|
|
|
|
|
|
|
| r parrish | profile | all galleries >> Bogota Blog | tree view | thumbnails | slideshow |
This mini adventure began last week with an email I subscribe to from Travelzoo, a website that discovers travel deals. For the past six years I have longingly read about the 20 adventures a week that we would be unable to utilize because of work obligations. These proposals are all of the last-minute type. This particular link offered travel from Ft. Lauderdale to Nassau in the Bahamas for $79 ppdo (per person double occupancy). It was even round trip! Ann and I began our usual online research.
The Regal Empress is a small ship by today’s plastic and aluminum, floating mega hotel standards of the Carnival, Norwegian, and Royal Caribbean ilk. Total capacity is 1190 which sounded like a lot to us until we read that some vessels can carry over 5000. Since the ship was constructed in Glasgow, Scotland, Ann loved it no matter what it looked like or that that it was built very shortly after we were born, and boy was that was a long time ago! Inlaid wood paneling adorned the passageways and chandeliers hung in the dining room. Art Deco posters added to the nostalgia factor. Actually it was quite the elegant ship even if somewhat out of style in the glitz of the new millennium.
Never ones to pass up a shot at bargain we bit at the $79 each fare linked from Travelzoo. Now, realize that this included two nights on the ship, two wonderful five course, white tablecloth dinners, two full breakfasts, one lunch and don’t forget, a day in the Bahamas. The ship had a swimming pool, two Jacuzzis, a casino, a live musical revue each night after dinner, a midnight buffet and enough alcohol to sink the ship even if it was extra. I must admit there were some added charges that upped the final bill: port taxes, fuel surcharge, mandatory tipping and parking. We finished at $125 each.
We had, at this price, the least expensive stateroom possible but it was on the top deck. It was an interior room with no window, of course, and no TV (all other rooms had one). But the bonus was that we scored bunk beds! Oh well, perfection does come with a price, right? In Nassau harbor our ship was docked next to a “real” cruise ship. Our total height did not even rise to the level of their lifeboat deck. Then their six stories of staterooms with balconies began, heading up to the sky. Talk about ship size envy! Also, the first night before dinner we had some rough seas. An old, small ship does not have the advantage of having the displacement of an aircraft carrier sized cruise ship with new state of the art stabilizers. Fortunately this only lasted about 90 minutes (for Ann’s sake) but it was an interesting 90 minutes.
The cruise was a winner. Although it could be called “cruising lite”, we had a ball. The food was very well prepared (even if not gourmet, like Ann cooks!) with the waiters and bus men professionally exacting but very humorous. The evening entertainment was delightful and the cruise staff top-notch. I was really quite impressed. To make it even better there were a total of 300 passengers (out of a max of almost 1200 possible) on the ship with a staff and crew of 349. Rather nice ratio. This made boarding and disembarking a snap. On the ship we jacuzzed, sun bathed, read, and ate, fitting in well with the other white-haired folk. Unbelievably, I ordered only one drink in those two days, a red wine with dinner the first night. Perhaps it was the continual gross caloric intake that made alcohol less appealing than on an empty stomach.
Lunch in Nassau was at Senor Frog’s, an adventure on the Nassau waterfront. Having never been to one before, we were amazed but enjoyed the free-wheeling, rollicking, loud, party atmosphere. A Congo line soon formed (for a free shot of booze) led by the DJ snaking around the restaurant with a barmaid squirting shots of alcohol into the voracious open mouths of the already sobriety challenged Congo liners. It was good times on the deck overlooking the harbor feeling in our 20s again. I thought the Bahamanian beer, Kalik, served there was much better than Corona but perhaps I was merely caught up in the moment. All of this good energy did not come cheap – though well worth it.
Despite overpriced “duty free” shops there is little of interest in Nassau except fishing and golf - of which we did neither. The highlight of the town was Ann getting her hair braided and beaded in the Caribbean style. Not all of it but about 12 strands. She hopes it to last at least until Bogota even though Love, her beader - a native with half red-orange hair, said it should last 6-8 weeks. I think it is bugging the sweet lady already. Trying to comb and use the curling iron around the braiding and beads cannot be easy.
We have been in contact with Mary and German. Apparently our dance card is rather full for the two weeks in Bogota. Unfortunately we are not going to make it to Cartagena this trip, although I do want to see this Caribbean harbor pirate town some time in the future. German I are going to play in a three day partner’s better ball golf tournament but not at his home course this Thursday, Friday and Saturday. Tomorrow I am playing with Nephew David and his Father-in-Law, Glen, as a warm up then dinner with David and Jen in the evening. We are off to Colombia on Monday.
The day started out with fighting the morning traffic and the Miami commuters with their usual antics to get to the Miami Airport. I will never complain about Seattle traffic again. This was at 6:30 in the morning. Normal people are asleep at 6:30 in the morning. Arriving at the airport, we found the lines at American Airlines to be very long – Miami is their South American hub - and Security was not that much better. Leaving Weston 3 ½ hours before we were to board (with a 45 minute commute) we made it to boarding with five minutes to spare. That certainly eliminated the “down time” waiting at the airport!
Arriving, passing through customs and getting luggage at the Bogota Airport was a snap. Mary had told us to utilize the airport porters to retrieve, transport the luggage and handle the scanning of the bags. We did. We met Mary and German outside the airport and the porter put our luggage into the car. Off we went through downtown Bogota ending up at their apartment.
First impressions: A huge city of 8 million on a flat plain at an elevation of over 8000 feet. Mountains surround three quarters of the horizon. Some of these mountains are quite high. The climate is 65-75 degrees throughout the year with rain distinguishing the summer (more) from the winter (less). It is disconcerting to know that we are near the equator (4 degrees north latitude actually) and have little heat and humidity. It is like Los Angeles weather in the spring and fall except all year round. Tropical plants thrive even though the lows can drop into the high forties at night due to the elevation.
The other obvious realization is the acute need for more oxygen molecules here. This became obvious as soon as we were walking from the airplane to customs in the airport. The sprinting down the corridor with our carry on luggage lasted maybe fifty yards. The rest of the walk was at a leisurely pace. It was even nice to stand in line for customs. Usually I hate standing in lines.
The Pereira’s apartment is on the side of a high mountain rising from the city. Looking down to the center of town makes me realize that we must be at nearly 9000’ feet here. This makes laziness the preferred condition. Interestingly, German has at least six rounds of golf planned for me in the next twelve days – without carts. But, fortunately we will have caddies.
After watching the sunset (about 6:00 every day of the year) we drove down to the commercial area below the apartment for a look-around and dinner. One rule Mary makes is that visitors do nothing strenuous the first day and alcohol is a no-no. I was able to wear her down (I think with the continual whining and her watching me develop DTs made her realize the error of her ways). Ann and I were allowed a glass of wine with dinner. Also, light meals are the best after arriving. We ate at an outdoor patio restaurant and had arepas (Colombia’s version of a tostada) with toppings. We also sampled patacones, fried sweet plantains pounded thin again like a tostada with a toppings like a cheese-less pizza. Empanadas, fried coarse cornmeal mini bites wrapped around ground meat and potatoes, completed the tasting treat. All were very different but delicious.
Sleep came easily with only a few oxygen molecules in the room. We slept long and hard and are now ready to attack the city!
I am noticing that the lack of oxygen to my already simple brain is having its effect. Every third word I type is misspelled and some sentences make no sense at all after reading them. Much editing is necessary. Wait, that is no different than at sea level.
German came back from his office at about 11am and off we went to his golf club, Club Campestre Guaymaral (Why-mar-all) for my first ever round of Colombian golf. Now this is an experience everyone should have - several times a week minimum.
First we sat down at the men’s bar and ordered lunch. Waiting for the food German took me on a tour of the golf, tennis, pool area, equestrian and family facilities. Back at the bar the food was there: House made soup, magnificent side salad and a proper lunch sized, grilled flank steak.
After filling our stomachs we walked out to the first tee. It was just the two of us. Since there were no golf carts in sight (none used on the course, actually) we hired our caddies. Jhon was my caddie (That is NOT a typo). He spoke EXACTLY as much English as I spoke Spanish. Since I needed to ask for my club for each shot I quickly remembered: Uno, dos, tres up to my Spanish numerical limit, nuevo. This was perfect since I only have nine irons and a one and three wood. The sand wedge and pitching wedge were easily mastered by saying, “Sand and pitch-eh respectively. Jhon knew when I was going to putt so no issues there. The utility/hybrid club was problematic.
Yardage to the flag was a tad bit more difficult. I was in good shape if the hole as less than nine yards away. Much larger numbers were necessary here, though. We developed a sign language with each finger meaning ten yards. So eight fingers meant eighty yards and a word like “cent” something followed by two fingers meant 120 yards (Yes, yards are used, not meters). This worked well until I looked carefully on the back nine at his fingers as he was giving me my yardage. Dear Jhon did not use his thumb. So, five fingers on one hand and three on another should be eighty yards. In reality it was four fingers on one hand and three on another meaning seventy yards. Oh well, I am not that good that it mattered anyhow.
For his service I gave him $40,000 (20 USD). I shot an 83 in an amazing less than 3 hour, walking, and low oxygen round. Wow, was I tired when we finished. I believed the thin air was not a problem until the two times we played through a slower group. Rushing and walking fast winded me enough that the next hole both times resulted in a weak-effort double bogey. But at 72 hours there is little altitude problem. The sun was unrelenting since we were 8000 feet closer to the sun even though the temperature was only 75 degrees.
After the round we had a Club de Colombia beer which comes with a shot glass of lemon concentrate. This is poured into the glass of beer in the amount personally desired. We imbibed on the deck overlooking the course. Next on the agenda was the steam room. After my tired old-man muscles relaxed we went to a warm room with lounge chairs. There we lazed to an extent unknown to my body. Just before sleep overcame me we got up, took a shower, put on our clothes and drove the 25 minutes back to the apartment.
{Ann now} Mary and I attended an American Women’s Club meeting this morning, where I met two dozen of Mary’s friends and acquaintances and watched a Dior cosmetics demonstration. There was a drawing for door prizes and I won a $75 bottle of wrinkle remover! Of course I have no need for it, so Mary and I will share it for the fortnight and both of us will be irresistibly made over by the time I leave. The AWC does lots of good works and Mary served as its president a year or so ago. It is interesting to see how expats work to fit into their community, and to help those who are in need.
In the afternoon, we went down to the village of Usaquen (where the apartment is located) and window-shopped, enjoying late lunch at a local Italian restaurant, secure in the knowledge that the men would return late, well-fed and relaxed. The only snag was that they came home early, expecting to be fed. Oh well, communication needs work—they settled for scrambled eggs.
Tomorrow we head into the Colombian hinterlands for a two day road trip deep into the mountains. No internet and no computer. Life will be like the early 1990s! Well, not exactly, I will have my Ipod shuffle.
About an hour out of town we stopped at Puente de Boyacá, the site of Simon Bolivar’s defeat of the Spanish gaining independence for Colombia in 1819. [Ann was in heaven]. There German paid for three of us to use the toilets there (25 cents each). Mary did not use the facilities and German insists she gets a free visit in the future. After a lunch in the town of Duitama and sampling for the first time robalo, a fish of the area, we continued on to Lago de Tota. This is a large lake 160 miles from Bogotá. The two lane road, with a multitude of trucks traveling at a rather not-rapid rate of speed, made for slow travel. Up over a mountain pass with an elevation in excess of 10,000 feet we dropped down about five hundred feet to our hotel, The Pozo Azul Resort – ending with a final half a mile down a single track, VERY deeply rut infested dirt road with a severe downward slope to the lake.
Now, this lake and hotel are not at the end of the world but, as the saying goes, you can see it from there. This is where the road ends. We were the only ones there that night and enjoyed the late afternoon and evening by relaxing, reading, watching a soccer match on a poor-reception TV and drinking Aguardente, the Colombian fire water, by the coal fire in the fireplace. This elevation really hit me hard. Even walking down to the lake, about 100 feet straight down and back, winded me like nothing I had experienced in Bogota.
Next morning we arose and after breakfast drove to three rural towns – Mongui, Nobsa and Villa de Leyva. Germán and I spent a lot of time watching the ladies shopping the local products in small shops. Mongui produces soccer balls, Nobsa is for wool and Villa de Leyva is an artistic community. Lunch was at the Duryelo Hotel on the second floor outside balcony overlooking the town and valley beyond. This day began a three day astronomy event and the town was filling up with tourists and their telescopes. The weather had turned cloudy – “sucks for them”, as Mary so eloquently put it.
We drove home in the dark following one slow moving truck after having just passed a slow moving truck on winding roads. Germán is a true professional at Colombian driving.
Today was the Saturday morning golf date with Germán and his group of 24. What an amazing experience. To say this weekly “tournament” is organized would be an understatement. Bets are made: individually against the field, as a four man team versus the other groups and each player can have a bet with any other or all of the other 23. Each group appears as an entourage as it moves down the fairway from the first tee with the eight – four golfers and four caddies in each pack. The true golf adventure begins after the round ends and bets are paid in the club bar over beers, chips, laughing, whining, gloating and the passing across the long table of huge denomination bills for small amounts. There are literally hundreds of bets that need figuring and paying. I shot an 80 and won $19,000 (8 USD)
Ann and Mary came to the club for a pedicure and to meet us after the round. From the club we drove to a restaurant for lunch. Reservations were for 3:00 and an absolute necessity. We drove to an area further north of town to the restaurant, Andres Carne de Res. This restaurant cannot be explained properly without having experienced it personally. My gosh, where to begin?
This is a Colombian steak house with a vaquero atmosphere of wood tables and benches. At three in the afternoon the place was crowded. The restaurant extends a full city block with almost no room to move between tables – which are in every conceivable nook and cranny. The décor is early junkyard done eclectically. There is not a space on the walls or room to hang anything more from the ceilings. A troupe of players performs a bullfight scene on the dance floor every hour or so mimicking the stylized Spanish event. There is a bull in costume, toreador, picador and Spanish senoritas with their fans with bold colored dresses. When not performing on one of the dance floors, they wander around the tables causing general confusion and hilarity. Raucous Colombian and salsa music plays continuously creating a party feel. After 9:00 or so this restaurant becomes a dance club and bar for the younger patrons with a cover charge.
We spent three and a half hours there with Mary and Germán, Bernardo, Blanca and their adult son Christian, and Arturo and Lisette with their adult daughter Lisa. The food was spectacular: Char broiled steaks and an assortment of appetizers, condiments and desserts of Colombian origin. Beer was in the form of Refajo – beer mixed in a pitcher with Colombiana, a local soft drink of rather interesting flavor. Also, the omnipresent Aguardente bottle appeared compliments of Germán. After the food, coffee, of course was served. This is not an inexpensive place to eat by Colombian standards. The total bill with tip was $650,000 or 310 USD for the ten of us. For 31 dollars per person for this excellent meal with constant entertainment was a steal by American standards. More so by being the guests of the Pereira clan.
Tomorrow will be another round of golf with Germán and the gang but this time at the second course, the more difficult one at his club.
The human body is an amazing wonder. Just one week ago exactly we arrived in town to gasping for air with every exertion at the new altitude. Now walking up hill at an elevation of 2500 feet higher my body had adapted to the point that it was no more exertion than climbing uphill at sea level - an absolutely amazing adaptation.
Needless to say the views over the sprawling city on this plain surrounded by these high mountains was breathtaking (but not literally!!). To the opposite side of the mountain began the high mountain jungle of Colombia. Not the Brazilian rain forest type but actually denser. I can see how the guerrilla and para military have been so difficult to control by the government forces.
A few thoughts on Bogota:
After the mountaintop adventure we went into town for lunch and shopping. Bogota is a vibrant city with modern skyscrapers, tree lined avenues, multi-level shopping centers with upscale shops from around the world. Also, McDonalds, TGI Fridays, Pizza Hut, etc are all here. Security, which was such an issue when we arrived, now seems to be in the background rather than in the forefront of our minds. Sure security is present in the parking lots of shopping centers and at the entrances. It is present at every apartment building, opening the gates into the parking, and on the streets. Visibility is the key here.
Walking down the street I feel as safe as if I were in Rome, Paris, New York City. Of course there are areas where more care is taken and some areas where one should not venture but that is no different than East LA or Compton in Southern California. But it is nothing like Seattle where concern for ones safety or security of ones house is far down on the list of daily concerns.
The rural areas are economically poor, that is for sure. Living conditions there are worse than can be found in the US. Sometimes houses are no more than huts with no amenities at all. The distinction between rich and poor is so much greater than in the US.
Today we are heading to the tropics. This requires only a two hour drive down from this plateau we are on to an elevation where heat and humidity are more reminiscent of an equatorial climate. Yes, golf is on the agenda, this time with the ladies.
Getting there was interesting. From the little town of Anapoima we got off the main road and drove for ten plus minutes down a narrow winding track to the hotel past jungle and fincas (farms). At one time this little road was almost the demise of the resort – it is the only road to the resort, ending there. Being in a lonely isolated place, the fear of guerrilla road blocks was real. Now the road is safe and the resort is doing quite well. I hoped Mary and German were correct about this.
This is a hotel resort in the mountain jungle two and a half hours west of Bogota. Included are a huge pool, championship and executive golf courses, tennis, horseback riding, children’s playgrounds, a resident naturalist, and more than enough employees to satisfy our every whim. There were only a few of the rooms being used on this particular Tuesday night.
Our first impression was heat. Real heat. The temperature when we arrived was 91 degrees. The sun was unimpeded by clouds and the humidity was certainly present. After settling into the room German and I set off for golf. Ann and Mary followed us in a cart for three holes until the heat got to Dear Ann; actually the pool was calling to her. Of course German and I also took a cart. After nine holes I was spent – physically and mentally. The heat and humidity won; I lost.
We went to the hotel after nine holes. I was seduced by the huge pool with crystal clear water, Jacuzzi jets and the thought of a Club Colombia cerveza. I quickly changed into my swimming suit and was in the water cooling my core temperature waiting for the beer before I knew it. German asked if I wanted to play the second nine, “NO”. He and Mary played the back nine with Mary taking my place. Ann and I relaxed by the pool for the rest of the afternoon. This is not usually my style to enjoy resort life but this was just magnificent.
Sitting on the deck surrounding the pool I could look out past the zero horizon pool edge to see the thick, green jungle and high, sharply pointed mountain crests beyond. I never thought I would be lounging in a pool carved out of the mountain jungle of central Colombia.
Before dinner German had gone to the bar and brought a bottle of Aguardiente back to the room. On their deck overlooking the jungle, the bottle’s contents did not last long. The four of us teamed up against that bottle and the outcome was never in doubt. Perhaps that was a contributing factor in all four of us hitting the bed very soon after dinner.
Today was just as degenerate - getting up for coffee and breakfast then off to the golf course. The four of us played the nine hole par three executive course, or as Ann calls it, the “baby” course. The little lady had two pars and seemed to be getting serious about this idiotic game. For her mental health, though, she should not get hooked. Mary and German went off to the “big boy” course for nine more holes. Ann wanted more (a very bad sign of the golf illness overcoming her) so we played four more holes. More lounging by the pool was followed by lunch in the open air, thatch roofed, hotel restaurant where we ate dinner the night before.
On the ride home we left heat of 93 degrees. By the time we had risen to the top of the pass some 55 minutes and 30 winding miles later the temperature was 64 degrees. What a relief.
Tomorrow German and I play the first round of the three day golf tournament. There is a snag. Isn’t there always a snag of some sort? Get this, the first Thursday of February is “Nobody can drive a car in Bogota day” or some such title. The history of this insanity began in a city in France in 1996 with over 700 towns now participating as of 2000, including Bogota. Taxis and busses rule the day as the only method of transportation. This ban is in effect from 6:30 am until 7:30 pm.
The golf course for the tournament is 45 minutes out of town over the mountains to the east. German called today for a taxi but never got a confirmation callback from the taxi company – think they might be busy tomorrow?? We will get there somehow but that is not my problem. Ann and Mary will spend the day at the Pereira’s club, Guaymaral, riding a courtesy bus provided by the club. Oh no, more golf for Ann – and massage, and manicure and lunch.
The “no driving day” was solved because we teed off at 7:30 am. We left prior to the start. Remember this occurs between 6:30 am and 7:30 pm on the first Thursday each February. The golf course was 30 minutes outside the Bogota city limits. This ban only applies within the city limits.
Pica y Placa (Peak driving times and License Plate) is the selective day driving plan in effect each weekday year round between the hours of 6:00 am and 9:00 am and then again between 4:00 pm and 7:00 pm to ease commuter traffic. Whether a car can be driven between these hours is determined by the last digit on the car’s license plate. However this is constructed the final analysis is that a car cannot be driven within these hours two days every week. The days of the week for the car change each year.
We took the Pica y Placa limited car because we would be out of the city limits toward the golf course before 6:00 am (we left at 5:45) and the car would be driven back the next day, after leaving it at the golf course overnight. Oddly, with “No driving day” the Pica y Placa was still in effect from 6:00 am - 6:30 am when the total ban started. Confused yet? I was. This solved the gettin’ there but the comin’ back problem would be on one of the busses the tournament hired. One stop was at German’s city club, Nogal. But that story is two paragraphs below.
As an aside, we finished the first day in a tie for 3rd place in the net division. We enjoyed the team we played with – a father and adult son. Senor Sanchez, the father, is a Bogota attorney. He asked us if we needed a ride back into town. His car is not subject to either Pica y Placa or “No cars day” because it is a bulletproof car. I have never ridden in a bulletproof car. Although feeling REALLY safe from the non-existent guerrilla forces or the Para-military on the road, it is no different. I felt VERY important though!
We were dropped off at German’s Club Nogal. This is a social/business club on twelve floors of its own building. German says this is the most prestigious club in town. Since Alvaro Uribe, the present President of Colombia, is a member, maybe so. Included in this club is a full gym with locker facilities, a steam room with a super hot steam room off the main steam room, massage room and barber shop. Sports rooms include a multitude of squash courts, a huge swimming pool with separate Jacuzzis, bowling alleys, pistol shooting range and a billiards room with at least five tables. Everywhere are places to eat from quick cafes to a fancy coat and tie restaurant with everything in between. There is also a library, art gallery, a small Starbucks type coffee place, several bars, a full disco and even a wine “cave”. Also within the club is a 35 room hotel for guests of members. Conference rooms abound, large and small, for the business meetings of the members.
A club like this in a security conscious country like Colombia is very careful about who enters. Five or so years ago a bomb was exploded on a Friday night in the parking garage by extremists, destroying four floors and killing 35 people including those in a child’s birthday party. Security is no joke here. This is how I entered the club: All hand bags, sports bags or purses are put into an airport type scanner. Next is a personal scanner to walk through also like at an airport which is set to a very sensitive level. Now the security gets serious. I walked up to the counter where German signed me in as his guest. My driver’s license information was copied, my picture taken and I was asked to place my finger on a digital fingerprint scanner. The man behind the counter said, Thank you, and I was finally in.
After a tour of the club, a steam, a shower and a “lunch” at 5:00 pm in the restaurant overlooking the city, it was time to get home to see the ladies. Being a “no drive day” (remember?) it was still before its ending at 7:30 but it didn’t matter since we had no car anyhow. In a city with 80,000 taxis (65,000 registered) it should not be a problem getting a cab. Heck, New York City has only around 15,000 with a much larger population (These figures are from my “new best friend” and golfing buddy, “Chiqui” Martinez). With no one able to drive, EVERY taxi was in use as were the bursting-at-the-seams busses. German, being German, got a cab in less than two minutes with others waiting as we walked up. It took his brother 30 minutes to get one an hour later at the same place.
Mary and I had a hard day, too. We got a ride with Blanca, Mary’s sister-in-law, who drove us down the hill to the shopping mall to catch the Guaymaral Club’s special bus. Blanca dropped us a block from the mall, and sneaked her car back up the hill to avoid police detection, then jogged back down the mall to join us. The bus arrived and drove quickly to the club, surrounded by happily fast moving taxis and buses. We played nine holes—7.5 for me before my swing gave out—with caddies—a wonderful addition. This was followed by a massage, shower, and fancy lunch with Mary’s delightful friends. No one was driving today, so the dining room was one big party. We got on the bus at 6 and got home very quickly. German sneaked down the hill and picked us up before he was detected. Living without a car one day a year can be a “challenge”.)
As you can easily tell it is not easy being here in Bogota. Life is SO hard…
Yesterday German and I completed our three day golf tournament at La Pradera Golf Club. I had a wonderful time. The different golfers we played with each day were so nice to the “Gringo”. One, who spoke wonderful English, told me he had spent his senior year in high school in Seattle in 1989, another spent four years in Toronto and likewise spoke perfect English.
We finished the tournament with German playing wonderful golf and me merely going along for the ride (actually along for the walk). German played well enough for us to each win, in bets, significantly more than the entry fee for the tournament. That is a nice bonus for our trip – a free tournament. The highlight of the golf was the second day. I was treated to the South American intestinal bug that seemed to be going around. Each swing was a challenge – keeping my butt cheeks FIRMLY together to prevent disaster and then avoiding eruption from the other end due to nausea from the twisting motion of the swing. To add to this the walking made me dizzy and disoriented in the heat and sun. The one good thing was the alternate shot format that day, meaning I would take a shot then German would hit the next shot. In reality, though, German would make a good shot then I would screw it up then German would recover with his shot. You get the idea.
Last night we went out to dinner. We stopped first at a patio bar at Parque 93, a block of city park surrounded by restaurants. It’s a happenin’ hip area of the city. We were there early, at 7:30 pm, before any real happening happened. Ann learned that a girlie lemonchello martini consists of alcohol mixed with alcohol then chilled to make it not taste that way AND then gives a Mike Tyson like punch at 8000 feet elevation.
We ate dinner in another area of town at the Peruvian restaurant, Nazca, with an upscale modern decor. Wow, that is some different food. The signature dish of Peru is ceviche, or cebiche in Espanol. You have never eaten ceviche unless you have eaten true Peruvian ceviche. There are many different kinds. We had two for appetizers - one with langoustine and yucca and the other with corvina (Black Sea Bass) and yucca. Before ordering, the owner of the restaurant came over to help us with the entrees. He spoke perfect English and described the different dishes to us in detail, obviously more for Ann and me than for Mary and German. He changed the entrée that Mary and I ordered to make it more authentically Peruvian. Pieces of beef tenderloin of beef flavored with cumin were accompanied by croquettes of rice, beans, and more cumin. Ann had a Japanese style Peruvian fish dish. The Oriental influence in Peru is odd but goes far back. German had lamb chops with Peruvian beans. The Chilean wine complimented the meal perfectly. Everything was delicious, visually appealing and expertly prepared. Nazca was a perfect choice for what has become a tradition for the four of us: a farewell dinner at an unusual, chic restaurant.
Today is Super Bowl Sunday. Our breakfast consisted of scrambled eggs, papaya, fresh-squeezed orange juice and freshly-made arepas, a typical Colombian thick, grilled corn meal cake with cheese disc that I have come to adore. Mary demonstrated the technique and we both made some of the cakes, so we can try to duplicate them at home. After a quick trip to the Sunday artisans market here in Usaquen, we will go to Bernie and Blanca’s for a late lunch and then afterwards watch the Game there. All of the brothers, wives, and a few of the kids will be there along with Lenore, their mother.
Tomorrow our flight is at 8:55 am (What was I thinking?). We have to get up at least an hour before morning to make the flight. One night in Weston then back to Seattle on Tuesday.