Famous: I Know "People"

Sometimes its fun to pick up a copy of the local Podunkville town newspaper. Aside from the finding out what the mayor's wife ate for lunch on Tuesday and how the various high school sports teams fared over the week, you can see pictures of your friends and neighbors mowing their lawns, shopping, or attending the parade on Main Street. Some small town "heralds" also publish the recent crimes and traffic accidents, a guilty pleasure of many, especially if names and pictures are involved.

One of my favorite stories of my mother's while growing up was of a time when she and her sister, my aunt, had to go pick up a book from a friends house. On the way home they decided to cruise slowly by the house of a cute guy, you know, just to see if he was home. Even at that slow stalking pace they were inevitably moving at, my aunt managed to crash my grandfathers car into one parked on the side of the road. If it was mortifying to find their car crashed directly in front of the high school stud's house, it was another to get their names in the paper for it!

That is what I associate with when I see common people attending regular functions appearing in the newspaper. Coming from a larger city, one with dualing publications - one from Minneapolis, one from St. Paul - it better be a pretty big deal to get your face in the paper. If I were to see friends of mine staring out at me from the "Local" section for attending a birthday party or grand opening of another Target store, I would think, "must have been a very slow news day!"

This is not the case here in Cali. Every Friday the city's newspaper, El Pais, publishes a pullout section called "Gente" (People). In it, you can see photographs from various anniversary parties, weddings, business openings, and, most commonly, fifteenth birthday parties (quinceaneras). My students have appeared many times and I often can't help but feel like I've spotted a celebrity when I flip the page and see Maria Camila in an evening gown or Juan Diego looking dapper in a suit. I find this surprising still, after two years, from a city with over 2 million people.

Recently, however, I have been inducted into the "Gente" club. Not the real "Gente" but the minimalized page that appears occasionally in the regular non-Friday editions. This time it was for the recent Honor Society induction ceremony that happened at school. I serve as one of the sponsors for the Jr Honor Society and was, therefore, present for my 9th graders.

The picture shows me standing with, from left to right, my co-Jr. Honor Society sponsor, the Honor Society sponsor (and fellow colleague in the science department), and our school's director.

I waiting to get recognized on the street. Any day now...

Quarantined!

I mentioned in the previous post that several students fell ill for various reasons on our trip to Isla Gorgona. I actually typed that very same post feeling slightly under the weather, myself; I then spent the rest of the three days since we got back in bed drinking inhuman amounts of fresh squeezed orange juice from the corner grocery store.

Today I feel fine. I'm going to assume that most of the other students from our make-shift island infirmary are also up and about. The same can not be said, however, for one girl, who doctors on the island hypothetically diagnosed as having Dengue fever. It turns out that while her symptoms are Dengue-like, the tests all come back negative. The school has now decided that, until her more comprehensive results come back on Friday, all the 9th graders from the trip and chaperones are quarantined from school, incase others are carrying whatever this "bug" is.

Just when I'm feeling well enough to be productive again, I'm not allowed to be. I wonder what time the Tuesday matinee shows are at the movie theatre?

Somos Pacífico

There is a song by a Colombian hip-hop group, ChocQuibTown, that sings the praises of being from the Pacific coast of Colombia. The chorus of their hit single "Somos Pacífico" says "We are of the Pacific. We are united. The region unites us. The color, the race, and the gift of flavor."

This tune became the theme song for the 9th grade week-long class trip to Isla Gorgona this past week. Unfortunately, compared to the trip two years ago with the class of 2011, this group wasn't as unified as the song would hope them to be. Not to say the trip was a bust by any means. Most of the kids, I think, had a great time. However, an unusual and disproportionate number of students found many things to complain about, sucking the fun out of their own trip. One group of girls approached me after only three days on the island and told me they thought the trip was too long and we should go home. Compare this to two years ago when girls were crying as we got on the boats to leave the island after a week.

Every class has it's dynamic and this one's reputation as being non-unified, apathetic, and leaderless didn't fail us in Gorgona. Despite the mediocre attitudes of some of the students, it was still a great trip! These are some of my personal highlights:

No hablo inglés.
I was the only gringo on the trip this year. The Dean of Students is from Canada and has been in Colombia for around 18 years so he doesn't really count. And while a couple of the other chaperones are effectively bilingual, the language of function this trip was Spanish. This might be the first group of students to think I'm a lot more capable in the language than I really am.

Watch your step!
The name "Gorgona" is in reference to the Gorgon Women of Greek mythology. In other words, there are a lot of snakes on Isla Gorgona! Last time I was there we had a couple boa sightings. This time, there were the requisite boas, a tiny coral snake and two encounters with the most venomous snake on the island, Bothrops atrox. Known on the island as "talla equis," this pit viper species can be identified by the X shaped markings along it's back. We found one sitting in the middle of the trail one day and our guide successfully navigated us around it, marking it's location afterward by sticking a forked branch in the ground and inserting another stick in the forked area as a sort of arrow to indicate to other guides the snakes one time location. Another less excited encounter came when one of the 9th graders stepped on a tiny baby one that then scurried into the jungle.

Fresh coconut
Three of the days on the island I accompanied a third of the students on a hike to Playa Blanca to carry out their Biology Lab for the trip. All three of those days I was treated to fresh coconut and coconut milk courtesy of the guide. Delicious way to spend a late morning!

The other schools
Marine Biology is not my forté but I do enjoy poking my head below the surface and seeing the incredible diversity of life that exists there. The couple times I got to snorkel on this trip were incredible! I can't remember seeing that many fish of all shapes and sizes in one place. I'd look down and see a pair of parrot fish poking around some brain coral while a school of tiny black and grey fish with florescent green dots by their dorsal fins darted past only to glance above the surface for a moment and have it all replaced by an enormous school of two foot long iridescent fish sailing past. Unfortunately, I was not with the group that was within meters of a humpback whale and her calf.

Turtle Power!
Almost every night, a group of biologists stationed on Isla Gorgona head out in search of sea turtles to measure, weigh, and tag for tracking and research purposes. The biologists invited us to watch this process this year. The night I took a group of students the biologists hauled in four turtles! How they catch them with their bare hands in the dark of the night is beyond me but once on land, the turtles are put in separate wooden boxes and then carried over to the measuring/weighing table one at a time. One of the more interesting things about the research was that they snip a tiny piece of skin from the back of the turtle's neck for DNA classification purposes. Another interesting aspect of the whole process was the use of only red lights; white light (no flash photography or flash lights) was allowed near the research station.

The Amazing Race
The last day on the island includes a visit to a beach on the opposite side of the island from where our lodgings are. We spend all afternoon enjoying the black sand, good sized surf, and cool westward ocean breeze. To get there though, there are two options. The tough can come with me and a few other chaperones and guides and hike the four kilometers to the south and then up and over the middle of the island. The weak or lazy can take the boat. As our intrepid group of 21 hard-core 9th graders exited the jungle and began traversing the first of three beaches before crossing the over the middle of the island, the boat carrying the weak came into view. And we ran. All 21 in unison. Probably the most unifying event of the trip (ignoring the fact that it excluded those on the boat).

In the end, I know the trip was worth it. (Really, when is spending a week on an isolated and near-virgin tropical island not?!?) I would like to think that most of the students had a good time and it is my wish that, upon reflection, the majority of them will look back at their memories and pictures and wish they were back on Gorgona, even those girls who wanted to leave paradise after three days.

My New Roommate

A few weeks ago I discovered I did not actually live alone in my apartment. Occasionally, upon entering the kitchen and flicking on the light I would catch blur of a little gecko as it dashed out of sight, usually behind the microwave. For about a week I would find the little guy hiding amongst the dishes in the sink and, as I turned on the water, he would dart up and out and return to his countertop sanctuary.

I decided to name him Mike (as that is where he seems to live - behind the MICrowave) and we saw each other on a daily basis for about a week and a half. I was just thinking to myself yesterday, as I was preparing to blend a delicious banana/mango smoothie, that I hadn't seen Mike in awhile. Well, today as I went to fry some yucca on the stove, Mike was waiting for me beside the knobs for the gas-top ranges. He sat there nice and still as I turned the burner on, while the yucca fried, and then wriggled away just as I was dishing them up.

This is Mike in the sink. I wonder if it looks like a water park when you're that small?


This is Mike supervising my yucca frying abilities. He must have gotten the memo that I burn things.

Bien Pueda

Colombia is a very welcoming place and the people here are some of the most generous, inviting, and accommodating I've ever met. They often say, "Bien pueda" which means basically, "Sure you can!" (It really doesn't translate exactly.) You hear it when getting into a taxi, entering a store, being offered a chair or place to sit on the bus, borrowing a phone, etc.

So, as I am now settled into my new apartment in my third year in this place I have come to know as home, I say to you, "bien pueda!" Mi casa es su casa. Let's take a tour...


Mi casa desde el punto de vista de la calle. Vivo por el tercero piso. My house from the street view. I live on the third floor.


La calle en frente de mi casa. The street in front of my house.


La entrada (por la izquierda), el cuarto de la huésped, y mi cuarto. The front entrance (to the left), the guest room, and my room.


La sala de estar. The living room.


La sala de estar otra vez. The living room again.


La cosina (desde la sala de estar). The kitchen (from the living room).


La cosina. The kitchen.


Las cordilleras al oeste de Cali. Esta foto sacé desde mi patio. The mountains to the west of Cali. This picture is taken from my back porch.


Mi cuarto. My bedroom.


El cuarto tuyo (el cuarto de la huésped). Your room (the guest room).


Otra vez. Again.

Reservations can be made by email or Facebook. Lodging includes airport pick-up, private bathroom, breakfast, lots of back porch sun, free guided tours of the city, and lots of fun! Bien pueda!

What's In A Name?

The start of every school brings many challenges to a teacher. Every class has it's own dynamic, there are different students with different needs and expectations, and there are the names. The kids have it easy, they have to learn eight new names, many of which they already knew. Teachers, on the other hand, have to learn a bunch and, preferably, quickly!

I the States this didn't ever seem to be a huge challenge; if I had a couple Amber's or Dillon's (or Dylan's) they just weren't seated near each other. Amber and Dillon didn't expect me to learn their middle names and call them by it as well. I also didn't run into too many nicknames in the States. Sure, there were a few but the entire class rarely referred to David as "Booger," just his close friends.

Let's travel south to Colombia. I still get that here. It's not uncommon to have a few too many Mateo's, Daniela's, Laura's, or Isabela's. The trick comes when that is not their whole name. The majority of the people here, it seems, have four names. Two first names that they are often called together, and two last names, the first from their father and the second from their mother. (Incidentally, it is very easy to trace family lineage here!)

My first year here I had five Juan Camilo's. (The two names together remember.) I also had a Juan Sebastian, a Juan Jose, a Juan Manuel, a Juan Francisco, a Juan David, and a Juan Pablo. Fortunately, or unfortunately, depending on how you want to look at it, none of my Juan Camilo's went by "Juan Camilo" - all went by their last name only; a skill they no doubt learned early on when there are five of you in the same graduating class. That year I also had an abundance of Maria "something's: Camila, Isabel, Paula, Paulina, etc. The last two young ladies both went by an abbreviated "Mapi" and were in the same class.

The first year I was also wrestling with pronunciation. Having that under control my second year, I thought would make learning the names easier. I remember being momentarily pleased to see only one a few Juan Camilo's and no Maria Camila's. Suddenly, however, I had five Santiago's and four Valentina's; I had neither my first year! There were the omnipresent Juan and Maria "something's" but not necessarily in replicate. My bigger challenge turned out to be the nicknames.

The first year there were a few bizarre ones, in the sense that it was not related to any of their given names or surnames at all. There was "Chumba," "Tigre" (who got it when she came to school in second grade wearing a Tigger backpack), "Nano," and "Negro." If there were others, I can't remember, and that is what I call them when I see them around campus.

That second year was a zoo of nicknames, literally. I had "Hormiga" (ant), "León" (lion - although it was also his last name), "Mono" (monkey, and also "blond") and "Pollo" (chicken). Ironically, there was also a guy they called "Chicken" because his last name was Gallo, which is literally "rooster" in Spanish. There was kid who had moved to Cali a year from somewhere along the Caribbean coast so he became "Costeño," a name referring to anyone from that region. And, believe me, there were more...

The class lists this year look pretty tame. Again, I'll be up to my ears in Juan Camilo's and variations of Maria but the Santiago's and Valentina's seem to be in check once again. I do however have two Luis's - a Miguel and a Manuel - so that should be fun. The only new name comes in duplicate with two Tatiana's. There are three Juliana's inconveniently placed in the same period. Daniela seems to be the most popular name of the year with a grand total of four.

So, after I master the three Gabriel's and three Gabriela's from the three Alejandro's and three Alejandra's (and one Maria Alejandra), I should have a pretty easy time. Then I'll start attaching last names...

The Autograph Line Starts Over There

¿Me Recuerdas?

A year ago, upon returning back to Cali from summer vacation, I had just finished a trip to the grocery store. After getting into a taxi and greeting the driver, he turned around and asked, "¿El Ingenio?" which was the neighborhood I had lived in during my first year here. I thought it odd, but plausible, that, of all the taxis in Cali, I had gotten some guy twice to drive me somewhere. It was also conceivable that he remembered this freckly red-headed gringo; there're aren't a lot of us running around these parts. What I found weird was that he remembered where I lived! He looked a little disappointed when I told him that, no, I had moved.

Later that month I was riding in the elevator in my apartment building and a girl who also lived in the building got on and asked me if I had been at Tin Tin Deo, a well known Salsateca in Cali. I had been and was a little embarrassed to be that easily spotted. It made me wonder if I've got some name the locals that see me out and about have for me. "Look! It's the pink one!" I can hear it now.

Well, this week I went to the bank to pay my very truant cell phone bill. At banks in Colombia there are usually two lines; one is for people who hold accounts at the bank and the other is for those who do not. The thing is that there are usually several tellers for the non-clients and one or possibly two for those belonging to said financial institution. Unless there is an enormous caravan of customers in the line for those who are not clients, it doesn't really matter which one you go to. Also, although I'm a client at my bank, if I'm there to pay a bill in cash to a third party, I'm not sure where I'm supposed to go. That and I'm paranoid of waiting twenty minutes to be kicked out of line and have to start again so I usually bring a book and err on the side of caution.

As I entered the snaking line for "non-members," the [very attractive] teller calls out to me to get in the other line. So, as the rest of the tellers, guards, and scores of customers turn to look, I did an about face, followed the zig-zagging path out of one line and into the much straighter "member" line.

When I got to the front of the line and was called forward my face was still a nice shade of red; the teller told me so. I asked her if she remembered me and she said yes and looked at me like that was a silly question as if I had asked if there was a big safe in the back room. I suppose it was a little silly. I'm in the bank probably once a month and in June of last year, this same teller was very helpful in helping me deal with another bank over a computer problem and she was the same one who deposited my last paycheck last year. I guess it's not too unbelievable, I mean, I remembered her...

Regardless, in a city of 2 million people, I still find it strange to be recognized by relative strangers. Nice, but strange.

Dusting Off

Every time I fly back into Cali, I feel I have to mentally prepare myself. Are my passport, Colombian ID, and customs forms ready and together? Where is my baggage claim slip? Do I still remember Spanish?

Before I left for the summer last June I moved into a new apartment. It is the upstairs of a house near to where I lived last year. I had only spent two nights there before starting my summer vacation so I had tried to get as much of the place "together" as possible so that I wouldn't walk into a sea of boxes in August (now) after a long day of traveling. I knew there was still plenty to do once I returned: find a new maid, get a washing machine, hang up curtain rods, find someone with a drill so I would be able to hang up the curtain rods, and on and on.

It takes me five keys, two doors and two gates to finally reach the inside of my home. After using three keys and opening a gate and a door, my landlady, who lives downstairs with her husband, noses out to greet me and tell me something about not using the gas. I didn't really catch why but if she doesn't tell me any differently in a few days, I'll ask again. There is a cord running through my kitchen that wasn't there before and, although I'm pretty sure gas does not flow through electric cords, I'm going to assume there is some relation and not touch that for now either.

The apartment is very dusty right now, surprising since it was pretty well closed up the whole time I was gone. This is why I need a maid. The dust here from the streets and air can get a little out of control very quickly and I do not wish to be spending two nights a week dusting off every surface in sight. Also, I was not pleased to find a dead cockroach in the middle of my bedroom floor. Happy, though, in a strange way, that it was a dead cockroach.

There were a couple good surprises though. The aforementioned curtain rods, which I was convinced would become part of the Great Window Covering Saga of August 2009 were miraculously installed! I can only assume the landlords had something to do with this. If I have apartment elves that do nice little favors, I would have appreciated them cleaning the inside of my refrigerator as well. Another fantastic surprise was that I have internet! More accurately, one of my neighbors has really good internet and I am able to "co-op" it...as long as I'm in the bedroom or out on the patio. (This is actually a relief because I had no idea how long getting internet hooked up would take.) I hope this lasts!

Now, if you'll excuse me, I've got some cleaning to do.

Pomp & Circumstance

Congratulations to the graduating Class of 2009!

This morning I attended the graduation ceremony for the seniors at Colegio Bolívar and I decided that I like graduation ceremonies. Other major life events and celebrations I can take or leave, pick or choose. But graduation ceremonies, I decided, are something special.

I think I like them because of the hopeful and determined energy of those in the mortarboards and their parents coupled with my own nostalgia. I like listening to the speakers talk of the future, where they as a collective group have come from, and where they are independently going. I like hearing about these coming aspirations, recollections of friendships, and important memories.

I like hearing these things because I picture, not only my own high school graduation ("double O!"), but also where my life has indeed taken me in the past nine years since then. Looking back, I don't recall a lot of the things I'm guessing one is supposed to be able to remember about graduating from high school.

The few things I can recall about my own ceremony was that I was at the end of my row and my name was written on a large piece of paper in the staging area to let everyone in my row know this is where they needed to be, lest I not show up to indicate it with my presence. I remember one of my best friends, Annie Taff, gave one of the commencement speeches. I remember thinking it was good and being proud of her, but most of all I remember she ended it with her trademark "have fun, kids" line. I also remember being terrified of tripping on my robe in front of the 500 people I was graduating with as I descended the stairs. Fortunately, I also remembered how to walk. There are other tiny things too but those are the main memories, the lasting ones.

One of my other best friends from high school, Laura Hammer, had made her own memory book with all of our senior pictures in it and a survey next to each one. Over the course of the summer following graduation she made us answer the survey, which consisted of future predictions and various favorite this or thats. I only remember that I had said that I wanted to become a teacher and work in either an inner-city school or abroad. (Part of me wants to see that book again now to see what else my optimistic 18 year old self thought to document.)

At 18 I am not sure what I thought, or if I even cared, what being 27 meant. I probably thought it wasn't young but I don't think I thought it was old either. I know I didn't see myself as being married yet and definitely without children. But I do remember being ambitious and wanting to get out, spread out, and find out...about everything. I still feel that way.

I saw that today in the eyes of the graduates and heard it in the words of the speakers. The valedictorian, a guy I got to know through the musical this year, is going to London for school next fall. I went 90 minutes into Wisconsin. But dreams are dreams and I think it's good to be reminded of them. It's good to be reminded of how you felt when you wanted them.

This year is also special for me personally because the freshmen that I started my fledgling teaching career off with back in the fall of 2005 at Washington Junior High in Manitowoc, Wisconsin are also graduating. Four years goes by quickly! I still remember standing in front of my first hour class on the first day of school holding the syllabus in my hands and all 27 of them silently staring back at me, questioning my very existence. I can actually still picture where some of them sat and, if you gave me a list, I could probably put each and every one of them in their respective periods.

I have a special place in my heart for everyone I had that first year; they taught me more about how to be a teacher than I have learned in any one year since then. Some of them have stayed in contact with me since I left for Colombia through random emails and I love knowing what they are doing. I was definitely thinking about all of them today as well, thousands of miles away and almost a week early.

It is my hope that these graduates, both in Cali and Manitowoc, and everywhere else this spring, remember years from now not the words that were said, but the feeling that was created from those words. I think the real reason I like graduations is because, despite the excitement of graduating - the speeches, the college acceptance letters, the tears, and the tossing of the hats - it is what you do afterward, consistently, that leads to the circumstance. I'm now far enough away from the pomp to see that.

¡Felicitaciones a todos del año 2009!

Whip it! Whip it good!

"An iguana's tail can cut you like whip. It is extremely dangerous when provoked."

With these words the lady from the zoo who visited my class in elementary school terrified me forever of those spiky gray-green lizards. Ever since then, every time I've seen an iguana, and up to two years ago that was primarily in captivity, I've pictured that woman and her giant glove holding this grumpy-looking reptile with it's potentially dangerous tail dangling toward the floor, ready to leap into action and slash gaping wounds into all of our flesh at any moment.

Dramatic enough? I was eight. Some things stay with you.

The track at school where I log much of my running time is usually a place I can space out. I don't run with music but I'm used to the circular monotony from years of going up and back in the pool for swimming. The biggest hazards I have to be aware of are errant soccer balls and the ugly little territorial dive-bombing birds when they have eggs or chicks to protect.

The evil chick spawn have flown the coup and soccer season is over, so I was mentally prepared for an obstacle-free run when I rounded the corner and two (plural, mind you) very large iguanas darted across the track in front of me. They had been sunbathing on the side of the track and conveniently camouflaged right into the gravel and grass. I know my adrenaline kicked in, I'm pretty sure I jumped, and there is speculation that the security guard near the gate heard me yelp. (The later is all hearsay and gossip, of course.)

On my running routes in Minnesota and Wisconsin the only thing I had to worry about looking out for were cars and leashless dogs. I suppose this is a good reminder to start preparing again for random attacks from, well, anything.

Next year I'll ask the guards to start shooting at me if I start looking bored maybe...