This morning as I reluctantly pulled myself out of bed just to be stood up on a skype call, I thought to myself, “at least I’m in the land where hot showers are dependable.”
No such luck. I have discovered that the shower in my new home—in the belly of the beast, home of the Washington Concensus—likes very much to vascillate every 3 seconds or so, between what might be described as “cool” and “really freaking hot.”
Psht. I might as well be in La Paz then.
I would have 15 Bs lunches. Any pirata I could think of. A sunny afternoon on the roof. T’tkos mystery drinks. The excitement of dodging left turns. Api with Ramiro. Authentic salteñas. A visit to my favorite laundry man. My boy Sammy. Cebras. A cab ride to Zona Sur. Los Auténticos Decadentes. Lucha libre. Telephone calls instead of Skype.
But here I have some great things too. Phô. Fast internet. Cool nights in the garden. Maker’s Mark. The excitement of dodging undergrads. Wine with my roommates. Authentic tacos. Laundry that takes 2 hours instead of 36. My cohort. Leap. Rides home with the windows down. Wilson Phillips. Low altitude footie. Telephone calls instead of Skype.
