We’re back into rainier months in Bogota. It rains here frequently anyway, but during a couple months twice a year it rains even more. I’ve been through one season so far, April-May, which was pretty darn wet. The reasonably nice days have begun to change just this past week, and heavier rain has occurred in the afternoons and late at night. It sounds lovely pouring down when I’m getting into my cozy bed; I prefer this to walking to work in it during the day!
I had a narrow window of time one day last week, and went out for a short run. Only a few minutes in, a few big drops splashed down around me and a huge clap of thunder echoed overhead. It’s going to be a wet run but that’s ok, I thought. Five minutes later I was totally soaked and the sidewalks were almost completely free of people who had scattered to find shelter to wait out the heaviest part of the downpour. This day, though, the heavy rain lasted at least an hour an a half.
I was almost home when I had to wait at a stoplight. It feels kind of pathetic to just stand in pouring rain and become even more drenched. I stood next to an older woman who was clutching an umbrella and muttering “cambia, cambia, cambia!” as she stared at the light. (“cambia” means “change”!) I gave her an understanding look.
I glanced down and noticed that the step off the curb was significant, as was the water in the street. I thought maybe she could use a hand crossing it, so just as the light changed I asked her (in Spanish) if she would like to take my arm. The word for arm in Spanish is “brazo“, but I said “abrazo“, which is the word for hug. So in fact, I asked her if she would like a hug from me.
If you read my post “How long have you had that horse on your face?” from a few months ago, you may remember the description I gave of my student Jairo looking at me in near-disbelief like “what is wrong with you?”, even though he did it in a peculiarly kind way. There is a curious expression a native can give a foreign person who seems sane but yet the words coming out of their foreigner-mouth make less sense than a 2 year old.
Much like the situation where, in a complete downpour, a drenched runner in her 30’s asks a classy elderly woman holding an umbrella if she would like a hug as she crosses the street.
With kind eyes but with a cocked head that says “What in the hell are you talking about, dear?”, what she actually said to me in Spanish was, “What? Oh, um, no thank you. But you’re very kind.”
And then she marched across the river of a street while I ran off, realizing my mistake and laughing out loud – again- at my stupidity.
