  I didn`t do a lot on Monday, just wandered around a couple of unfamiliar and unremarkable neighbourhoods with a long coffee break for my art.  I will not comment on the drivers here... Whoops! I just did!

Yesterday I wandered on foot down into el Chapinero, which is a very funky neighbourhood of old brightly painted buildings and interesting shops, kind of suggests a combination of Commercial Drive, Main Street and Gastown.  Very busy with people everywhere.  There is a tranquil university campus in the midst of it all, all brick Victorian era houses and landscaping and peaceful walks and, to my surprise, riot police!  They were hanging out, almost a dozen of them all decked out in their gear as though anticipating trouble though to look at them they might have been on an extended coffee break, shooting the breeze with each other and looking otherwise chill and happy despite their formidible costume.  It did look rather like costume, but I still suspect they`re for real since there weren`t any cameras around.

As I was enjoying croissant and jam and coffee in a snooty French cafe on my way down there I was surprised to hear someone speaking English.  It was a man about forty-ish, American I think, entertaining a young Bogotana, a lovely woman of twenty-something and impeccably dressed.  He was telling her rather loudly about his wife and this fabulous expensive new coat she bought.  Then when I glanced again and noticed the young woman`s hand resting on his thigh I really began to wonder.  None of my business of course and maybe he and wifey have an open marriage or some kind of mutual agreement, but if they don`t, and especially if they have kids I hope she finds him out and kicks his smug white ass all the way to divorce court.  Later in the Juan Valdez Cafe in Parque 93 (the Colombian Blenz), following an hour of repose and artwork from a comfy couch with a bottle of mineral water I ended up having to wait at least twenty minutes to get into the washroom.  There was a young man, one of the staff waiting ahead of me.  Then just after he went in another young male staff member using an electronic key got in there with him.  They were in there for quite a long time and by the time they both got out there were a half dozen of us waiting to get in (one at a time, of course!)  Now exactly what too young male coffee servers would be doing together inside a single occupancy washroom for going on fifteen minutes is anyone`s guess and I hope they`re very happy together, but let`s just say that it was a good thing they got out of there as fast as they did because they might have had an improptu lynch mob to reckon with.  A time and a place for everything, eh?

I am exercising my street smarts to the best of my ability while here.  While I was resting on a park bench a street woman casrrying bags of stuff on top of her head began to approach me.  Knowing how vulnerable one can be sitting with a stranger towering over them I knew to get up and get away asap.  Now she might have just wanted spare change but following a potentially very dangerous experience I almost got into last year in Bogota your humble servant isn`t taking any chances this time.  Also, on my way back to the bed and breakfast a rather well groomed young man wanted to stop me to ask me a question.  I said no thanks and kept going.  On the other hand, in the morning another young guy stopped to ask me directions.  I sensed he was okay and politely told him I am new here and didn`t know the area well.  No problem.

Myriam, the owner of the establishment where I am staying is being a pain.  She seems to have bad nerves and fusses a lot and can be a bit scary and domineering.  The latest problem was that I was having trouble coordinating the keys in order to correctly unlock the complex system of door locks to get back into the house (for very good reasons people here are very security conscious).  I also had a sore hand that day, Monday, a complication of the mild carpel tunnel that afflicts me sometimes so it was even more difficult manipulating the keys, which kept bumping into each other and one of the keys became bent in the process.  Not being sure if the key would still work I pressed the door buzzer.  Let`s just say she was not happy about being disturbed and commanded me to do it properly and to not close the door normally because it makes too much noise.  Later in the kitchen I explained to her and her husband Andres (who is very nice and easy going by the way, not Colombian, but French-Swiss) that last May I was in hospital with partial paralysis in my hands and feet and even though I`ve recovered there are still problems and sometimes it is going to be difficult manipulating the keys.  They were understanding about it but what a pain to have to explain something so personal.

Anyway, last year when I was here and we did have someconflict Myriam threatened to throw me out so I am being careful not to piss her off this time.  What lovely little eggshells I get to walk on.  The good news is she`s not around a lot and otherwise its a very decent situation here.  Still, just in case she does try to pull a fast one and does toss me out onto the street I am thinking of registering with the Canadian embassy here, just in case.