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...

WHEN THE GOING GETS TOUGH, MEN GO TO LUNCH

RIOHACHA: TUESDAY, DECEMBER 5
A State University and a private University are side by side on the left hand side of the highway a few kilometres prior to the coastal town of Riohacha. The Universities compete for students from Colombia's indigenous population. The ESCUELA BRITANICA is across from the Universities on the right hand side of the road. Bougainvillea and hibiscus spill over a once-white wall. The wall encloses a tree-shaded garden, untidy buildings.
The school nags as I ride on into Riohacha. A proper writer of fact would have investigated.
The offices of the Insurance company are closed for a two hour lunch. I sit a while on the steps beside a fruit cart, drink juice, eat a melon and chat with the cart's owner. He is a young man, married with two children. He scraped a living in Cartagena for a couple of years as a freelance tourist guide before returning to Riohacha. The drop in violence brought him back. Guerrillas and paramilitaries are in retreat. Most of the country is safe. The economy has picked up. He can support his family.
And he gives me information: Colombia, the clocks an hour behind Venezuela.
I must wait a further hour for offices to open.
I recall a friend's motto: When the going gets tough, men go for lunch.

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.

JUDGEMENT

GUARERO, VENEZUELA: TUESDAY, DECEMBER 5
I traveled through Venezuela at a critical time in the country's history - the referendum. As a result, my Venezuelan BLOGS contain a surfeit of politics and insufficient action. This is a final observation. As always in Latin America I am enraged by the monstrous disparity between rich and poor. This is particularly so in a major oil producer awash with petroleum dollars. Oil companies and their allies in the oligarchy were criminally irresponsible. Revolution is their deserved reward.
Only the type of Revolution is in question.
Chavez?
I don't believe so.
Chavez is a megalomaniac drunk on power.