Hola chicos (May, 2012 - email home to Canada)
We're in an internet desert again, in the village of Concepcion, known familiarly as Conce. So I'm writing this to be dispatched when an opportunity arises.
Yesterday, Saturday, when we had become accustomed to day after day of sun, we awoke to the hiss of tires on wet streets. We waited from 10am to be fetched from the apartment by Javier, a FCBC logistics guy, who showed up at 2pm in a double-cab pickup with a young woman (Paula) in the shotgun seat and another (Heidi) with a little boy (Santiago) in the back seat. We squeezed in with them, Pepa on the hump. The pickup box behind was full of provisions for the Eco-Adapt meeting.
The first 200+ kilometers were huge fields stretching out to distant tree-lines on the horizon. As the sun lowered, shining under the heavy clouds above us, the landscapes became interestingly hilly and uncultivated. Some of the trees were in flower, oddly considering it's autumn, and glowed electric pink in the sunset. A flock of white storks circled and settled on the canopy of a vast tree. We continued cramped in the dark, lit by occasional sheet-lightning flashes, until we arrived in Conception finally, at 7:30. Javier poked around rutted streets on the edge of town until we found Hermes' house and located the person with the key.
We had dinner together in a funky patio restaurant in town, and gleaned during the meal that the woman in the front seat was pregnant, so I grudgingly forgave her for the 5 fours of discomfort which now and then descended into resentment that there wasn't at least some rotation, if not indulgence of the oldest person in the vehicle. Pepa deduced that Heidi and Javier are a couple, with other marital histories, but I didn't see much demonstrated, although they both seemed fond of the little boy.
They took us back to Hermes’ house and left us there. It's impressive: two bedrooms and a loft, post and beam, terracota tile roof, electricity, hot water, a fireplace that's never been used, and lots of glass. We got settled in and went to bed.
In the night a sensational lightning storm broke out directly above us. We huddled in our twin beds, under progressions of explosions starting not far away, rapidly approaching, with crescendos apparently centred on the house, as though we were in the midst of the pins of a cosmic bowling alley.
This morning, Sunday, was wet, alternating between drizzle and downpour. We had brought papaya, bread and cheese so after breakfast we sat about reading and at noon made a break for the plaza for lunch, in what looked like a dry spell. It's at least 15 minutes walk away, on bare earth streets with little creeks running in them. The church was just closing so we nipped in for a look. It was built by Jesuits in 1752 and restored more recently by Franciscans, a full-sized cathedral made of adobe with monster carved wooden pillars supporting a tile roof. It's a UNESCO world heritage site. There appears to be a telco office with internet terminals but it wasn't open, being Sunday I guess. Maybe tomorrow I can send this.
The neighbor across the street visited with her grandson, curious about us I guess. She predicts un dia lindo tomorrow. Just now (8pm) there was a knock on the door, three guys outside, one of whom was Roberto, my boss, to make arrangements for my attending the meetings this week. We're hoping that Gina, Hermes' wife, comes tomorrow so that Pepa doesn't have to hang out near the meetings at Alta Vista, a half-hour away, out of cell coverage. She called today and seemed keen to come, with Hermes' old Mum, also a painter.
So in spite of the damp start this week is looking like it will be fun not just for me, in my first days on the job, but also for your Mum with her new painting buddies.