Carrying on

2 hours meeting, 3 hours planning, 2 hours training, 0.5 hours emailing, page count = 140

Well, I now have a research assistant! Her name's Ana María Gómez, she was trained as a historian and has done archival work on the colonial period, and she currently teaches English to bankers and private clients and works as a translator. Welcome, Ana María!

Today we met, discussed a contract and workplan, I wrote them up, and we came to an agreement. Then we went to the Police Museum, and I trained her on the database of police service records from Antioquia that I had begun to construct. We're going to meet again on Saturday morning at the research library to go over the ministerial reports she'll be culling as well. On the way back to the north, we had a nice conversation about translating and different forms of Spanish in Latin America.

Last night we had a great time at the game, Millonarios won on two spectacular late goals. I'd never been to a soccer game where everyone was cheering for the home team. Dad, Abuela, I'm sorry, I temporarily went over to the dark side and cheered the evil, arrogant enemy. But if Sao Paulo had gotten a penalty, I was ready to risk a beatdown by yelling, "Métalo por Santa Fe!" (Score one for Santa Fe!) But it was not to be, and I lived another day.

But only just, as I packed a week's worth of street food into one night. Such are the sacrifices your humble correspondent is willing to make. At the stadium, I had lechona, or roast suckling pig, which has three remarkable features: Its presentation at the stand includes the head; the moist pulled pork and fluffy rice are topped with a firm arepa and, placed oh-so-delicately, a triangle of crispest skin, which pork rinds dream of being; and the mere smell of it has the capacity to clear half a row in a sold-out stadium. The fact that Gerardo and I had to shove through a mob for 40 minutes to get back to our seats after getting food made it taste all the better. On the way out of the stadium, I got a meat kebab, or chuzo, which comes with a small boiled potato on the end, and tastes lusciously of the grill and gristle. The fact that it was cheaper than the grilled corn-on-the-cob (with kernels so big Cathy calls them "horse corn") with which I accompanied it is best not contemplated.

As my time here draws to a close, I'm focused on setting up my assistant to continue gathering data, and to consolidating the data that I've gathered. It's been an incredibly productive trip.