Although: Slow isn’t quite the right word to describe the internet here. Temperamental is more like it. It seems to work the best at seven o’clock in the morning, and can drop on you on occasion midday but is otherwise manageable, then it progressively degrades later into the afternoon until it’s more or less unusable at dusk and thunderstorms. The internet here works like the sun. And for someone like me who depends on it for sustenance, it practically is the sun. My crops are different and my farmland is infinite, and my uniform unlike the chorlita women here who wear shiny skirts and wool cardigans and bowler hats and their hair in pigtails, but my farm is subject to the same over and underexposure. And as this analogy would have it, procrastinating on the internet, for me, is like suffering a drought. It does me good when the sun is gone, cause then the rain can come. The difference back home is that I’m also the one controlling the weather.
And so I write to you, while I still can today, before I leave this afternoon on a flight for Santa Cruz, in Southeast of Bolivia. I’d like to say I’ve adapted to the new hours of daylight here but I know that, once I settle into the hotel, it will be the same process all over again: asking for the wifi password, connecting, waiting, waiting, waiting.