the nightlife is the right life...

Last night was my first venture into Bogotá’s nightlife. We went to La Antifaz (the masquerade) after hanging out at the apartment for a while, drinking mojitos and eating old Christmas cookies. Not as many people came as we’d expected, but as usual Mauro had to pick up some girls he knew along the way, and we were about 7 total, or two cabs’ worth.

The scene was much younger than I’m used to, but we danced like mad for a few hours. Great release for all the nervous energy accumulated during the week. It seems to me that dancing is a particularly necessary pastime in a place that has more than its deserved share of dangers. I went home reasonably early because I planned to go to class this morning. Big surprise, I didn’t make it, although I got up early enough and set out on time. Problem: I didn’t know the building or room number, and none of the internet cafes were open yet to check. Then it occurred to me – I would have to miss class every single time I wanted to go out of town! No, no, no, no, no. I’m signing up for public economics instead. Why are all the the CIDER classes at 7 AM???

That afternoon, tiring of waiting for a return phone call from the commission, I had decided to head out on my own to buy a bed. That sofa just was not cutting it, after ten days of getting up and remaking it every morning. My back was starting to complain, too. So it was off to the bed neighborhood for me. One of my roommates had directed me to the intersection where he thought it was located.

When my taxi and arrived, nothing. Turns out the highway had been built since the last time he’d visited, and all the stores were on the other side. When we finally made our way through the construction traffic, I spent four hours, yes four hours, going to what felt like every single store, collecting cards and cotizaciones at each. The thrift store syndrome attacked with a vengeance – I had to see every potentially suitable bed and get the very cheapest one possible. This involved lots and lots of tilting my head and mmming. Mmm, I would say. I don’t know. This one looks…very decorated. Do you have anything more economical? Not cheap – I learned not to say that, but economical.

At 4, my commission mom called, in a bit of a panic. Where were you? Why didn’t you answer the phone? What? I have a man here to accompany you to the bed neighborhood! Finally, after agreeing to be very VERY careful with my wallet, I continued my shopping. Long boring story short, I finally have an actual bed.