Duuude!!!!

It was like coming out of a coma. Small knocks in my dreams brough me out of a slumber that made me feel like a brick on valium, buried under the sand at the bottom of the ocean. Cata was at the door, and behind her was the familiar looking face of a person i did not know.

“Hola, como estas?”

The words came almost automatically out of my mouth, as if I had been meditating on them in my sleep.

“Baby, it’s 2pm. Do you want to get up?”

“Unngghh….2 pee emm…unngghh….”

“My mum is cooking a Colombian lun-…”

“I’m up.”

“OK, baby, see you downstairs.”

With the familiar face giggling down the stairs, I got myself up, feeling like snow white, took a slash and headed downstairs.

Whatever cata’s mum was cooking, it smelled damn good. When I got down to the kitchen/dining area Consuelo greeted me with a big, friendly “buenas tardes!!” and proceeded to show me what was on the menu, with the help of a kind translation from Cata. It was a dish called Ajiacu, a creamy stew/soup made with corn, coriander, chicken, vegies and three types of potatoes. The idea is that soft an hard potatoes ore used so that the soft ones melt away to thicken the broth and the hard ones are left to munch on.

This shit looked so good and my stomach felt like it was collapsing on itself. All I could do was drool and respond to Consuelos spanish with a couple of feeble “muy rico”s.

After I had mopped up the drool puddle, I was introduced to Cata’s cousin Adri, the familiar face that had been giggling at me in the stairs. Adri was lovely, as I was coming to expect from from members of Cata’s family, except that she was a complete piss taker. We sat down to lunch and began to chat. Whenever I asker her to repeat somthing more slowly she would respond by doing that exaggerated slow-talking-to-a-retard thing that people love to do. Cata and Consuelo thought this was hilarious, so all I could do was suck it up.

We finished our delicious lunch with at least a bit of my dignity in tact, and set out around the corner to get me a haircut and cata her hair done and nails did. Yeah. The Hairdressers was only around the corner but, fuck, I’ve seen less interesting things in a whole week in Melbourne. First off there is a dude cruising around with a megaphone selling books to anyone who’s keen, then there’s a FUCKING HORSE DRAWN CART, in the posh area of bogota mind you, collecting cardboard and aluminium cans and, finally, the PSYCHOTIC TAXI’S. FUUUUCCCCKKKKKK!!!!

I felt like I was on mars and I had’nt even left their street yet. But, seriously, the drivers here, not just the taxi’s, are completely out to lunch. Nobody slows down at intersections and pedestrians are just an annoying obstacle. Road rules seem to be just a rough guide to go buy and, really, noone gives a shit about them. Unless you have lived here your whole life, do not attempt to drive here. The roads are fucked as well and full of pot-holes and street signs dont exist, so it’s very possible that you will crash and die or get lost and end up in some fucked up Barrio and get car-jacked.

For me, this was the first culture shock, we-aint-in-kansa-anymore moment. Not that it was bad, on the contrary, it was fucking cool. You have to get a fucking permit and spend a week in OH&S training before you can even jack-off in Australia without getting fined for it, so it was cool to be in a place where the idea of regimented protocol is a joke.

When we got to the hairdressers, Cata was in the chair in a fucking instant. It’s crazy expensive, especially for an international student, to get the full treatment at a beauticians in Australia, and Cata had been hanging for this something stupid. As i sat on the couch next to Adri and watched Cata get pampered, it was easy to tell that for her this was the definition of bliss. Cata is only about 4 foot something, but in Oz she worked like a Ox on speed and often came home completely knackered and fed up, so to see her here with one person doing her nails, another her hair and one more serving her hot tea, gave me big ol’ case of the warm and fuzzies.

I was up next, and just a little worried about what the outcome would be. I very rarely get my hair cut by a professional, preferring to do it at home myself with a pair of clippers then letting it grow out til I cant stand it anymore. So here, out of my element and not speaking the language I had to leave it up the Gods.

“Largo aqui,” I said pointing to the top of my head.

“y menos aqui, aqui y aqui. Gracias.”

Then it was over to the Maestro.

All in all he did a pretty sweet job, gesticulating and pointing when my spanish skills failed, which was most of the time, and I came out of there looking pretty fucking sexy if I do say so myself.

As Cata was still gettting the princess treatment, Adri and I decided to head back home where, apparently, Cata’s Aunty Mona and Uncle Fernando were waiting. Cata’s Dad answered the door, greeted me and commented on my new hair do (something about mierde?) and then introduced me to Mona and Fernando.

Again, they were super fucking nice, and were extremely patient with my slippery grasp of the spanish language. This was my first conversation without the safety net of Catalina there to bail me out, and I think i did pretty well considering I have never had a formal lesson. My advice is that when in doubt gesticulate, point and draw pictures in the air with your fingers.

Pretty soon Cata arraived home and we all sat down to finish off the rest of the Ajiacu for dinner. During dinner cata informed me that the whole works at the hairdressers: my haircut, cata’s too, plus her finger and toenails; had only cost us about AU$30!

Fuck Yeah!!

The jet lag and lack of sleep was beginning to work away on me again and so shortly after Gabriella got home from uni (colombians study like the chinese gamble) we had a small chat and some more cheese and chocolate and I then went to bed and drifted off into another drug-like slumber, ready for a new day of dodging cars and eating.

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