On the road to nowhere.

I fucked up my finger real bad on Saturday night. I was a little buzzed from brandy and rum at a much-too-crowded club in La Candelaria where there was decent house playing. There was only one bathroom for girls, so when I saw an opening in the boys` bathroom, I ducked inside and slammed the door. On my poor finger. Without being under the influence of alcohol I`m sure I would have screamed. But I pulled my flattened appendage from the doorway and watched it turn purple while people banged on the door. Today, it hurts like hell. War stories, war stories.
That night, I made a keen observation: Bogotaians can`t dance to electronic music. In fact, they dance pretty badly. They have the salsa thing on us, but when it comes to other music, they sort of adapt an abbreviated salsa dance to whatever music is on. It makes me kind of feel better knowing this, since gringos are notoriously bad salsa dancers.
Today I moved out of the bakery and am helping to house sit a gorgeous place up the street owned by a Swiss-French family. They`re going back to Europe for a month and have left the dog, parrot and their other valuables in our hands. I can`t even begin to describe this place -- there are two large patios with rooms surrounding a courtyard. Hardwood floors, two huge fireplaces and a real kitchen.
It makes staying here longer easier. I haven´t found a cheap enough flight home but I am fighting homesickness, plus a rapidly decreasing bank account. I aim to be home by August 4 if things work out...
Going ice skating now.