The alarm is set for 5,
but I always wake up at a quarter till. Still dark, but in Bogotá, daylight
comes within seconds of the same time each morning 365 days a year. There is no
change of seasons in Colombia. I throw the covers back, slide out of bed, and
pad my way to the bathroom.
No need to turn on the
light, I pee leaning over the stool with one hand supporting me against the
back wall of the bathroom. I hear rather than see that I hit the target. I flush, turn and push against the sink, run
cold water over my hands, and splash some onto my face. I feel for the towel
hanging to the right of the sink and use it to dry my face and hands.
I hear the alarm go off
and make my way back to the bedroom to stop its buzzing. I want to fall back
into bed next to the warm form sleeping under the covers, but turn and wade
back toward the galley kitchen just a few steps away. I flip on the light over
the counter and cover my eyes. I open my fingers slowly to give my eyes a
chance to adjust to the glare.
The coffee is Colombian
and a dark roast. I spoon five spoonfuls into the Mister Coffee, fill the reservoir
with five cups of cold water and punch the on button. I take a liter of milk
out of the fridge and fill my large, white porcelain cup half full, put the cup
into the microwave, set it for one minute and twenty seconds, and push start.
The bell dings, and I
take the cup of hot milk out of the microwave. I find the pot of sugar and stir
in a heaping spoonful of the brown sugar. The coffee is almost done, but I don’t
wait. I pull the coffee pot and sub my cup under the dripping coffee. I tip the
pot and fill the cup and quickly exchange pot for cup.
Without stirring, I take
the day´s first sip of café con leche. A
new day, like all my days in Colombia, has begun. I carry my cup of coffee into the dining room
and look out the window at the gray light as it comes over the mountains
surrounding the city to the east.
The dog was asleep on the
couch, but I see her watching me. I sip my coffee. She stretches and pulls herself
off the couch and pads to the apartment´s door. I walk over, open the door. She
hesitates before she goes out and down the circular staircase to the garden and
yard three floors down. I shut the door, walk to the couch, and sit down in
front of the fireplace. I take the remote control and push start. The gas logs
ignite, and it will only take a few moments to dissipate the nights chill from
the apartment.
I get up, open the door,
and let the dog in. She follows me into the kitchen. I get her some food and
pour it into her bowl. I pour more milk and sugar into my cup and microwave it.
I fill the cup with coffee. When I finish my second cup of coffee it will be
full daylight outside, and I will be ready to shower, dress, and start another
day in Bogotá. I like living in Colombia. I like the sameness. I can count on
it.
