In London, my cast-iron body clock had always been a misplaced source of pride; now, is badly letting me down in steadfastly refusing to acknowledge our new circumstances. Instead, at 3.30am ever morning, I am wide awake in the pitch black with an overriding requirement to start my daily routine. This is becoming tiresome.
I had arranged to meet Susi and Fiona at their office for lunch. It’s only a few minutes’ walk down the hill and on the way a fight started. There was no way of avoiding seeing the fisticuffs but as I got nearer one man was knocked to the ground and two others started kicking him. I was in that horrible position of knowing someone had to do something but wishing it wasn’t me. Fortunately, just as I was about to start running and shouting (as if that would be enough), a policeman broke them up. It is concerning to see something like so close to home and Susi's work.
Susi’s German colleague Sanna came over for dinner. A former political scientist, she is intimidatingly well informed about Bolivia and drew parallels between Evo Morales’ regime and Nazi Germany. From anyone else, this would be easy to dismiss as hyperbole. She was recipient of my first attempts at cooking here; it didn't taste bad, but I would happily settle for not poisoning her. Fingers crossed.
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