The carriers had been busy the last two days, the other crew members including the captain not, but this changed this morning and the preparations for the departure were going on when I opened my eyes. The carriers loaded off the last merchandise, the cleaning of the now empty ship had begun, the list of the passengers was prepared and delivered to the federal police and the captain took out his official marine merchant uniform. I had time to take a shower and wash some clothes before the special federal police unit Esfron came on board to inspect the ship and search for drugs or weapons. Nobody was allowed to enter the ship anymore, all cabins and personal belongings of the crew were inspected and all corners of the ship. I did not want to get involved and answer stupid questions and said a final good bye to my friend Manuel the captain, a quick hug and off the ship. The passengers had started to register at the check in next to the football pitch; I turned around one more time and walked back to Leticia.

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I walked along the main street of Tabatinga back to the border and straight to the first snack stand on the street to buy a drink and a Colombia potato. Mashed potato, a little bit of chicken or beef meat, a little bit of fried rice, half a boiled egg put inside dough and deep fried until nice crusty and brown from outside. I walked to the cyber and spoke to the family for the first time after two weeks, uploaded to the site and checked the news and the accounts. I stayed until midday and walked to the airport, another airport that had become my home for a couple of days; I could use the bathroom, work on the computer and rest for an hour.

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I had been already to the main square before to see the arrival of the loro’s but wanted to go again, this time to film. The square was twice as full as last time, mainly Colombian tourists, a few gringos, a few policemen and two handfuls of mobile snack bars. I had a total of three ice creams while I was walking around the square and filming the arrival of the loro’s.

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I was amazed like the first time, hundreds were arriving in small groups, flying straight to one of the trees and immediately adding to the noise. Now that I listened more careful I realized that the noise was not noise but actually music, a choir of two or three thousand loro’s singing every evening their own song while they were having dinner.

The song last for more than one hour before the noise of the motor of the ice cream stand and the noise of the traffic took over again. Before going back to the airport I wanted to eat and started searching for a snack stand. Most of the stands now served grilled meat bits on a stick with a slice of potato or Areppa with cheese.

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I walked around the main square, passed the library, walked around the park at the auditorium, the main vertical and the main horizontal commercial street but no Colombian potato. The Colombian potato was a breakfast, an up to lunch meal but not a dinner meal. I went for a second round to decide on something else when a man arrived with his snack stand and I could see through the glass display that he had my favorite Colombian potato, I had two and walked to the airport.

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Next to the airport was a warehouse which was used as covered parking for the moto’s of the airport staff with a small waiting area and a bench at the entrance. The airport had 24 hour security, the warehouse and the new terminal construction site opposite as well. Tonight’s security was sitting on the bench at the waiting room recharging his cell phone. I sat next to him and asked right away if I could stay for the night. The immediate yes was the beginning of a short conversation and one hour later he crossed the street to take his position for the night.

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