What WAS that low flying piece of extrañar-ness??!

Capricorn If you're tossed into some particularly vexing situations today, you can figure out what you need to do with a little concentration. Your mission is to sort the pros from the cons, and the answer will be clear. This sounds a lot easier than it is, however; it may take a few tries before it sticks. Write a list if that helps -- sometimes scripting your options makes things easier. Overall, if you can stick with your favorite people, you'll enjoy a very mellow and relaxing day.



Now I know that horoscopes are designed to appeal to the largest of audiences with their generalisations and meaninglessness, and I KNOW that every day for me throws me into a vexing situation or two... but this was just stupid accurate. I had to run over here to get some comforting words (I hoped, and was satisfied) from my friends and loved ones (here I bloody go!) ... because I was all cry-baby just earlier and I didn't want my family to see my red eyes (cos I'm a man and have to be tough!... yep). This day wasn't particularly ... yes it was. I was going to say that my situations were just the last straw, but it was a little more than that. I didn't get robbed, I'm not injured, I'm not in any imminent danger, but my emotional state got a bashing from bureaucracy this morning and of course the lack of Spanish didn't help, however there were some good souls who, just for the warm fuzzy, decided to direct me and speak very slowly indeed. But one situation blew everything out of the water, which, when they happen, make me feel like coming home for a little while then I get a burst of clarity and strength and push through. AnyHOO! Just thought I'd share some obscurity with youse.

I'll be sure to get you some photos of my extraordinarily left actions with you soon.

Love,

Your overly sensitive FNBC.

Ahh, computer loves me today...

This is the favourite of mine with the kids playing soccer in the dust.
This is my kitchen table, where I'm about to go have almuerzo. Fatima, the matriarch and superbly hospitable jill-o-all-trades, about to carve up the Spinach and mince carne pie (bloody delicious - Fiona, Fatima is writing out the recipe for you... or me!), our 4 week Spanish learner from Switzerland (fine specimen of the Euros, we're fine friends!), Gonzalo, the very helpful, scientific, artistic fellow that Fiona thinks sounds very cute on the phone, and Gonzalito, a cool little fella with a hell of a brain. I usually sit at the end of the table near the fridge. How very convivial we all look don't you think?! We have another Bolivian fellow living with us; Fernando is a lawyer volunteering with the Quechuan communities - a really sincere, softly spoken guy who I like alot.

Now:
It starts...

What?

Michael's rekindled love affair... but where's Fiona!?? Well, she may not mind too much... one can't get this subject of desire drunk, nor take it to bed (actually you can do the latter, but with limited satisfaction). There's not much point giving flowers but I do think we'll be going everywhere together (so flexible and accessible!), such is my head-over-heelsness.

If anyone wants to contact me, my new mobile is as follows:

722 11 090

My estudiante works at Entel (the overpowering telecommunications company here) and got me a good deal with an easy-to-remember number. Ariane, I'll try to work out a word/phrase for you. Hmm... just realised that neither the 0s or the 1s have letters with them... PAC110Z0? 0HOW0K0JET was better.

Nup, the upload didn't work, but you DO get to hear me winge...

This is just an extra blog in the hope that the photos upload this time round.

The first is the beautiful looking roads that I discussed before, the second is the little kids playing "Look at me! I'm a bus driver!" on the safe (for once) roads, and the third is a favourite of mine, taken the same day, with sufferin' soccerations in the dust near the lake. We wondered how difficult it would be to run around on the hot day we had, let alone breath in all that dust as well, and it was generally agreed that it probably wasn't just good clean dirt either...

Well, that's all... NO it's not!

I've had a hell of a time getting this visa stuff in order (and I don't mean "hell of a time" to be "gee, look at how much fun I'm having at Immigration!"). I'm told just now to expect 21 days worth of 10Bolivianos/day fine when I was assured that it wouldn't be enforced, or got around. Far out (he says, wanting to use another delightful little English phrase). That's 210 Bolivianos that I could really use. I feel like I've been robbed again. And I STILL haven't got the bloody visa. I tell ya, it's lucky I'm still being civil, but I assume that screaming at officials or others won't help much. I'd better go meditate before I scratch somebody's eyes out.

Of course I know that I'm lucky to be not thrown out for overstaying (but they'd rather my money), and that I should forget about it and enjoy the movie night at Republik Cafe tomorrow night, and unfortunately my niño students copped the backlash a bit but then again, they shouldn't have been eating in class/kicking each other/cutting up their workbooks... ARRGGH! They have a test tomorrow that almost all of them will fail... crap.

Let's see if this computer does the uploading photos thing... it'd better if it knows what's good for it...

Love (*checks heart* I think there's some in there somewhere),

Michael.

Fresh air, or was it? A car(e)-free day of hot debate.

Yesterday was voting day. There was the selections of the 5 representatives in each department (there are nine)to sit on the Constituent Assembly, there was the selection of the ... hmm.. someone else in each department - can't remember - and there was the big referendum question (all Australians know how important those are, don't you? The questions that can completely change the direction of a country - Aboriginal voting rights, choosing the National Anthem, the Republic issue. They're extremely controversial and changes hardly ever happen - only 8 of 44 since Federation (see what you know when you pay attention in class!)). The question on whether Bolivia should be a united country governed solely from La Paz or whether the different departments should have autonomy has literally divided the country at this stage - the East preferring automony and the West going with Morales' option, critics accusing them of blindly swallowing the propaganda.

What was exciting for me yesterday was a law that seemed to me as foreign as the no grog before an election law (which given where I am, the term "foreign" should not be a surprising concept). On election day it is illegal to drive. Yes, I kid you not - car-free days actually exists here! I say "days" because I have been told that it happens a number of times a year! Now this was music to my ears and nerves (not having to dodge and swerve the dodging and swerving cars here) as we walked to Lake Alalay to take in the sights and smells; the lake is permanently afflicted by an green algae that fills the lake to make it a pretty green colour, but the numerous fisherpeople on the banks must have estómagos of steel to handle any living thing that they catch. Maybe it's just for sport. Either way, it was a pleasant walk, watching the model aeroplanes flying about at the aeromodelo club, the several soccer games being played in the dust by enthusiastic lads and taking in an egg and salad roll for 17c. along the way. Five of us went, three of us towering above 190cms, so therefore entertaining the cyclists and families that were enjoying the car-free atmosphere.

The vote has come in so far as a NO vote, favouring Marales, whose critics suggest will now create a new iron-fist Cuba, but we will have to wait for about a week until all the votes from the country come in before we get a difinitive answer.

For now, I'm going to spend my time dreaming of the next car-free day, giving the revolution an Aussie accent, and buying some patches for the ever holy nature of my pants.

Photo: This road is usually hell to cross, especially in peak hour. Today? Empty except for bikes and the occasionally allowed car (for the elderly, disabled, etc or for the excitingly present European Election Observers vehicles). The freeway in the rear is also emply, the footsteps on the road playing a usually unheard melody.

Love to you all,

Your FNBC.

A nation of Slim Dusty pubs.

I can't bear the thought of writing all this out again ("this" being what's still in my head but not on the blog that I wrote last night and lost due to keyboard dysfunction)...

I DID write that I found myself on this computer instead of at my favourite English class or failing that, at my favourite bar beering on a Friday... Why? It seemed my class decided en mass that they deserved a break after the last unit of work (Intermediate 2/I) before plunging into Intermediate 2/II where the excitement of English doesn't stop (look out for that continuous past tense!!)

And not at the pub? Now this will blow your socks off (I think I said that in the lost blog): the Bolivia, in their infinite past wisdom have a law that stipulates no drinking two days before an election, or at least it's illegal to sell the stuff. This I find, regardless of my alcohol intake limits, absolutely incredible. If this happened in Australia... well... it just wouldn't! Gobsmacked and incredulous. More and more adjectives of similar ilk crash around my head about this subject. I'm bamboozled! I have also come to the realisation that it's no bloody wonder there are so many riots and temper fraying and things around election time... The reason for the ban on drinking is (apparently) that it clouds one's decision making capabilities when voting... now check me if I'm wrong, but in my experience one's political standpoint is ANYthing but clouded when one is drunk. In fact it's probably when one's political position is most clear!

That's all about that.

I also wrote last night that I'd decided to ring Fiona and that I would do it straight away. When I finally got to the phone she had tried to call me at home... AT THE SAME TIME as I said I wanted to call her. That means something. There you are Millennium, more shit for you on my page. And I was being sarcastic with the politics comment. Of course it's all politics! That's what life essentially is, and should be, if we remain intelligent, thinking humans, and not drones to the queen. Humph!

Going to find a place where I can buy their silence in inchange for a drink. That sort of stuff is so easy to do here... I think.

Your FNBC.

It's just politics people!!! (or IS it?)

I'm hooked! And given that my first translation of those I'm hooked by was "Tinku net" it's not surprising. And given the political nature of the organisation I've just commited myself to wholeheartedly volunteering for - Red Tinku (the Tinku Network) - the metaphor is even less surprising. Check them out at http://www.redtinku.com/. I just tried to access it but had to do a search for "red tinku" for the link.

If all goes well I'll be their official photographer for events and actions, their assistant archivist (don't panic! The ACTual archivist is a native Spanish speaker), and if interest is high enough, their English language teacher. This is the sort of English I want to teach, where I'm not struggling to inject political content into the class without scaring people off. These guys want English so they can read the instructions to opening the Floodgates of Anarchy!! (should the instructions be in English of course - we're all screwed if they are in Alemanian...)

Anyhow, I started my job photographing the advertising for a film showing in response to the violence of earlier in the day when political opponents clashed in the city. The silly gits (as far as I've worked out) didn't plan their marches well enough to avoid each others' path... or did they!!? Marches, clashes and much tension, then and continuing, is due to the upcoming elections on Sunday for a new Constitutional Assembly. There's more about this on the Democracy Center website that I've linked here (on the right). What is decided on Sunday will completely change Bolivia one way or the other. Some are scared that if Evo's factions get through then we'll plunge (?) into a Cuban Castro-like State (which IS a worry, but better than a Capitalist State of course), and others are afeared that individual state powers and independence over resources will divide the country and make us ineffective in the fight for global justice and equality... Or maybe I've got it wrong.

Anybody?

There are days when it's just too much. Or is it?

I thought I was having a bad day here in Bolivia, feeling all alone (where I'm not), feeling all useless and ineffective (which I'm not) and wishing I had it better (which I certainly do). The detail of my woes that I had all ready to spout out before I got here, huffing and puffing away about this and that - they're not really important all of a sudden.

I didn't know Angela Volan at all, except through the Marfan Syndrome website. It's far too easy to connect with strangers you create an intimate relationship to in other ways. Angela passed away a few days ago from complications related to Marfans Syndrome, and I extend my sympathy and condolences to her family and those who knew her.

Also, Daniel McKay, an avid culture jammer was involved in a fatal car accident last Friday. He was only 21. My thoughts go out to his family and friends. Daniel had a stoic passion and dedication to improving society through creative means. I respect his philosophies and will miss his energy. Jammer Paul wrote more:

Daniel McKay (better known as Why) amongst other things, built and hosted our website, and was an active stenciler. Some of his work was in the stencil festival held in Fitzroy a few weeks back. You've probably also seen his "Why? Why? Why?" posters stuck up around town, I see them in the city all the time. He was a big contributor to the jammers, did some great work on logos of all types, and donated a painting for our fund raiser gig last year. I recommend you check out his website (which is still up): http://www.askwhywhy.com/ What a loss... His funeral is on Friday, 2pm at the Uniting Church in Wallan, his home town.

Today I am in the country of my dreams with friends around and closer friends and family thinking fondly of me at home.

That's not too much.

Michael gets a little interested in the game...

Yes, I'm stealing this link from Patricia (one of my links, a worthy check-me-out) but it's important to remember why you're cheering for a country (or why not).

http://www.wdm.org.uk/whoshouldicheerfor/

The USA of course ranks pathetically last (again! not to hear their leaders tell the story - "we're number 1"...), while Ghana are the team to cheer for, even if they don't have their "star player" and are up against Brazil next June 27 (Brazil are 9th which is at least better than Australia, who just lost my support at 25th ranking. For those out of Australia (and those in, with their head in the sand) Australia stinks to high heaven human rights-wise, among other things.

Michael

p.s. Anyone get my mistake?

Although you never know what surprises might be in store...

For those who may be confused about my previous posting (I said that Fiona in her infinite wisdom cautioned me against the use of immodium which clogs you up (perfect for toilet-free bus trips but hell when you can't "go" for the following week) suggesting perhaps that she was here). Fiona's not here yet, to my infinite doofusness. The waiting that I can't do is more than when I said "I can't wait for the Spiderman movie to come out". I wish she was here, I wish I was there and if I was a Star Trek fan I'd be fantasising about teleporting to Australia, just for ten minutes, give her a cuddle and then teleport back, cos I'm sure that if teleporting was just invented they (the US government no doubt) would make my trip a priority...

However, the invention of the telephone (and more importantly, the invention of competitive phone card companies) has meant that Fiona can call me, tell me not to use immodium and hang up, no possibilities of any of her essence being caught up irretrievably in trans-whatever-it-is that teleporters are famous for screwing up.

I´m all better now. A powerhouse of immunity. If I were a mountain of silver and bad rice were the invading Spaniards I tells ya Bolivia would have a completely different history... or WOULD they!?

Love, your FNBC.

*Cough... choke* Happy...*hack* San Juan!

As my clutches for the toilet paper become fewer and fewer, there will be plenty of reaching for my hankie tonight as San Juan (whoever he is) lets the entirety of South America try out their pyromania, and the sky tonight and most of tomorrow (by all accounts) will become a dusty smoggy mess. Goodness knows why (as yet, except that it's the shortest day of the year) but all I know is that the celebrations that go with "does the cat burn easier than the dog" are something not to be missed. I may however, due to the tender state of my nether-regions.

Ah, such are the punishments of eating off rice in festival country...

Michael.

p.s. Just thought I'd send a picci I like that I took on the shores of Titicaca when we arrived in Copa - Copacabana.... don't fall in love....

Michael (still)

Australia's on a run, and talking of runs...

Hi all. Just wanting to give everyone the very important news, should you not have heard it yet.

Australia practically kicked arse yesterday in a draw with Croatia. I don't know if this is actually true. I heard we won first of all: 2-1 then that we drew. I would have actually watched the game at 2.30 in the afternoon but I was either asleep with the lack of energy that comes with one's system being comPLETEly cleaned out by a bug, or on the toilet in said process. I managed to avoid the use of Immodium, at the advice of my beautiful Fiona, who is always right...

My family (Bolivian) think it might have been the soy milk that can act as a cleaner-outerer, but I think it was the cold rice I was served up for dinner on Wednesday night. Who knows. What is important is (other than the fact that we are in the next round of the World Cup (unprecedented beyond even the most sports-allergic's dreams) - going on now to play Italy *wonders what Lygon Street will be like next week...*) that I'm feeling better and might even be able to teach some English today. Or catch the very cool comic exhibition that's showing at the Simon Patiño Cultural Centre (Mr. Culture they call me).

That all.

Your FNBC.

And it's A ... Ahhh, crap, we missed another one...

Well, you should all know by now that our secret weapon didn't quite work against Brazil. However we did play a very VERY good match and in my opinion just unlucky or as my students informed me this morning, unable to break the spell of the Brazilian Brujas who protect their goal from any opponents efforts...

Be sure to wake up early for the Croatia match on Thursday morning, where we will test our mettle and prove our worth for the next round.

By the way, anyone ever tasted Singani?

Your FNBC.

p.s. Marty's T-shirt says "You are NOT Brazilian" in response to all the Bolivians barrarcking for Brazil just because they are the best in the world. If Australia was the best in the world they'd probably barrack for us. But that's just my opinion... or IS it!??

Corrections and a bit of opinion risk-taking...

Thanks Patricia. Yep, the war with Paraguay then.

And yes, Australia is battling it out with Brazil on Sunday. I'm quietly confident that all will be fine except for the anxious cries of despair from the Northeast that will be felt at the loss to the underdog.

Charly the dictator. I'll have to explore. He looked seedy enough, waltzing in with the aplomb of the rich and couldn't-give-a-stuff. He did smash a whole vase of chicha onto the concrete for Pachamama. But then it looked like he didn't know a Mother Nature from a Mother.... nevermind...

AAAANyway, time for my favourite English class.

Your FNBC.

Costumes, Spiderman and more costumes!

Now there's some happening Oruro colour! It was Barrio Excambatiante's 50th anniversary today and over 100 young tikes and tikettes celebrated by donning traditional (really??) dress originating from Oruro. The area was resettled not too long ago by (and named after) the soldiers who battled it out in the war against Uraguay. One of my English students was dancing there today, hence my attendance. There are some shots with skirts twirling way above the decency line and others with the lads such as those above thrusting in unison. Overall quite a baudy affair!

Charlie, the dictator of Cochabamba attended with fanfare and applause (actually I think he's democratically elected and quite well liked... I just wanted to say "dictator"). I wanted to take a photo of him. He looks funny.

Anyway, time to finish off this holiday for Corpus Christi (where EVERYone goes on holiday except the restaurants and internet cafes) with a boozy chat to the girls at ECLA.

Chow,

Your Friendly Neighbourhood Bolivian Correspondiente.

p.s. OH! Talking of which, Peter Parker "reveals" himself... I mean, his "identity" to the general public in a press conference according to the latest issue of Spiderman. Who IS this imposter!!!

Political Jovenes, witches and the Club scene...

What happened at the Conferencia de Jovenes? I was late due to very VERY terrible directions from the lass who told me I should be there. I found the place, after an hour of checking out every likely establishment in the wrong area, my Spanish direction asking much improved by the occasion. The large, bare, old manufacturing plant room was physically cold but emotionally it was heating up with arguments of various and opposing leftist views. What was supposed to be (and for all accounts was) a gathering of some 35 young'uns from around the country to discuss the political hotspots of the day (and there are plenty including the likes of women's rights, nationalisation, and coca eradication), reminded me of the same such meetings of leftist groups I'm familiar with at home - leaving with a sense of helplessness that such groups may be meaningless, but with a contradictory feeling of solidarity, strength, hope. Without being able to understand a single full sentence of any of the speakers I can only postulate on the details of the conference... clearly. But my feeling is that I want to volunteer with the crazy guys who form much of the base of such action. This will at least improve my linguistical knowledge of political Spanish and certainly improve my awareness of what goes on here, again politically, although from a sometimes propagandically left view.

What happened AFTER the Conferencia de Jovenes? Well, I got involved in a bruhaha with a Bruja (pronounced Bruha with the gutteral J sound). I was walking down the road away from the conference, among old industrial wastelands on my side, and parkland on the other when I was approached by a little lad running up from four lean-to tents. He had a large round golden earring in his right ear, a vest, shorts, and no shoes. He insisted that I follow him back to one tent. I was curious. I did so. One of the open tents had an old woman lounging among enormous cushions and holding a deck of the Tarot. She popped up, looking like the Romanian Gypsy drawing you all read about when you were 9 (she indeed self-identified as a bruja, or a witchy/gypsy, quite the real deal, in fact!), procured a stony anti-tabula rasa from some area of her person, and proceeded to wave the thing around with an incantation along the lines of "buen suerte"-ing me. And in no pretty way, after spitting all over my own person (for good luck!), she dived into my pocket, and pulled out $120B. Now I have to point out that this is the FIRST time I've carried that sort of money around in my friggin' pocket (that sort! I know it's only about $20AU but it's TOTally relative!!). But there you have it. I was doing just that, in a dangerous part of town... Her hand flung out of my pocket, and with the body connected to it intending no similar flight, I was able to clutch said hand and began to grapple in the expectation that I'd be able to perform a session of reappropriation of wealth right there. She may have been around 70 but she was stronger than me, and as I continued to fail in reconnecting myself to my Bs. I saw the little shit who brought me there run off to another tent to, as it turns out, rouse the largish hombres to assist, and I'm pretty sure which of the two of us they'd be assisting. I bid a quick mental adieu to my moula and swore at the woman, let go of her hand and took off before the boys could no more than break into a trot. Me not stupid.

So anyway, I was GOING to give her SOMEthing for her trouble and generosity of bestowing on me her luck stacked spittle, so I guess this means that I'm in for some bloody enormous luck!

It rained heavily that night for the first time in three months, and the first rain I'd seen in Bolivia. Hope she got wet.

I've felt less safe and have been a little insulated lately, but now I'm fine. Still being careful and safe otherwise. Worry about me not.

In other news, I discovered the Bolivian Club scene with my Aussie companions last weekend. Latin American danceclubs are different to Australian ones... that's all.

Where's that invisibility spray...?

Capricorn

After a nice long slumber, some of your biggest insecurities are starting to wake up and look around -- don't be surprised if you suddenly feel a twinge of doubt about an upcoming meeting, confrontation or date. But this is a clear case of letting your fear drive the rest of your brain in the wrong direction. This is your best chance at turning this stinking thinking around, so keep chugging along in a brighter direction, and remind yourself that you totally rock (because you do).

I´m about to head off to a conference, the Cenferencia de Jovenes, a meeting of the leftest young minds this country has to offer, all speaking in Spanish no doubt! I needed that horoscopic, non-entopic, semi-entropic, quite on the topic piece of popic.

Piccis of the event soon,

Me in my Spiderman suit (in my mind).

Game's ON!

Right, so it did't take too long for me to become a footyhead.

The fever has kicked in so to speak, and I am now a full supporter of Iran, a team that isn't on the bottom but isn't on the top of the World Cup Soccer (oops, Football) Championships that has got this country in a tizz (even though we (Bolivia that is) can't play for granola).

My support of Iran comes after a deporteshead (sounds musical don't it!) from Australia at my work got me into the work competition. I drew Iran second from my two draws... Guess what luckily came out first....

Now anyone who knows me at all will know that even though I have some very good American (US) friends, I have a healthy disrespect for their country's policies and those "in charge" so to speak. So it's not a little ironic that I pull out the US for my other team. It wasn't since I was purposefully and cruelly placed in the US Olympic team at Gus' going-away party (I won best dressed GOLD! by the way) that I was so hard done by.

I CAN be proud to say though that (at an educated guess) I am the first person in the history of the world who will genuinely barrack for both Iran and the US at the exact same time.

So, to be clear, give all your energy to either of those two teams in order for me to rake in the $200 Bolivianos undoubtedly coming my way.

Lots of leather-bound love (soccer ball-wise that is),

Michael.

Gee this almuerzo thing seems to ALways get in the way of a good missive...

I thought I'd better give some info on this colossus. The Cristo de la Concordia, on a hill east of my city (I know this because directions are one of the first things I teach my beginner students (where is the Cristo??)) is 33 and a bit metres high, making it the highest one in the world incuding that of the Rio Cristo Redentor which stands at 33 metres (one for each year of Jesus' life - Cochabambinos poopoo that by saying that Jesus lived for 33 and a bit years...)

There are two thousand steps (some say) up to the statue from below, but I wouldn´t know. I DO know that the final 30 odd stairs that I climbed after taking the cable car (teleférico) embarrassed me in front of my tour guide (one of my English students). I might practice the 2000 stairs by myself...

That all - almuerzo time!!

Love your FNBC.

Geez! A camera and everythin'!

Yep, I´m a tourist. See me there revelling in the fact that I'm not the tallest whitey on the block!

Each of those holes are a lookout point when you get up into the big man. And I thought the moon looked particularly noice looking over his shoulder to make sure everything's in order.

Al muerzo time. Starving! Haven't eaten since... el desayuno!

It's another day, another month...

*a car passes by as he walks confidently down his own street, littered with bits of shit and an old aerosol can (as flat as the Golpe wrapper beside it, the former resting in the same spot since his arrival into Barrio Recoleta), and smelling of the remains of Q'oa, burning sweetly last night outside every participating establishment - a very community strengthening ritual (every first Friday of the month) of burning an incency mix of coca leaves, spices, traditional Q'oa plant and various sugary items of symbolism for luck from Pachamama in the coming month. Midnight Oil reminds him of the forgotten years on his MP3 player while normality seeps into his conscienceness, Guido his quirky Spanish profesor having just listened to that fast abstracting Australian band and calling it "cowboy music".

*he doesn´t flinch as that car swerves into the road he´s crossing, blinkerless and unforgiving, as he whacks it on the boot to let it know he´s there.

*he arrives home to his already prepared lunch, al muerzo, his digestive system now "used" to the daily intake of carne and he wonders if his favourite cafe will reap the benefits they wished for in last night's small, metal sacrificial K'oa alter. He hopes so, and looks forward to sitting down tonight with the owner's mum again to smoke and drink with her over his favourite gourmet sandwich as she lets him know more about the equally compelling troubles, triumphs and trials of her and her country´s life.

*enjoying his daily routine, which includes the peek into his internet inbox and the more and more occasional missive on his blog, his weekend will feel strangely empty without his students, most of them very willing subjects to his Imperial Language indoctrination - "Australia's a beaUUUtiful country. This is what the Opera House looks like (draws his rendition, complete with "NO WAR", on the white board). In Australia we give way to pedestrians and there are fines for dropping rubbish." One class thinks that he can understand everything they say when they talk Spanish. He thinks this is a good ploy and insists with a cheeky grin that it's not true.

*it´s Teacher´s Day on Tuesday and he feels a force of connectedness at the insistence of his students "surprising him" with a traditional meal to celebrate the day.

*a siesta that went an hour too long, being Saturday and no need to set his alarm, and the progressively sunless sky draws him to the street, and he feels a similar comfort as he stalks (his imagination often runs a little too wild) in the oncoming darkness.

Life is normal. It´s wonderful and trying, creative and boring. Excitingly new and comfortably familiar.

*imagines the Parque Nacionale Noel Kempf Mercado and he can't wait for Fiona to arrive.

*imagines Sydney Road and dries his cheek.

*it dawns on him that the K'oa can speak another message each month, this one to himself. It´s now 2 months since he left his home country and the day went by without note or fanfare, as will moreso the following months. Darkness falls finally, again, and it's time to find some dinner, like any other dog on the street.