I just returned from a party that was for a lovely friend who I have known for nearly 4 months. Here, in Bogota, I think I live in "hyper-time." My slow lazy life that I once knew is now gone. I am happy, but sometimes I feel that the life I once had, where I drifted along in a row boat without oars would be nice to have once in awhile. Now I feel like I'm on a cigarette boat in the middle of a tornado.
I got up at 5 am for a hike up a mountain with a friend whom I begged to take me there. She says the hike will beat my butt and with me eating all these "arepas", fresh pineapples, and drinking "avenas", I need a little beating on the side of a mountain.
The Regional Security Office at the United States Embassy must be a dreary place to work at. Every day the employees have to listen to terrible accounts of how someone almost got run over a donkey and cart or how they had to drive through Bogota traffic blindfolded because they were too scared to look. The RSO warns us about what not to do in Bogota, like drink lots of beer and then visit tourist traps.
I think they also warned us about going outside of Bogota to the country. They didn't warn us about going on a trail up the side of a mountain probably because they didn't think we could hack the elevation. I mean, since Bogota is already over 8,000 feet in the mountains, who would be stupid enough to volunteer to go even higher.
I am not saying that I am stupid, I just think that the RSO (Regional Security Office) thinks that we Americans wouldn't be that stupid, but here we are, pushing our heart and leg muscles to the max just to walk up a beautiful trail alongside a mountain.
Granted, it's worth it. The hike, that is. Bogota is a BIG city and I have only lived in Washington DC which feels 1/4th the size. I've visited NYC. I have never lived in such a big city with so many people so it's nice to take a little break and get away from it. Sometimes, on the trail, the sounds of the city are completely gone and all I hear are the trees rubbing back and forth. It sounds like some troll is opening and closing the door to his little cave.
I've finally accepted that no two journeys are alike. And of course, "...the best laid schemes of mice and men Go Often Askew" as Robert Burns once wrote. "It is what it is" Plato said and I often say this, like every day. I wish I had started hiking before this month, but maybe my friend Karen thought I had enough on my plate (I still love you Karen) or that I just wasn't in shape after having Emma.
At any moment, there can be crazy things going on, like my daughter eating dirt from a plant or my son trying to skate off the side of a mountain. It's okay because there's alwasy tomorrow morning where I can go hike for two hours and forget about everything.
-typing with one hand or maybe a nose while the other hand(s) are holding my baby who thinks she can walk.
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