Plans. Ha. Have you heard of them? Seriously, who DOES that? Because when one attempts to defy the chaos of the Universe and actually makes what is commonly referred to as a “plan,” the Universe subsequently laughs in one’s face.
Case in point: the first day of MEAE, a farming trip I may remind you, was the very last day of harvest, and the last day of our trip was the first day of spring. Erin and I were on a farming trip. In winter. The ANTI-growing season. Plans. Please.
So chaos has once again reared her beautiful but oh so mysterious head and brought me to Bogot¬á. An offhand comment lead to information about an internship lead to me sending my resume lead to me making flight plans less than a month before takeoff. When I was first offered the position, I started with the pro and cons lists and the lamenting and the what-about-this-ing, and then I just kind of stopped. Done thinking. I’m going to Colombia.
So here I am, creating a little life for myself in an apartment in Teusaquillo (a barrio in Bogotá which I still can’t pronounce without choking on my tongue). It’s only been a week—hardly enough time to make an assessment—but so far so good. I’ve been keeping busy: I’ve already checked out the nightlife, been to a dinner party, and visited a friend that I know from Ecuador (we did yoga in the mountains…super chevere!). I’ve walked the dogs with my actress roommate Ella and mastered public transportation (well, mastered might be a bit strong… “not died on” may be more accurate). Work is fascinating—mostly because I am doing lots of translating, for which I am supremely underequipped. I make an ass out of myself daily, actually, but I don’t mind. The gringa is here for everyone’s entertainment, especially the incredibly sweet people in my office.
Oh, and a word about what actually brought me here. I have a three month internship with Kidsave, which helps older kids get adopted through a host program. They both bring kids from Colombia (and other countries) to the states for a five-week summer program, and create weekend host family connections in the home country. The weekend host family model has been adopted in Los Angeles, as well. I am the liaison between the Los Angeles office and the Bogota office, which basically means I translate (horribly) emails and documents so that everybody is on the same page. With great power, comes great responsibility. Clearly Uncle Ben was speaking about translation.
So that’s that friends and countrypeople. One of my housedogs (whose name I don’t know because I already asked Ella like six million times and I can’t remember so I’m just going to wait for her to call him something other than “Bebe” y “Bonito”) is sleeping next to me on the bed and my shoes still haven’t dried after getting soaked two days ago in the constant rain that they have here. I am stoked.