“The president of the United States is so stupid,” she said.
“I voted for him twice,” I said.
“You probably voted for Bush twice too,” she said.
“No, but my brother did.” I laughed.
“Senator Robledo of my political party said that Americans
don’t have friends; they have interest.” She said. “You Americans only act out
of self-interest.”
“I think every county—everyone—does,” I said.
“You think I act out of self-interest?” she said.
“We were talking about gringos,” I said. “About the
president being stupid.”
“He is, and I thought he would be different. Everyone in
Colombia was so happy when he won the first time,” she said.
“I know. Right after the election in 2008, I walked in to the
coffee shop across the street from our apartment, and the girl behind the counter
said, “Ganamos, We won.”
“Now, everyone is disillusioned.” She said. "Now he’s
thinking about starting another war. That’s all you Americans do. You start
wars.”
“I see your anti-American sentiment is alive and well. I
hoped six years married to an American would have softened you up a bit.”
“No es del todo
malo,” she said. “It’s not all bad.”
“I admit I am disappointed in the president too.”
“At least this time, the British Parliament voted against
killing a bunch of people in Syria. The Prime Minister wanted to kiss all the Americans’
asses again like always,” she said.
“I wouldn’t mind kissing the ass of Cristina, the president
of Argentina, but I am not attracted to the Prime Minister or the president of
the United States.” I laughed.
“I am serious, David,” she said. “I hope the American Congress
votes down your President’s plan to send cruise missiles and kill a bunch of
innocents in Syria. He’ll probably do it anyway. That’s what you gringos do.”
“Let’s talk about kissing ass some more,” I said.
“That’s all you gringos think about when you come to
Colombia.” She laughed. “You gringos think Colombians are sexy.”
“Well, I think half of you are.” I laughed.
