Hail!

The rainy season got underway today with a sudden clap of thunder and a fall of giant hailstones. This soon turned to sheets of rain which steadily filled up both of the patios, forming large pools in front of and behind the Palace. These began to grow and eventually the front lake began to spread into the Blenheim Suite (the living room), soaking the carpet. I had been worried that the Palace would leak, but apart from a few drips on the stairs we seem to be reasonably waterproof. Dave and Jess bravely dealt with the lake problem by rolling up their trousers and attacking the drains with bread knives. Amazingly this worked, and with a loud gurgling sound the waters began to subside. Now, for the next few months, life will be very different in Bogota. Umbrellas will again become indispensable items, and wet shoes a fact of life. In a way I'm quite looking forward to it - it was during the rainy season last year that I first fell in love with this place. The showers have the effect of washing the pollution out of the air and guarantee a daily show of rainbows that arch over the city and frame the green mountains beyond.

I'm also hoping that the rain and floods might help to stem the constant flow of visitors we have been receiving here. Hardly an hour goes by without somebody arriving at the door, which is nice, of course, but can get a bit much. The weekend was a case in point. Folk started turning up in twos and threes on Friday night, and before we knew it we had a full-blown party going on. We were all a bit bemused, because none of us had invited anybody. The same thing happened on Saturday, and throughout Sunday, when we had a roast pork dinner (with apple sauce, stuffing, roast potatoes, cauliflower cheese and gravy). There was no let up in the evening either. It was gone midnight and I was watching a film with Chris when the doorbell went. Standing there were two girls we know from the neighbourhood who announced that they were a bit tipsy, and just happened to be passing, and could they have a glass of wine or something? Naturally, we invited them in and had a pleasant chat for a few hours about the ghosts of the Candelaria. To be fair the girls earned their visiting rights with the bizarre and delightful assertion that their flat was haunted by the ghost of a 1970s hippy, called Fred.

At the moment we have a well-known author here interviewing a former child soldier who joined a paramilitary death squad after being rejected from the army because of his height. He wanted to enroll in order to avenge the death of his aunt, who was killed by guerrillas. I can't name the writer, because as soon as he finishes his book he will need to leave Colombia and never come back. He's been interviewing a few of these former killers here this week, charming fellas the lot of them, but I'm not sure how comfortable I am having them as house guests. I'm also beginning to question why he wants to do the interviews here, rather than at his luxury three-storey penthouse apartment in the north of the city. He says it's simply because his subjects all live in the south and the Palace is a good central meeting point. Hmm.

Sam has finally managed to emerge from his shamanic trance and has picked up Bruno. He said he didn't get to meet his 'power animal' or experience any particularly interesting visions. "The place was full of goddam hippies," he said, "and they all had their heads right up the asses of the shamans. These fat little dudes were sat around surrounded by gorgeous girls who were worshiping them. I gotta start a cult." He said the main effect of the drug was to induce vomiting. "It was like a symphony of puking, going on all around - bwah! bwah! bwah! You're supposed to vomit out all your negative energy, or whatever, but I just couldn't puke. The last night was horrible, I wouldn't recommend the experience. Too many hippies."

At the moment I'm entertaining a vain hope of having a quiet night tonight, but Wednesday in Bogota is a sort of mini midweek weekend. It's often busier than Friday and Saturday night, and going by experience the doorbell will start to ring at any time.

Aha! Right on cue; there goes the door. Let's just hope it's not another reformed murderer or a hippy from the spirit world. Whoever it is, I think I'll let them get rained on for a bit before I let them in. Ha!