d said: burn the rest of the firewood. so I did.

Most fun night.

Stephanie and Christiane said: come out to the Columbian ex-pat house party.
I said: I have conference calls until 11pm.
They said: Silly boy, that's when the party starts.

Got home at 4:15, giddy.

You would think my language barrier wouldn't be an issue at a dance party, but it is: Columbians dance heck of well. You feel distinctly NOT Latino once the feet start slipping around. Attempt to learn Salsa - burning disaster.

The dress code was women in high heels, men in hats.

French-Columbians are sophisticated and charming until they start fighting over the ipod - reminds me of NYC parties, actually. Except people actually dance, and dance beautifully. Old fellows dance best. I couldn't stop smiling. I am the dance ambassador.

Song of the day: The Jamaicans - Ba Ba Boom.



Also: finally found the spider, mysteriously dead, in my bed! I must have killed it in my sleep last night. It instantly cured my nascent phobia to realize that I am a nocturnal sleep-killer-of-spiders. I am the bogeyman of spiders' worst nightmares - I strike in the darkness.

Dead, the spider is still enormous - but it seems smaller.