My parents got in at 2am last night. The fog was so dense that their plane had to circle around in the air for half an hour. The fog lifted temporarily, enough for their plane to land. Then the fog came rolling in again. The airport was closed right after their plane landed. They made it in the nick of time.
We had a pretty good day overall today. My dad had some altitude sickness (“I feel like I drank too much tequila”, but a nap and some coca tea took care of it (the plant used to make cocaine helps with altitude sickness and a host of other health issues in its native form). We took it easy and checked out Chia – the 200-year old town square where we ate empanadas and sipped cappuccinos, the mountain roads near our house with their serious potholes, our favorite dessert place, the local super market. Basically, it was a chance for my parents to see how we live.
At the end of the day, we arrived back home to a set table and a dinner prepared by our housekeeper. As she served us dinner, my dad said, “Don’t you feel a bit bourgeois being served like this?” Esteban and I chuckled. We can both remember when I was really uncomfortable being served. Now, I am just very, very grateful.