Peace

The eyes of the world briefly turned towards Bogota last week as President Uribe was sworn in for his second term. As all the news reports I saw emphasised, security was very tight. Througout the city centre soldiers outnumbered cilivilians by at least two to one. There's good reason for this; the first time Uribe was installed as president in 2002 Farc guerillas fired rockets at the inauguration ceremony. They missed and the rockets fell on a poor area nearby, destroying a homeless shelter and killing thirty tramps. Take that you fascists!

Just about everybody got searched at some point or other in the days leading up to the ceremony. Jon was particularly worried when he was patted down in the centre of town. The soldier looked as though he was going to make a fuss that he didn't have his passport with him. He came very close to carting him off - which, as he has outstayed his visa, could have meant deportation back to the Israeli army. "Why are you shaking?" asked the soldier.

The news seems better from the Middle East, particularly as Sam's mum and dad managed to escape from Lebanon. They had arrived from the States just before the hostilities and then found themselves trapped in their ancestral village. Eventually they managed to find a car, which they drove to the relative safety of Syria, from where they caught a flight to Paris and then home to Virginia. Quite an adventure for a quietly retired couple.

The day before the inauguration was another Ley Seca - a total ban on the sale or public consumption of alcohol. As is now traditional this was the cue for the expats of Bogota to get together for a boozy party in Platypus Two. I left early and, as I walked home ,had one of the most disconcerting experiences of my time in Bogota. Although it was late the streets are usually fairly busy throughout the night. But as I walked through the city centre this night I was the only living soul to be seen. I was aware of homeless people eyeing me from the shadows, but to all intents and purposes I was walking through an abandoned city. Perhaps all the Bogotanos stay in and get drunk during Ley Seca as well.

Time continues to fly by here. Yesterday I went to the DAS office to renew my visa for my sixth month - which means I've been in Bogota for five months. Five months! Blimey.