GUILT FOR GLUTTONY

RIOHACHA, COLOMBIA: TUESDAY, DECEMBER 5
Guilt for gluttony drives me back to Escuela Britanica. An indigenous gatekeeper, eight years old, directs me to park in the shade of a mango tree. He shows me to the Principal's office. The principal is the owner, a Mrs Cohen. She is Colombian from Cartagena. Her mother is Catholic and she was raised a Catholic.
English is an essential of executive employment. English is a low priority of State schools. Private lessons are way beyond the financial reach of indigenous students. The Escuela Britanica is Mrs Cohen's attempt to fill the gap. It is a one-woman charity. It is admirable. Mrs Cohen is a warm intelligent woman. Her funds are limited. She needs a volunteer teacher. She can house and feed a teacher. A volunteer can obtain paying work at the two Universities where Mrs Cohen has good relationships.
The job offers an opportunity to interact with the indigenous population.
Riohacha is a safe town.
Beaches are good.
It is a great base from which to explore the Secret City to the west and the Guajira peninsular.
Readers, please pass the word...

GUAJIRA PENINSULAR

WEST FROM GUARERO: TUESDAY, DECEMBER 5

The highway cuts across the Guajira peninsular. This is indigenous territory, a dry land of sand dunes and scrub. Sun shines. A creeper spills pale blue flowers over thorn bush. The Honda runs perfectly. We are freed from Venezuela. I am immensely happy.

PATIENCE AND COURTESY

GUARERO/MAICAO: TUESDAY, DECEMBER 5

Frontiers demand patience and courtesy.

I am first in the queue at Customs. A clerk issues a temporary import certificate for the bike. I require a signature from the Military and insurance. The Military commander hasn't arrived. I am directed to the Army post the far end of Maicao town. I stop beside a biker at traffic lights. He points me to an insurance office on the next block. They issue certificates for a minimum of three months. A different company in the next town, Riohacha, issues monthly certificates. Fine.

I find the army post. The Captain has left for the frontier. I ride back to the frontier. Ten drivers now queue outside Customs. 11.30 AM and Customs closes for lunch at mid day.
Midday and the Captain appears with the Customs clerk. The clerk spots me, speaks with the Captain. The Captain beckons me in to the office, signs and stamps my papers.