Somehow, she found me

When friends visit my apartment for the first time, there’s nothing I enjoy quite as much as pointing to the paintings on the walls and saying “Isa did that.” Her glorious rendition of Venezuelan painter Cesar Rengifo’s Them and the city, with its dramatic Caracas skyline, is always a crowd pleaser. As is the copy of Mexican cartoonist Miguel Covarubias’ image of 1930s lindy-hoppers. The untrained eye is unlikely to notice her ceramics in our kitchen, the home-made lamps in the living room, the couch pillows she quilted herself.

Such an artistic streak often leaves people surprises that she’s also an electronic engineer. Perhaps nobody is quite as surprised as Isa herself.

Life by the Drop

Sometimes music is moving and inspiring even when I don’t get it. A song can strike me at some particular moment of my life or resonate with a given circumstance until it sinks into my mind, and I stop trying to figure out what it means. From time to time the question sort of nags me – what are they really talking about?

Bogota

It’s been nearly a month of strange limbo between visitor and business traveler in Bogota, maybe unusual enough that I’m only now sitting down to write what seemed like an obvious thing to blog about from the outset.

Bogota feels like the Andean sister to my adopted Caribbean hometown. The cleaned-up and orderly place where service is impeccable, streets are clean, poverty is well-hidden, history is visible and present. I’ve grown to love how it always feels like something between a warm fall day and a cool fall day, how the air feels fresh from constant rain, how bogotanos walk through a heavy drizzle without batting an eyelid or reaching for an umbrella, as if they were born waterproof.