All That From a Library

Like any good student of Medieval History, I adore churches and fortunately for me, Cartagena is chock full of particularly charming ones (the Spanish really did adore this city). What makes me absolutely love Cartagena, however, is not its churches but its library. [As a man of indeterminate faith but strong convictions, you see, a library will always be my sanctuary.] It is the first (non-national) one I have seen since Mexico and it is small and quiet and air-conditioned and wonderful. The other joys of the city notwithstanding, it reminds me of my earliest days in Monterrey - a library was my refuge then, too - and that much more cognizant of how far I have come in the intervening months. Forget the distance - the further I go and the more I miss my family and friends the less ¨impressive¨ geography becomes (much the contrary, actually) - and think instead of, well, everything else. Take, as I often do, Spanish as a yardstick. When I crossed the border into Mexico in April I could barely speak a word of Spanish - and what little I then thought I knew was dutifully corrected by Sergio and Erika - and pointed avoided non-English interactions at all costs. [Not my finest moments, I´ll admit, but fear not it - did not last long.]

Here and now, though, having been shot out of the bottom end of Central America, things are radically different. Now I speak not just for myself but for my crew aboard the Astor* and all I want to do is use this wonderful language I am learning as much as possible.

More telling still is the fact that now I not only understand border security but argue with them. I negotiate, make friends - and even jokes. It may not sound like much but it is proof positive that the Spanish Gamble** is paying off and that the days of ¿Donde esta la biblioteca? are long, long gone.

* A job translating was never something I expected... or qualify for!
** You know, the whole move to Latin America and learn Spanish thing? Yeah, that.