Colombia

As the Colombian day was starting, I was seated in my sheltered reality, here they call it Disneyland, having breakfast. My conversations here are a fifty fifty mix of fixing meanings and inexactities. In other words they don't speak English and I understand a little Spanish. OK, so I was preparing my next meeting based on this official paper in Spanish. Quite naturally I was afraid. I did not have an exact idea about "their" expectations. On the back of my mind, a constant stress buzz. Now this noise that prevented me from being my beatiful relaxed confident self was only partly work related. As many of you know I don't hold plastic, and the money you need for basics here, including the accommodation in a five star hotel, can amount to something really appealing to regular street huslers. Thinking about it, I like this contradictory mix of glitz and crass. I have already stated this, I am a luxury poor man. And as I was finishing breakfast, I tried to summarize my four days in this contry so far. So: good Colombian coffee, nice smiling people enjoying my presentation, less English that I could deal with, ripp-off exchange rate in the otherwise posh hotel, having your finger print taken at the regular exchange office, plus the xerox of your passport, whatever they are going to use those for, I am not even going into telling you about my attempt to exchange money with Bancolombia, where they asked for a detailed form, passport and a copy, it was like submitting a regular application to getting a loan, adults with scary dental braces, stiff upper lip business men and women having power breakfast at seven in the morning, Candelaria, where it is not safe to wonder with your camera out, but it hurts so much more because every house is piece of history certified with a marble plaque.