After eight days of preliminaries it was now time to get down to the serious business of this trip - GOLF in the warmth and sun of Colombia.

German came back from his office at about 11am and off we went to his golf club, Club Campestre Guaymaral (Why-mar-all) for my first ever round of Colombian golf. Now this is an experience everyone should have - several times a week minimum.

First we sat down at the men’s bar and ordered lunch. Waiting for the food German took me on a tour of the golf, tennis, pool area, equestrian and family facilities. Back at the bar the food was there: House made soup, magnificent side salad and a proper lunch sized, grilled flank steak.

After filling our stomachs we walked out to the first tee. It was just the two of us. Since there were no golf carts in sight (none used on the course, actually) we hired our caddies. Jhon was my caddie (That is NOT a typo). He spoke EXACTLY as much English as I spoke Spanish. Since I needed to ask for my club for each shot I quickly remembered: Uno, dos, tres up to my Spanish numerical limit, nuevo. This was perfect since I only have nine irons and a one and three wood. The sand wedge and pitching wedge were easily mastered by saying, “Sand and pitch-eh respectively. Jhon knew when I was going to putt so no issues there. The utility/hybrid club was problematic.

Yardage to the flag was a tad bit more difficult. I was in good shape if the hole as less than nine yards away. Much larger numbers were necessary here, though. We developed a sign language with each finger meaning ten yards. So eight fingers meant eighty yards and a word like “cent” something followed by two fingers meant 120 yards (Yes, yards are used, not meters). This worked well until I looked carefully on the back nine at his fingers as he was giving me my yardage. Dear Jhon did not use his thumb. So, five fingers on one hand and three on another should be eighty yards. In reality it was four fingers on one hand and three on another meaning seventy yards. Oh well, I am not that good that it mattered anyhow.

For his service I gave him $40,000 (20 USD). I shot an 83 in an amazing less than 3 hour, walking, and low oxygen round. Wow, was I tired when we finished. I believed the thin air was not a problem until the two times we played through a slower group. Rushing and walking fast winded me enough that the next hole both times resulted in a weak-effort double bogey. But at 72 hours there is little altitude problem. The sun was unrelenting since we were 8000 feet closer to the sun even though the temperature was only 75 degrees.

After the round we had a Club de Colombia beer which comes with a shot glass of lemon concentrate. This is poured into the glass of beer in the amount personally desired. We imbibed on the deck overlooking the course. Next on the agenda was the steam room. After my tired old-man muscles relaxed we went to a warm room with lounge chairs. There we lazed to an extent unknown to my body. Just before sleep overcame me we got up, took a shower, put on our clothes and drove the 25 minutes back to the apartment.

{Ann now} Mary and I attended an American Women’s Club meeting this morning, where I met two dozen of Mary’s friends and acquaintances and watched a Dior cosmetics demonstration. There was a drawing for door prizes and I won a $75 bottle of wrinkle remover! Of course I have no need for it, so Mary and I will share it for the fortnight and both of us will be irresistibly made over by the time I leave. The AWC does lots of good works and Mary served as its president a year or so ago. It is interesting to see how expats work to fit into their community, and to help those who are in need.

In the afternoon, we went down to the village of Usaquen (where the apartment is located) and window-shopped, enjoying late lunch at a local Italian restaurant, secure in the knowledge that the men would return late, well-fed and relaxed. The only snag was that they came home early, expecting to be fed. Oh well, communication needs work—they settled for scrambled eggs.

Tomorrow we head into the Colombian hinterlands for a two day road trip deep into the mountains. No internet and no computer. Life will be like the early 1990s! Well, not exactly, I will have my Ipod shuffle.