Invisible Paths
21 August 2006
best of... or some of the hundreds of reasons for missing my London
the number one reason
the London Eye!
Natalia... three days without missing her!
Jude in our hideaway in Angel... great afternoon!
Janine and Natalia...
near St.Paul's Cathedral
one side of the Millennium Bridge...
...and the other
the number one reason
the London Eye!
Natalia... three days without missing her!
Jude in our hideaway in Angel... great afternoon!
Janine and Natalia...
near St.Paul's Cathedral
one side of the Millennium Bridge...
...and the other
16 August 2006
moving and... moving
we got flat 404a! white tiles, Colombian views, complete with a porter who was unanimously voted cute by the inhabitants of said flat. The weekends was like a weekend should be: hanging out in the laundry place, waiting for the washing to finish (luckily provided with free internet meantime), a meeting with @Rosario about issue-based XPs, a visit to Unicentro. Filling the clean contents of my suitcase into the cupboard (well two shelves of it...). SLEEP. Sunday wandering around, spending ages in Exito, buying essentials for our house. Star item: a metal plate kind of thing with handle to grill our morning and dinner arepas on the gas stove we have now. Afternoon and evening hanging out with the one and only dream team, preparing for IC... sessions, expectations, role call!
and then, after another 12 hours of running around (physically and mentally) in the office, off to the airport. with a ticket to LONDON, and in a security frenzy (I was the only passenger to London) they made me check in every single bit of possession, down to mobile phone and (!) laptop (!). my famous fuss would not do, and so I bought an expensive insurance, given no choice as the risk-adverse agent I happen to be, and gave my sombrero to Serge. This all killed the time I had planned to sit and update Juli on what has been happening since I took over the coolest job on earth from her... she is finally on her way to Brazil.
So with nothing but passport and boarding pass in hand I arrived in Atlanta, already bored to death from the bubble-gum style of writing I found in the SkyNews Magazine in the marvellous seat pocket in front of me. And lo and behold! I find my fellow passengers to London chilling in front of the gate listening to their ipods, playing solitaire on their laptops, and checking voicemail from their mobile phones.
I was not amused. To put it politely.
Finally I found seat 43C squeezed next to smelly loo in the furthest corner of the airplane, and I was even less impressed... but at least the rest of the world already seems to know that Delta is not exactly the airline of choice, and hence the plane was half empty. So after a dinner of soya beans and rice I wrapped myself in a blanket and used three seats to stretch and forget the world until breakfast.
London is just as I missed it. Funny that this city once appeared busy and dirty to me...
And my love is here... Is this why I love this city so much?
and then, after another 12 hours of running around (physically and mentally) in the office, off to the airport. with a ticket to LONDON, and in a security frenzy (I was the only passenger to London) they made me check in every single bit of possession, down to mobile phone and (!) laptop (!). my famous fuss would not do, and so I bought an expensive insurance, given no choice as the risk-adverse agent I happen to be, and gave my sombrero to Serge. This all killed the time I had planned to sit and update Juli on what has been happening since I took over the coolest job on earth from her... she is finally on her way to Brazil.
So with nothing but passport and boarding pass in hand I arrived in Atlanta, already bored to death from the bubble-gum style of writing I found in the SkyNews Magazine in the marvellous seat pocket in front of me. And lo and behold! I find my fellow passengers to London chilling in front of the gate listening to their ipods, playing solitaire on their laptops, and checking voicemail from their mobile phones.
I was not amused. To put it politely.
Finally I found seat 43C squeezed next to smelly loo in the furthest corner of the airplane, and I was even less impressed... but at least the rest of the world already seems to know that Delta is not exactly the airline of choice, and hence the plane was half empty. So after a dinner of soya beans and rice I wrapped myself in a blanket and used three seats to stretch and forget the world until breakfast.
London is just as I missed it. Funny that this city once appeared busy and dirty to me...
And my love is here... Is this why I love this city so much?
11 August 2006
sunshine and others
these days are intense. In a week of periodic headaches (my past MC will remember): re-negotiating an entire project with the government, talking to all my local VPs, hearing about dozens of projects, ideas, thoughts, solving problems, worrying about budgets.
I received a long-awaited email from a friend yesterday, telling me about his life in the village he grew up in, teaching, creating a house with his mind and hands, sharing the intricate stories of neighbours and family.
It made me think, yesterday sitting on a bus back from the meeting in the presidencia. It made me think about the choices I have made that have taken me here, and about what I am doing here. The endless challenges, the breathless months, days in rows in weeks in months and so on.
And about the choices he has made to stay close to his roots, and to explore them and his beliefs.
It seems like I am always out there, enjoying the rush, the adrenaline. He is more on the inside, introspecting, noticing small changes that I am either to fast or to busy for.
I am thinking about the choices I could have made to lead a life like his, close to the rythm of the seasons, the pulse of nature, working with my hands as much as my mind. Time for reading thinking writing, much more than now. Close to the sea, sailing maybe, barefoot, collecting blueberries (as we did, some seven years ago). I know it would suit that part of me that few know.
But here I am. With my name and fingerprint on a contract for a flat overlooking the mountains east of 1st street, the keys in my pocket. With experiences that I once dreamed of, with the nostalgic memories of friends scattered over the globe, learning every second of the day the way it should be. Fitting that other part.
Bogotá was glowing with sunshine yesterday, today all of Chapinero was without electricity as trees fell on electricity cables.
I received a long-awaited email from a friend yesterday, telling me about his life in the village he grew up in, teaching, creating a house with his mind and hands, sharing the intricate stories of neighbours and family.
It made me think, yesterday sitting on a bus back from the meeting in the presidencia. It made me think about the choices I have made that have taken me here, and about what I am doing here. The endless challenges, the breathless months, days in rows in weeks in months and so on.
And about the choices he has made to stay close to his roots, and to explore them and his beliefs.
It seems like I am always out there, enjoying the rush, the adrenaline. He is more on the inside, introspecting, noticing small changes that I am either to fast or to busy for.
I am thinking about the choices I could have made to lead a life like his, close to the rythm of the seasons, the pulse of nature, working with my hands as much as my mind. Time for reading thinking writing, much more than now. Close to the sea, sailing maybe, barefoot, collecting blueberries (as we did, some seven years ago). I know it would suit that part of me that few know.
But here I am. With my name and fingerprint on a contract for a flat overlooking the mountains east of 1st street, the keys in my pocket. With experiences that I once dreamed of, with the nostalgic memories of friends scattered over the globe, learning every second of the day the way it should be. Fitting that other part.
Bogotá was glowing with sunshine yesterday, today all of Chapinero was without electricity as trees fell on electricity cables.
05 August 2006
house hunting - the never ending story
now they (la imobiliaria) want another guarantor from us. which we got the documents from, which we will hand in tomorrow. then we get the contract on tuesday, inshallah. ha! send it to barranquilla, have it signed by our main guarantor (JuanK mom) there. send back to bogotá. and then they will give us the keys to the flat. unless they come up with something else we have to do. (most likely that will involve having papers signed and checked and certified)
the upside of my displaced status: every night a different kind of delicious juice at Iván's house. and in the morning a cooked breakfast with the house smelling of coffee when I wake up.
the upside of my displaced status: every night a different kind of delicious juice at Iván's house. and in the morning a cooked breakfast with the house smelling of coffee when I wake up.
03 August 2006
a tribute to...
guanábana.
Yesterday I had about a litre of Guanábana juice at Iván's house. Amazing. I choose this fruit whenever and wherever I can...
this morning bought a yoghurt with Guanábana...
Check out this true Guanábana lovers' website.
Yesterday I had about a litre of Guanábana juice at Iván's house. Amazing. I choose this fruit whenever and wherever I can...
this morning bought a yoghurt with Guanábana...
Check out this true Guanábana lovers' website.
01 August 2006
musings and house hunting
A weekend of walking. Since we could not find any suitable flat in the newspaper on Saturday morning over coffee, we took to the streets: classic Colombian house hunting. Caused me to develop a fixation with pieces of paper with red writing in windows. What you want are nice big posters with the hopeful letters "Arrienda". Then a quick questioning of the guard at the entrance of the building, and if the answer is: yes, three rooms, a breathless phone call to the number indicated on the same poster.
That way we found four apartments in our neighbourhood and confirmed that
a) our neighbourhood is expensive (well at least most of it)
b) our neighbourhood is mainly for singles or couples
c) we live close to the mountains
d) we love our neighbourhood
e) we do not want to live anywhere else.
We were shown an incredible apartment on the 12th floor, overlooking all of Bogotá, with a balcony whose wall just about reached my hip. Sure we want it, sure also that the rest of Bogotá wants it: like in any good capital we were 11th in the queue to see it, and after us at least 6 further interested parties followed. We are in the process of filling in a form, gathering papers from all across Colombia and generally following a bureaucratic and important sounding process.
More futile walking, phone calls and sunshine with wind that reminded me of the Dutch coast.
Sunday I spent working, drinking organic coffee and eating a giant patacón and brownie with ice-cream in Parque Virrey in a food festival called "AlimentArte". And walking. On the way there in the middle of 7th street, normally busy as any 6-lane street cutting across town can be. But Sunday until 2pm it is part of the network of "Ciclovía": streets that are closed to normal traffic so that Rolos (people from Bogotá) and all non-original Bogotá citizens can show off their dogs, kids, bikes, roller blades and running shoes.
The way back I was alone, enjoying wind and calm of 9th street, with its plants and colours, turning into warehouses next to shiny blocks of flats next to old European-style houses. That part of the 9th always reminds me of my old area in London around Borough Tube station.
At night: how to dismantle a flat in 3 hours. I discovered that my bed (which I do not own) can be separated into 7 pieces plus wooden planks, and finally figured out how to fold our folding chairs properly so that they stack neatly.
Our fridge (of which I own one third) is way too big.
This morning: cooked a breakfast for everyone with everything from the fridge. Tasty. Only missing: coffee, my "mokka" was already in some box.
Then ordered a truck. Will I ever get over the fact how damn cheap labour is around here? Amazing: you order a proper truck with driver and helper by calling the taxi number.
Truck loaded with JuanK sharing a space in the back with the helper boy to take Jenn to her new room, and the rest of the stuff to Iván's house across town. His family now has to deal with the property (more or less neatly packed in Carulla and other assorted plastic bags) of three displaced MC members. Including oversized fridge, 7 pieces of my bed, 5 pieces of Pipe's bed, folded and stacked chairs and table. Jenn's room is adorned by mountains of blankets, left-over food, and the glass part of the fridge (the part that covers the vegetable drawers on the bottom).
Then back to our favourite neighbourhood, finding another flat we really want, up just on the corner of 1st street, view of mountains, a ruin that they never finished building, and a flashy urban development squashed against trees and brush. Now in a second version of bureaucratic process that sounds important and involves papers sent across the country to be signed in different places by different people.
I am now officially adopted by Iván until we can move into a home. MC life out of a suitcase.
That way we found four apartments in our neighbourhood and confirmed that
a) our neighbourhood is expensive (well at least most of it)
b) our neighbourhood is mainly for singles or couples
c) we live close to the mountains
d) we love our neighbourhood
e) we do not want to live anywhere else.
We were shown an incredible apartment on the 12th floor, overlooking all of Bogotá, with a balcony whose wall just about reached my hip. Sure we want it, sure also that the rest of Bogotá wants it: like in any good capital we were 11th in the queue to see it, and after us at least 6 further interested parties followed. We are in the process of filling in a form, gathering papers from all across Colombia and generally following a bureaucratic and important sounding process.
More futile walking, phone calls and sunshine with wind that reminded me of the Dutch coast.
Sunday I spent working, drinking organic coffee and eating a giant patacón and brownie with ice-cream in Parque Virrey in a food festival called "AlimentArte". And walking. On the way there in the middle of 7th street, normally busy as any 6-lane street cutting across town can be. But Sunday until 2pm it is part of the network of "Ciclovía": streets that are closed to normal traffic so that Rolos (people from Bogotá) and all non-original Bogotá citizens can show off their dogs, kids, bikes, roller blades and running shoes.
The way back I was alone, enjoying wind and calm of 9th street, with its plants and colours, turning into warehouses next to shiny blocks of flats next to old European-style houses. That part of the 9th always reminds me of my old area in London around Borough Tube station.
At night: how to dismantle a flat in 3 hours. I discovered that my bed (which I do not own) can be separated into 7 pieces plus wooden planks, and finally figured out how to fold our folding chairs properly so that they stack neatly.
Our fridge (of which I own one third) is way too big.
This morning: cooked a breakfast for everyone with everything from the fridge. Tasty. Only missing: coffee, my "mokka" was already in some box.
Then ordered a truck. Will I ever get over the fact how damn cheap labour is around here? Amazing: you order a proper truck with driver and helper by calling the taxi number.
Truck loaded with JuanK sharing a space in the back with the helper boy to take Jenn to her new room, and the rest of the stuff to Iván's house across town. His family now has to deal with the property (more or less neatly packed in Carulla and other assorted plastic bags) of three displaced MC members. Including oversized fridge, 7 pieces of my bed, 5 pieces of Pipe's bed, folded and stacked chairs and table. Jenn's room is adorned by mountains of blankets, left-over food, and the glass part of the fridge (the part that covers the vegetable drawers on the bottom).
Then back to our favourite neighbourhood, finding another flat we really want, up just on the corner of 1st street, view of mountains, a ruin that they never finished building, and a flashy urban development squashed against trees and brush. Now in a second version of bureaucratic process that sounds important and involves papers sent across the country to be signed in different places by different people.
I am now officially adopted by Iván until we can move into a home. MC life out of a suitcase.
