This past week I had a blast with Molly. It was nice having another gringa to play with in Medellin, I was just about having enough of all of these boys! We toured the entire city, crossing the river to discover new areas outside the center and enjoying the many parks and open spaces in the city.
One night we went on a tour that I got a random call about from a local English language institute that I dropped my resume off at. They weren't hiring when I went, but a few weeks later they called to invite me on a bus tour through the city at night. They told me it would be their English language students and teachers. I immediately understood: I got a free tour through the city and they got my native English. Alright, I'll take it. So Molly and I got on the bus at 7, of course it didn't leave until close to 7:30. We ended up going to 4 tourist spots, 3 of which we had already been to. En route to each destination, the teachers enlisted us (Molly, myself and 5 Israelis, who surprisingly did not speak stellar English), with the help of a microphone, to share our thoughts on Medellin, Colombia, and Colombian women (the last one mostly directed to the Israeli guys). The idea was for us to get off at each destination for 20 minutes or so and have the Colombians give the foreigners a tour of the area, speaking in English of course. The problem was 1. not many of the Colombians knew their own city and 2. the students were mostly girls and they all flocked to the Israelis when we got off of the bus. So Molly and I were left with a handfull of students who spoke pretty good English but knew nothing about the Pueblito Paisa (a traditional Medellin town at the top of a mountain in the middle of the city) or why you're supposed to take your shoes off at Barefoot Park.
Luckily, Molly and I had already been to Barefoot Park. There was a rocky area to "massage" your feet, a sandbed to soften them, and pools to sit down and cool off. We had passed many a great panaderias (bakeries) on the way there but didn't get a hankering for a pastry until we were at the park. Of course, there were no simple Colombian bakeries to be found; the area was full of posh sushi and sandwich restaurants. We couldn't believe it, panaderias in Colombian are like Starbucks in New York! So we settled on a piece of sad pound cake from a cafe nearby, and then headed to the Interactive Museum. Alas, another activity for kids we found out not too late, as we read the brochure and discovered that Little Bear wanted to take us a journey through science! We decided we knew enough about how electricity passes through water and we did not need to subject ourselves to that humility again. We did confirm what I had told Molly earlier about the water being drinkable in Medellin when a lady who worked at the museum accosted us when she saw the huge gallon-sized water jug Molly was carrying around. "Why are you carrying around that bottled water?" she asked us. "Don't you know Medellin has the second-best water in the world?!" Ok, well, I was unaware. We'll add that to the list of Colombia's 'second-best' awards, along with Colombia's Taganga being the world's second's most beautiful beach. Go Colombia and their runner-up bragging rights!
Wednesday, April 29, 2009
Botanical Gardens
Yesterday for our weekly get together with girls from the neighborhood where I volunteer, we took a field trip to the botanical gardens. I had just been to the gardens the week before with Molly, but they were really pretty and I was looking forward to going back again. The Dutch woman who I do the workshop with suggested we give the girls a list of names of plants, flowers, etc and then photos to go along with them and they have to figure out which names match the photos and then go out and find these things in the botanical gardens. She were running a little late so by the time we left it was drizzling outside. The 10 minute walk from the office was challenging to say the least. Having to worry about myself crossing the crazy busy streets of Medellin I worry enough, let alone with 11 highly active, giggly girls between the ages of 9 and 12 without a care in the world. That on top of the distractions I had from 2 girls who kept bombarding me with questions about the U.S., asking me to speak English, why I had my nose pierced, why I had a toe ring, and "Americans really do like to wear sandals don't they?" I patiently responded to their questions while keeping tabs on the cars and corralling the girls to keep them from gallivanting across the street head on into a bus, counting uno, dos, tres...11 girls every time we crossed a street. The Dutch woman was with me, but she had her hands full too at the front of the group.
When we got to the gardens the mayhem wasn't over. The girls immediately began to run around looking at the different flowers, trying to find the turtles in the lake, and complaining that they wated to go to the maze (there's a smattering of 5 foot tall bushes that form an intricate maze where the girls would run around and get so lost while screaming their heads off). Because the girls didn't really get a chance to look at the photos before we left, they had no idea what they were looking at or what the names on their lists meant. They kept calling me "profe" (teacher) and asking me to help them. Sorry kids but I barely know the names of flowers and plants in English, let alone in Spanish! Later, more excitement ensued when the girls discovered a turtle, which was actually a rock in the pond, and then when a girl got pricked by a cactus in the cactus farm area. That was when we decided to take a snack break and let the girls scream their heads off in the maze.
The way back to the office was equally exciting, dodging cars and buses, now during rush hour. After their parents came to pick them up or they walked back themselves (9 year olds walking home alone, even just a few blocks, just seems proposterous in the U.S. doesn't it?), I had to walk the half hour back to my apartment. When I got back I was exhausted and starving, but happy. For one thing, on the way home I had been asked by a Colombian for directions (unfortunately I didn't know where the Prado Clinic was, but I acted like a true Colombian and explained to them the vague idea I had of where I thought it was, so as not to just flat out say "no se"), and second I had a great time with the girls. I was glad to see they were easily entertained by the gorgeous flowers and big trees and maze-like bushes. When one of the girls was a bit down and then started crying, a few of the girls tried to comfort her. They told me she was upset because she didn't know how to read and couldn't do the activity with the list of flowers so the other girls took her list and filled in the numbers for her. I thought that was really sweet. This 11 year-old girl is a bit overweight, doesn't go to school with any of the girls, and seemed a bit of an outsider at the beginning, but the girls made sure she felt included after that.
When we got to the gardens the mayhem wasn't over. The girls immediately began to run around looking at the different flowers, trying to find the turtles in the lake, and complaining that they wated to go to the maze (there's a smattering of 5 foot tall bushes that form an intricate maze where the girls would run around and get so lost while screaming their heads off). Because the girls didn't really get a chance to look at the photos before we left, they had no idea what they were looking at or what the names on their lists meant. They kept calling me "profe" (teacher) and asking me to help them. Sorry kids but I barely know the names of flowers and plants in English, let alone in Spanish! Later, more excitement ensued when the girls discovered a turtle, which was actually a rock in the pond, and then when a girl got pricked by a cactus in the cactus farm area. That was when we decided to take a snack break and let the girls scream their heads off in the maze.
The way back to the office was equally exciting, dodging cars and buses, now during rush hour. After their parents came to pick them up or they walked back themselves (9 year olds walking home alone, even just a few blocks, just seems proposterous in the U.S. doesn't it?), I had to walk the half hour back to my apartment. When I got back I was exhausted and starving, but happy. For one thing, on the way home I had been asked by a Colombian for directions (unfortunately I didn't know where the Prado Clinic was, but I acted like a true Colombian and explained to them the vague idea I had of where I thought it was, so as not to just flat out say "no se"), and second I had a great time with the girls. I was glad to see they were easily entertained by the gorgeous flowers and big trees and maze-like bushes. When one of the girls was a bit down and then started crying, a few of the girls tried to comfort her. They told me she was upset because she didn't know how to read and couldn't do the activity with the list of flowers so the other girls took her list and filled in the numbers for her. I thought that was really sweet. This 11 year-old girl is a bit overweight, doesn't go to school with any of the girls, and seemed a bit of an outsider at the beginning, but the girls made sure she felt included after that.
Tuesday, April 21, 2009
Touring and Volunteering in Medellin
My friend Molly is in town, stopping in Medellin on her month-long travels through Colombia. It wasn't until she got here and asked me what to do in Medellin that I realized I have not done much touristy stuff here. I haven't visited any museums, the botanical gardens, the planetarium, aquarium, nor a handful of the cool parks that are located throughout the city. Good thing I had Molly.
Plaza de los descansos (Resting Plaza) right outside planetarium and near botanical garden
Plaza de los descansos (Resting Plaza) right outside planetarium and near botanical gardenToday we went to the botanical gardens, which honestly didn't compare to the botanical gardens that I got to enjoy during the language program in Costa Rica in Turrialba. No foul smelling fruit trees, Chanel No. 5 plants, or bamboo forests. The orchid square was made up of maybe 5 orchid plants, and the butterfly gallery was a bit meager, with more dead butterflies posted about than live ones (definitely no blue butterflies landing on my shoulder like in La Paz with Barb).
Molly under a weeping willow-like tree.
I found the name of this plant hilarious: "Tongue of Mother-in-law"Later, Molly and I went over to the planetarium. This planetarium was fully equipped, educating us about everything from cave people, evolution, and the dinasours, to Einstein, astronauts, and la via lactea (the Milky Way, pretty much a literal Spanish translation). I couldn't remember the last time I had been in a planetarium, and it was nice sitting back and watching the 25 minute presentation about the stars, planets, and the Andromeda galaxy. Molly and I didn't actually realize that the presentation was intended for children until the end when the voiceover said "queridos niños" (dear children) and realized the language was maybe a bit simple throughout the presentation. But we enjoyed the planetarium, especially when a guide threw us into a room, closed a door, and told us not to hold on (or did she tell us to hold on?) while we simulated our way through the universe to Mars and other planets. Later we got some info from an interactive video about our very own country: apparently we own an archipelago off of Australia called the Mariana Islands. The video likened it to Puerto Rico in the fact that it is a territory of the US and its 69,000-something citizens share US rights. Who know? Molly and I felt a little nonplussed with ourselves for not ever even having heard of these islands that are part of the 'US Commonwealth' and for even knowing that a US Commonwealth existed!
Hangout area outside the planetariumYesterday I went with Eydis from la Corporacion Amiga Joven (where I volunteer) to a talk she gave to 5th graders in one of the poor neighborhoods in Medellin about sexual assault, violence, and prostitution. Controlling 40 11 and 12 year old boys and girls was a job in itself, but a lot of the kids were only craving attention, and become fascinated with me when they found out I was from the US and spoke English. They kept asking me to say things in English, and one boy asked me how to say Playstation in English. 
Later I talked with Eydis about how it breaks your heart to see these kids throw themselves at you, grab your hand after knowing you five minutes, and want to help you with whatever you're doing, as opposed to the US where kids at that age are ridiculously shy and don't warm up to strangers that quickly. Talking about heavy topics like prostitution and pornography with this age group is uncalled of in the US and would have parents ranting and raving to the PTO. But here, the kids are already familiar with these topics, and that's why it's so vital to fill them in and make them aware of what is not ok at this age. They seemed to really get the message at the end, which was really satisfying. After, some girls came up to us and told us about friends or cousins who had been touched inappropriately by a neighbor or uncle, which makes me question why am I so different? Why did I luck out?
Like most of the kids, Laura was obsessed with my camera and offered to pose for a shot. She complained after this photo that I didn't get her whole body.
Friday, April 17, 2009
Photos of my digs
Curiously, it wasn't until just a few days ago that I noticed the huge poster of Jesus looking down over me while I was on the toilet in the bathroom in the apartment.
Here are some photos of the patio outside of the apartment, the living room, and kitchen. It's a pretty sweet deal, this is the only unit in the building that has the patio. Not a terribly great view, but a nice garden.
When I stepped out onto the streets Thursday during Semana Santa (Holy Week before Easter) in Medellin it was ridiculously dead! I ran back inside and grabbed my camera. I have yet to take contrasting pictures of what the streets normally look like, but just image Grand Central during at 5:30 p.m. all the time!
Here are some photos of the patio outside of the apartment, the living room, and kitchen. It's a pretty sweet deal, this is the only unit in the building that has the patio. Not a terribly great view, but a nice garden.
When I stepped out onto the streets Thursday during Semana Santa (Holy Week before Easter) in Medellin it was ridiculously dead! I ran back inside and grabbed my camera. I have yet to take contrasting pictures of what the streets normally look like, but just image Grand Central during at 5:30 p.m. all the time!
Wednesday, April 15, 2009
Getting Things Done
Today I had three things on my agenda: locate peanut butter, do yoga, and practice Portuguese. It is now 5:30 p.m. here and I've only managed to do one of those things-I found peanut butter! It's a tiny container with a random no-name brand that cost me 7,000 pesos (with which I could buy 2 3-course meals with!) but I was in a bit of a desperate need for my American comfort food staple.
I did manage to seek out some English language institutes as well. After the Aussie girl who works for Colombia Reports told me how easy it was to get a teaching job, I figured why not try. The first place I went in to told me that one of their teachers was leaving and that they would hire me. We talked briefly, they went over their teaching 'methodology and asked me briefly if I had any experience (I told them I taught in Costa Rica and Mexico, only half of which is a lie) and I am going to go in tomorrow to discuss the teaching more and then give a sample class. Now I am the first person to understand that just because I speak the language does by no means qualify me to teach it, but Kirsten (the Aussie) reassured me it's not that hard and already having learned a second language helps teach others a language. When I come back to the apartment and shared this info with Giovanni, he informed that that institute I went to was a bit dodgy and his Dutch girlfriend who used to live here quit after a month or so of working there when they didn't pay her. I proceeded to inform him that 1. Dutch teaching English? Maybe that's why they didn't pay her (I'm aware that Europeans get taught like 6 languages at the age of 5, but still!) and 2. this is a USA English institute, so they don't want none of that European 'practiSe' and hard to follow accent. Anyhoo, we'll see tomorrow how it goes.
Besides that, my volunteer work at the Young Woman's Corporation is going well. Up until yesterday I was doing more administrative stuff, helping them design a blog to use instead of a website since they don't have the resources. After doing a bit of research I learned that a blog serves just the same as a website, and got a bit creative designing a header in Photoshop and adding photos to the site. It's still not up and running completely, but when it is I'll share. After doing a lot of office stuff, I had the desire to do something more personable with the organization. So yesterday I attended my first of the group meetings that they do in poorer neighborhoods with girls ages 10-16. The point of the meetings is for the girls to have a place to talk about anything, whether it be sex and violence related, or stuff about school, health, life, etc. About 1o girls showed up for the 2 hour meeting and we did an ice breaker to learn names (I had to revert back to Costa Rica and the infinite amount of games we came up with to play with the local kids) and then did some arts and crafts. One group worked on some sort of collage about family, themselves, and themes that mattered to them, while another group decorated a metaphorical migrating bird. I'm still not entirely sure how productive this was (I did not lead the group, it was a Dutch woman who works for the organization, the DUTCH people are everywhere here!), but the girls seemed to be having fun. It was a bit difficult with the age difference though. Most of them were around 11, while three girls were 15 but looked like they were 18 and ready for a night out on the town! They showed up all done up, with makeup and short shirts and shorts, discussing boyfriends and love. When they asked me how old I was and I told them, they looked shocked, saying they would have guessed 15! Later, a mother of one of the girls came and asked the Dutch woman (who is probably in her late 30s) if I was her daughter, something that wouldn't be unheard of here.
I did manage to seek out some English language institutes as well. After the Aussie girl who works for Colombia Reports told me how easy it was to get a teaching job, I figured why not try. The first place I went in to told me that one of their teachers was leaving and that they would hire me. We talked briefly, they went over their teaching 'methodology and asked me briefly if I had any experience (I told them I taught in Costa Rica and Mexico, only half of which is a lie) and I am going to go in tomorrow to discuss the teaching more and then give a sample class. Now I am the first person to understand that just because I speak the language does by no means qualify me to teach it, but Kirsten (the Aussie) reassured me it's not that hard and already having learned a second language helps teach others a language. When I come back to the apartment and shared this info with Giovanni, he informed that that institute I went to was a bit dodgy and his Dutch girlfriend who used to live here quit after a month or so of working there when they didn't pay her. I proceeded to inform him that 1. Dutch teaching English? Maybe that's why they didn't pay her (I'm aware that Europeans get taught like 6 languages at the age of 5, but still!) and 2. this is a USA English institute, so they don't want none of that European 'practiSe' and hard to follow accent. Anyhoo, we'll see tomorrow how it goes.
Besides that, my volunteer work at the Young Woman's Corporation is going well. Up until yesterday I was doing more administrative stuff, helping them design a blog to use instead of a website since they don't have the resources. After doing a bit of research I learned that a blog serves just the same as a website, and got a bit creative designing a header in Photoshop and adding photos to the site. It's still not up and running completely, but when it is I'll share. After doing a lot of office stuff, I had the desire to do something more personable with the organization. So yesterday I attended my first of the group meetings that they do in poorer neighborhoods with girls ages 10-16. The point of the meetings is for the girls to have a place to talk about anything, whether it be sex and violence related, or stuff about school, health, life, etc. About 1o girls showed up for the 2 hour meeting and we did an ice breaker to learn names (I had to revert back to Costa Rica and the infinite amount of games we came up with to play with the local kids) and then did some arts and crafts. One group worked on some sort of collage about family, themselves, and themes that mattered to them, while another group decorated a metaphorical migrating bird. I'm still not entirely sure how productive this was (I did not lead the group, it was a Dutch woman who works for the organization, the DUTCH people are everywhere here!), but the girls seemed to be having fun. It was a bit difficult with the age difference though. Most of them were around 11, while three girls were 15 but looked like they were 18 and ready for a night out on the town! They showed up all done up, with makeup and short shirts and shorts, discussing boyfriends and love. When they asked me how old I was and I told them, they looked shocked, saying they would have guessed 15! Later, a mother of one of the girls came and asked the Dutch woman (who is probably in her late 30s) if I was her daughter, something that wouldn't be unheard of here.
Long Easter Weekend Getaway
I've been writing a few articles here and there for my roommate's 'Colombia Reports' website. Adriaan's been pleased with my work and has taught me a few things about how to write the article to optimize search results online. Quite interesting and different from just plain ol' journalism. Here's an article I wrote for the travel section about my recent trip to la Honda over the past Easter weekend. I went with my friend Clara, who I actually just met 2 weeks ago when I arrived this second time, but she lives right above us with a cranky señora so she is usually over at our place a lot.
Small town La Honda has something all its own to offer
Some 4.5 million people migrated to their hometowns and vacation destinations during Holy Week this past week in Colombia. I made the journey to a small town called La Honda, located in the state of Tolima and a three hour bus ride west of Bogota, with a friend who is from there. Known as the “City of Bridges,” Honda has plenty of beautiful scenery to offer one relief from the commotion of Colombia’s big cities. The longest river in Colombia, the Magdalena, flows through the heart of Honda, with big grass-covered mountains resting on the outskirts. I spent the majority of my days cooling off in different bodies of water, whether it be the cool freshwater of the plentiful rivers, or the lukewarm pool of a friend’s hotel, in order to escape the 35-plus degree heat and humidity that blankets the small town. It was hard to find a good spot to safely swim in the river though, with recent rains raising the water level and current of many of the rivers in the area to dangerous levels.
Small town La Honda has something all its own to offer
Some 4.5 million people migrated to their hometowns and vacation destinations during Holy Week this past week in Colombia. I made the journey to a small town called La Honda, located in the state of Tolima and a three hour bus ride west of Bogota, with a friend who is from there. Known as the “City of Bridges,” Honda has plenty of beautiful scenery to offer one relief from the commotion of Colombia’s big cities. The longest river in Colombia, the Magdalena, flows through the heart of Honda, with big grass-covered mountains resting on the outskirts. I spent the majority of my days cooling off in different bodies of water, whether it be the cool freshwater of the plentiful rivers, or the lukewarm pool of a friend’s hotel, in order to escape the 35-plus degree heat and humidity that blankets the small town. It was hard to find a good spot to safely swim in the river though, with recent rains raising the water level and current of many of the rivers in the area to dangerous levels.
With my friend’s mother’s help, I enjoyed the pleasures of authentic home-cooked Colombian food. My first day I sampled a dish called rice with hearts, which thanks to Argentina and its passion for all things meat-related, I was actually familiar with and was not completely repulsed by the chewy, elastic chicken hearts. Fortunately the next day lunch was a bit lighter; I tried my first ajiaco, a creamy stew consisting of chicken, potatoes, and corn, served with rice, avocado, and capers. In between meals I snacked on yucca bread, warm little rolls made with the yucca vegetable and cheese, native to Tolima.
Other activities typical of Honda that I engaged in during my three-day stay were the drinking of aguardiente, a black licorice flavored liquor consumed in shot form; taking in views of the Magdalena River from the boardwalk; waiting out downpours outside of a store for hours on end; and almost falling off a friend’s motorcycle while cruising the narrow cobblestoned paths en route to the river because yes, three people can fit on a two-person motorcycle and no, it wasn’t raining too hard.
Located directly on the route from Bogota to Medellin, travelers almost always pass Honda without a care for this little known, quiet town. But it has its own scene, with a striking landscape and vibrant nightlife to compete with the likes of the big bad cities surrounding it.
Monday, April 6, 2009
I Wanna Dance With Somebody
My first weekend back in Medellin and who would have thought it'd be stuffed with culture leaving with me with mixed desires of going back to Argentina, take up violin lessons, and experience a Colombian hip hop club.
Friday night Giovanni, Patrick and I went to a ballet show at the local theater. Of course, after seeing Patrick's spectacular moves around the house, I immediately thought of him when I found out about the show. The show consisted of two parts, classical and neo-classical (a bit more modern) with about 30 dancers, four of whom were boys. Though the dancing was pretty good, the real entertainment was in the costumes. One boy wore nothing but Aladdin-style pants and no shirt, another wore a turquoise furry body-suit topped off with a feather on his head, and another had on a gold number that included a see-through midriff baring top that appeared to be for a 7 year old girl. After this hour and a half spectacle, we caught a cab and met the other roomies at some site that seemed random to me (a pedestrian walkway by the Modern Art Museum with some benches and trees), but was in fact the spot to be. Colombians lined the benches and curbs, hanging out in the street talking, smoking, eating, drinking from YIKES open containers! But this is what I love about Medellin: the relaxed attitude, dozens of people convening in an open space, not really do anything. After we downed the bottle of rum we had bought, we decided to accompany Checho to a salsa bar. We arrive to the underground salsa bar and I immediately see this is no place for amateurs. Right about now I'm thinking "How have I managed to spend so much time in Latin America and never master a basic salsa step?!" and envying Cait and her salsa lessons back in CT right now. Checho tried to spin me around a few times, but I just didn't have enough rum in me to fake it well. When I mentioned to Patrick that I guess I just can't let guys lead me around, he said maybe that's a good thing, which made me feel only slightly better as I observed all of the young Colombian couples salsa-ing effortlessly around the dancefloor.
As if I hadn't learned my lesson the night before, I decided to accompany Giovanni, Patrick, and Patrick's girlfriend to experience some traditional porro music Saturday night (and perhaps I should admit that I might have joined to wrap my mind around this whole May-December (or more like May-April-two-years-later- romance) between 41 year-old Patrick and 18 year-old Daniela. Anyways, porro music it turns out is a mix of salsa, kumbia, and tango, making it EVEN harder to dance to because it has 3 different types of dance that you can mess up. But again, it was fun watching the couples dance (who were all in Patrick's age group) but no matter. The amazing tango show made it worth it, and I realized how much I missed the impromptu tango shows on the streets of Buenos Aires while eating lunch outside or walking around randomly.
And if I hadn't had my fair share of watching and envying the skills of the dancers in Colombia, Sunday I went to a breakdance competition. Breakdancers really do not get enough credit. Not only do they have unbelievable dance moves like balancing on nothing but their forearms with their legs extended and rotating on their head for minutes on end, but their style is just something all on its own. When you think about it, they put more thought into what they're going to wear for the dance-off than they put into their dance moves, since they're all improvised on the spot. But seriously, these breakdancing-offs were really impressive, and I couldn't stop thinking how they would just be phenomenal at yoga with that upper body strength.
Friday night Giovanni, Patrick and I went to a ballet show at the local theater. Of course, after seeing Patrick's spectacular moves around the house, I immediately thought of him when I found out about the show. The show consisted of two parts, classical and neo-classical (a bit more modern) with about 30 dancers, four of whom were boys. Though the dancing was pretty good, the real entertainment was in the costumes. One boy wore nothing but Aladdin-style pants and no shirt, another wore a turquoise furry body-suit topped off with a feather on his head, and another had on a gold number that included a see-through midriff baring top that appeared to be for a 7 year old girl. After this hour and a half spectacle, we caught a cab and met the other roomies at some site that seemed random to me (a pedestrian walkway by the Modern Art Museum with some benches and trees), but was in fact the spot to be. Colombians lined the benches and curbs, hanging out in the street talking, smoking, eating, drinking from YIKES open containers! But this is what I love about Medellin: the relaxed attitude, dozens of people convening in an open space, not really do anything. After we downed the bottle of rum we had bought, we decided to accompany Checho to a salsa bar. We arrive to the underground salsa bar and I immediately see this is no place for amateurs. Right about now I'm thinking "How have I managed to spend so much time in Latin America and never master a basic salsa step?!" and envying Cait and her salsa lessons back in CT right now. Checho tried to spin me around a few times, but I just didn't have enough rum in me to fake it well. When I mentioned to Patrick that I guess I just can't let guys lead me around, he said maybe that's a good thing, which made me feel only slightly better as I observed all of the young Colombian couples salsa-ing effortlessly around the dancefloor.
As if I hadn't learned my lesson the night before, I decided to accompany Giovanni, Patrick, and Patrick's girlfriend to experience some traditional porro music Saturday night (and perhaps I should admit that I might have joined to wrap my mind around this whole May-December (or more like May-April-two-years-later- romance) between 41 year-old Patrick and 18 year-old Daniela. Anyways, porro music it turns out is a mix of salsa, kumbia, and tango, making it EVEN harder to dance to because it has 3 different types of dance that you can mess up. But again, it was fun watching the couples dance (who were all in Patrick's age group) but no matter. The amazing tango show made it worth it, and I realized how much I missed the impromptu tango shows on the streets of Buenos Aires while eating lunch outside or walking around randomly.
And if I hadn't had my fair share of watching and envying the skills of the dancers in Colombia, Sunday I went to a breakdance competition. Breakdancers really do not get enough credit. Not only do they have unbelievable dance moves like balancing on nothing but their forearms with their legs extended and rotating on their head for minutes on end, but their style is just something all on its own. When you think about it, they put more thought into what they're going to wear for the dance-off than they put into their dance moves, since they're all improvised on the spot. But seriously, these breakdancing-offs were really impressive, and I couldn't stop thinking how they would just be phenomenal at yoga with that upper body strength.
Sunday, April 5, 2009
Not Quite the Typical Colombian Household
Ok so before this blog goes any farther, I need to give a brief overview of the five guys who I am living with here in Medellin, so my stories that follow won't seem quite so strange:
First we've got Jimmy, who is in his mid 20s, stays in his room all day (he currently has sequestered his younger sister who is visiting for a...week? and I've seen her for all of five minutes when she makes brief trips to the kitchen to help her brother cook), and after I left in December had been pestering me via MSN messenger with requests of bringing another gringa with me when I came back to Medellin. Sorry Jimmy. Since he never really leaves his room, he's become pretty good at maintaining relationships with women via the telephone. He currently is unemployed and lives off the little money his mother supplies him with and the 200,000 pesos he charges 2 other roommates a month to be their personal chef.
That leads me to the other 2 foreigners living here, a Dutch guy named Adrian illegally residing here for over a year who I have never seen go without a cigarette for more than 20 minutes, and Patrick, an English guy in his 40s who was living in Spain but wanted a change in scenery so picked Medellin, Colombia as his destination with no knowledge of any other place in Latin America. Not bad if you ask me, but if that doesn't seem a bit strange well how about these other clues: fluttering about the room when we play any kind of music, demonstrating his ballet poses that just weren't good enough for a real ballet company as he sadly found out as a teenager after years of classes; apart from the one meal a day Jimmy cooks him, only eats arepas (these tortilla-like Colombian staple) that he heats up on the stove and then forgets about, so he only ever gets to eat half of the pack after burning the other half; never leaves the apartment, working from his laptop in his room for the Spanish company and when he does leave, it is only go to pick up his ahem, 18 year-old Colombian girlfriend (!!) who got whisked away to Bogota by her mother, but who Patrick tries to whisk right back to Medellin every weekend, until she gets her passport so they can whisk off together to the Canary Islands.
The other two Colombians are pretty normal compared to these other characters. Giovanni is in his late 20s, has a 6 year old (the norm here) and works with Adrian on Colombia Reports, an English language Colombia news web site for expats living in or out of Colombia. And then there's Checho, who wears a different pair of tinted prescription lenses every day, goes to his job at a bank in a corduroy blazer and t-shirt underneath, and is very tranquilo with lots of "amiguitas" instead of having any one serious relationship after getting his heart broken by his wife when they went to the US on vacation to repair their relationship and she ended up staying there, marrying an American, and moving to Norwalk, CT.
Three Colombians, a Dutch guy, an English guy, add a loca gringa to the mix, yep, sounds about right.
First we've got Jimmy, who is in his mid 20s, stays in his room all day (he currently has sequestered his younger sister who is visiting for a...week? and I've seen her for all of five minutes when she makes brief trips to the kitchen to help her brother cook), and after I left in December had been pestering me via MSN messenger with requests of bringing another gringa with me when I came back to Medellin. Sorry Jimmy. Since he never really leaves his room, he's become pretty good at maintaining relationships with women via the telephone. He currently is unemployed and lives off the little money his mother supplies him with and the 200,000 pesos he charges 2 other roommates a month to be their personal chef.
That leads me to the other 2 foreigners living here, a Dutch guy named Adrian illegally residing here for over a year who I have never seen go without a cigarette for more than 20 minutes, and Patrick, an English guy in his 40s who was living in Spain but wanted a change in scenery so picked Medellin, Colombia as his destination with no knowledge of any other place in Latin America. Not bad if you ask me, but if that doesn't seem a bit strange well how about these other clues: fluttering about the room when we play any kind of music, demonstrating his ballet poses that just weren't good enough for a real ballet company as he sadly found out as a teenager after years of classes; apart from the one meal a day Jimmy cooks him, only eats arepas (these tortilla-like Colombian staple) that he heats up on the stove and then forgets about, so he only ever gets to eat half of the pack after burning the other half; never leaves the apartment, working from his laptop in his room for the Spanish company and when he does leave, it is only go to pick up his ahem, 18 year-old Colombian girlfriend (!!) who got whisked away to Bogota by her mother, but who Patrick tries to whisk right back to Medellin every weekend, until she gets her passport so they can whisk off together to the Canary Islands.
The other two Colombians are pretty normal compared to these other characters. Giovanni is in his late 20s, has a 6 year old (the norm here) and works with Adrian on Colombia Reports, an English language Colombia news web site for expats living in or out of Colombia. And then there's Checho, who wears a different pair of tinted prescription lenses every day, goes to his job at a bank in a corduroy blazer and t-shirt underneath, and is very tranquilo with lots of "amiguitas" instead of having any one serious relationship after getting his heart broken by his wife when they went to the US on vacation to repair their relationship and she ended up staying there, marrying an American, and moving to Norwalk, CT.
Three Colombians, a Dutch guy, an English guy, add a loca gringa to the mix, yep, sounds about right.
Wednesday, April 1, 2009
Have I been here before...?
*precursor*
After 2 months at home in Chester, CT substitute teaching and interpreting at various medical appointments around the state, after taking weekend getaways to Ithaca, NYC, Boston, and DC, after experiencing the horror that is the US economy and job market, I was left with only one option: get out. fast. My only dilemma was where. I considered returning to my first Latin American love: Mexico, but decided against it as I had already dedicated 6 months of my time (3 years if you count a certain Latin love affair) there and wanted to be fair to the other Latin American countries (and other potential Latin love affairs). So after debating it, going back and forth way too much and having too many restless nights, I made my decision: Medellin. I came here back in December for a week and loved it-perfect climate, pretty clean city, easy to use public transportation, and very friendly people. So I bought my ticket, one-way. What was I going to do in Medellin for who knows how many months? Ni idea. But I had somewhere to stay and some random Colombian friends who I'd met back in December for all of one week so, why not?
I arrived two days ago and not much has changed, which is nice. The same crazies are still there, people are still selling cell phone calls for 8 cents on the street, and rain pours down from clouds that emerged out of nowhere for an hour followed by blissful sunshine, like in December. But apparently I missed some things when I was here last time. My first day while walking around with my friend Giovanni, we kept running into his friends and he would introduce us. I would proceed to do the kiss on the cheek, but after a few of these meet and greets, Giovanni turns to me and states: "oye eso no se hace aqui." Apparently if I do not know the person I am supposed to just shake their hand and ya, no beso. Boy did I feel silly after that. Nonetheless, I was struck with recollections of walking with Miguel into a bar or room in Mexico full of all of his friends who were strangers to me and having to make the rounds and kiss all ten of 2o of them on the cheek. I distincly remember getting tired of it that by the end I would lean my head into theirs and end up slamming my cheek into theirs. Well, glad we cleared that up.
Another thing that has managed to slip my mind which astounds me after having to ingrain it into the brains of 16 year-old teenagers the entire summer in Costa Rica is: Don't put toilet paper in the toilet! AHHHH. Luckily I've managed to realize my mistake now (after 48 hours here!) without any embarassing toilet clogs and having to figure out how to say plunger in Spanish.
After 2 months at home in Chester, CT substitute teaching and interpreting at various medical appointments around the state, after taking weekend getaways to Ithaca, NYC, Boston, and DC, after experiencing the horror that is the US economy and job market, I was left with only one option: get out. fast. My only dilemma was where. I considered returning to my first Latin American love: Mexico, but decided against it as I had already dedicated 6 months of my time (3 years if you count a certain Latin love affair) there and wanted to be fair to the other Latin American countries (and other potential Latin love affairs). So after debating it, going back and forth way too much and having too many restless nights, I made my decision: Medellin. I came here back in December for a week and loved it-perfect climate, pretty clean city, easy to use public transportation, and very friendly people. So I bought my ticket, one-way. What was I going to do in Medellin for who knows how many months? Ni idea. But I had somewhere to stay and some random Colombian friends who I'd met back in December for all of one week so, why not?
I arrived two days ago and not much has changed, which is nice. The same crazies are still there, people are still selling cell phone calls for 8 cents on the street, and rain pours down from clouds that emerged out of nowhere for an hour followed by blissful sunshine, like in December. But apparently I missed some things when I was here last time. My first day while walking around with my friend Giovanni, we kept running into his friends and he would introduce us. I would proceed to do the kiss on the cheek, but after a few of these meet and greets, Giovanni turns to me and states: "oye eso no se hace aqui." Apparently if I do not know the person I am supposed to just shake their hand and ya, no beso. Boy did I feel silly after that. Nonetheless, I was struck with recollections of walking with Miguel into a bar or room in Mexico full of all of his friends who were strangers to me and having to make the rounds and kiss all ten of 2o of them on the cheek. I distincly remember getting tired of it that by the end I would lean my head into theirs and end up slamming my cheek into theirs. Well, glad we cleared that up.
Another thing that has managed to slip my mind which astounds me after having to ingrain it into the brains of 16 year-old teenagers the entire summer in Costa Rica is: Don't put toilet paper in the toilet! AHHHH. Luckily I've managed to realize my mistake now (after 48 hours here!) without any embarassing toilet clogs and having to figure out how to say plunger in Spanish.
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