Scran

Yesterday i went out for some cheeky tapas, which was rather a nice change from all the meat, rice and plantain. It was interesting to see what the tapas here are like, i think it´s the same phenomena as some Chinese classics like chop suey (i think) not actually existing in proper Chinese cuisine but having been invented somewhere along the way, similarly there were about 2 things on the menu that you actually get in Spain, one of them being patatas bravas which came in a sort of mayonnaisey cheese sauce. Some tasty snags and a plate of delicious calamares al ajillo later, the grand finale of the meal arrived. In this tapas bar they had a few totally out of place items, like cajun chicken wings, but the best one was blokje kaas. If my Dutch serves me well this means "cubes of cheese" and that´s exactly what it was, about a pound of squeaky orange cheddar cut into huge cubes and served alongside a slick of apricot jam. It was great, although i had some strange dreams last night and woke up feeling really sad. But imagine coming all the way to Colombia to eat some kind of bizarre bastardised Dutch delicacy. Gezellig!

Through some sneaky negotiations with my various shady contacts in the British Council i´ve managed to nab some furniture off an English teacher who´s leaving Colombia, this is a pure godsend meaning that after some unpleasant howfing of furniture in and out of vans, up and down stairs, on Saturday night i´ll have a flat with a bed and a fridge and everything. Top notch. This guy is leaving because he got hit by a taxi, and meeting him has heightened my fear of the same thing happening to me. Road signs are kind of optional here, and i´d be raging if i came all this way and avoided all the other potential dangers of the country (much exaggerated, incidentally) only to be hit by a taxi.

This Saturday we´re having a wee perty in the new hoose, it´s very easy to find the building because it has "Yankees go home" spraypainted on the front of it. No joke. I´´m going to start acting the total Scot so´s nobody thinks i´m a Yank. An old lady asked me for directions in the street yesterday so i can´t look TOO foreign, i tell ye i´m glad i´ve got dark hair in this city, you stand out a mile away if you´re blonde with light eyes. In addition to genetic luck i´m supplementing my Colombian disguise with various disgusting items of clothing, latest two are a bag made out of a record sleeve for a song called "HOT HOT HOT!" with the performer´s grinning face splashed across it in garish colours, and a totally pimped up bomber jacket made of orange fake silk with stripey cuffs and a fur trimmed hood. I haven´t been robbed so far so i think it´s working.

I´m off to work now for a fascinating meeting on the promotion of foreign languages in the university, think i might suggest a wee weekly Still Game showing...