When In Rome

As five years in Colombia comes to a bittersweet close and I reflect back on all I have seen, experienced, learned, and accomplished here, I can't deny how I have also changed.  I know I've become more flexible, but at the same time less of a push-over.  I've allowed myself to relax and think less while speaking Spanish and dealing with time issues, while becoming more self-aware and analytical of things around me.  


The other day a Colombian colleague said I had been in the country long enough to become platanizado - literally "made into a plantain" - or localized, for lack of a better word.  Definitely a compliment coming from a native Caleño!  And while I know I still stick out like the glowing pink gringo that I am, I clearly have taken in and adjusted to some of the day-to-day nuances that makes living in Colombia special.


So, for those who will come after me and those who are new to this spectacular corner of the world, I present to you...

How To Be Less Gringo and More Colombian 

(or at least Caleño) in 14 Easy Steps

1)  Always answer your phone.  In public, in the bathroom stall, at the movies, in a work meeting: answer it!  This may mean ducking your head under the table, but still the call must not be ignored.  Also, never whisper.  Colombians don't know how to do this into their phones.  Whisper and you might as well wave your US Passport over your head like a flag on Independence Day.

2)  Learn to flap your hand and point with your lips.  Embarrassed?  Shocked?  Excited?  (Really, do you have any emotion at all?)  Then flap your hand back and forth really fast.  If you can make a hissing noise by sucking in air through gritted teeth, people may suspect you're gringo even less.  Now ask someone to pass you that glass over there with your lips; just raise your chin a bit and blow that bottle a long extended kiss.  Yes, no one suspects a thing!

3) & 4) Don't read books in public.  This is the quickest way to pick out a gringo.  Gringos read in public for fun.  Colombians are social.  Even with complete strangers.  If there is, for some strange reason, no one to strike up a conversation with, resort to flagrant staring.  Without sunglasses.

5) Think small.  Learn how to make everything diminutive when you speak.  Segundo doesn't exist for you: instead say segundito, ratico, or minutico.  See that fat chick over there?  Make yourself feel better and call her gordita instead of gorda.  Is the piece of paper you need smaller than 8 1/2 x 11?  Forget it. The paper could be the size of a Mack truck: call it a papelito and move on.


6) Just dance.  Preferably salsa but that doesn't even matter.  Grab a partner and attempt to copy them and/or those around you.  You get points for effort here.  Everyone dances.  If you stay in your chair and watch, tattoo "foreigner" to your forehead now.

7) Order 'guaro without asking and just start pouring shots.*  Never say "Would anyone like aguardiente?"  Just tell the server to get a bottle; no self-respecting Colombian asks people if they want it.  No self-respecting Colombia declines a shot either; start pouring and sticking those tiny plastic shots under people's unsuspecting noses until they toss it back.
*There is the obvious prerequisite of man-up-and-learn-to-drink-firewater-like-a-champ thing that we'll just blow on past.

8) Stand in front of the doors to the MIO bus and don't move.  Ignore all the space behind you where you could be waiting patiently.  It doesn't matter that the electronic sign says the bus for your route won't be pulling up for another seven minutes; stay put.

Bonus "local points" for giving dirty looks to the people who's bus did just pull up and who had to frantically push by you before the doors slid shut.  How rude of them, right?!?  Clearly you were standing there.

9) Once on the bus, sit in the aisle seat and make people crawl over you.  Look, you got there first.  You might be getting off before this complete stranger you know nothing about.  Heaven forbid you scoot over.  Never mind that this person is huge, pregnant, carrying fifteen bags of groceries, is 105 years old with an oxygen tank, if they want a seat they have to work for it and squeeze between your awkwardly turned body and the seat in front of you.  You do this, you are instantly "local."

10) In a crowded restroom, line up directly behind someone at a urinal or in front of a stall door.  If you decide that standing at the restroom door is a better option you might as well, (a) tie a flashing neon sign above your head saying "not from here" and (b) never get to do your business as everyone will simple walk past you to assume their chosen position.

11) Repeat after me: "There is no such thing as a nasty arepa." A true Colombian loves every and all type of arepa.  Even those disgusting little dry white hockey pucks that come obligatorily on the side of everything.  Bonus points for being able to recommend a place that "has the best arepas in Cali" and offer to take the disgusted person there sometime.

12) & 13) Learn that certain places don't have lines that you need to wait in.  Like the corner bakery.  Or the pharmacy.  Even the airport if you're real ballsy.  Also, as long as you preface your cutting-in with a "peguntica" disclaimer (little tiny question...see #4), that makes it okay.

14) Always know where someplace is.  If some one - foreign or domestic - asks for directions to a place you've never heard of, pretend it is literally right around the corner and send them that way.  Repeatedly use words like "cerquita" and hope they just keep walking and don't come back.

Without Words

We've all been reprimanded with the phrase "actions speak louder than words" at one point or another.  And if you're me, your parents cleverly amended this idiom to say "and yours are screaming so loud I can't hear anything else."  In Colombia, this is no exception; sometimes actions can be more effective communication than speaking.

Just as in any culture, there is a unspoken language in Colombia that I find intriguing.  Ever since I arrived I have been fascinated by the little differences in body language that a non-native would notice, that most Colombians take for granted.  For example, beckoning someone to come toward you requires a palm down clawing sweep of the hand versus the North American "come hither" palm-up style.  (Incidentally, the palm-up version is used for animals and therefore offensive here.)

The following video was posted on a friend's Facebook wall recently and I couldn't help but laugh out loud at that fact that some of these have become commonplace for me.  I don't necessarily use them, but when I see people on the street or even in my classroom bust out a "neck cut" or a "lip point," I no longer consider it strange.



It should be noted that my maid is the "'Grave' Floppy Palm" champion and I will confidently pit her against anyone when it comes down to it.  I'm constantly impressed that her hand doesn't fly away, detaching from her wrist bones, with the vigor she utilizes while shaking it back and forth.

What I Really Meant To Say

Consider for a moment, the following scene:  You're having a chat when suddenly the attentive eyes of your conversation partner narrow and a slight furrow crosses their brow.  You hesitate for a second and repeat what you just said, exactly as you just said it.  A slightly more quizzical look.  Now, if this conversation is happening in your newly learned second (third, fourth...) language, you are familiar with the feeling.  You just have to figure out why you are not being understood.  Was it pronunciation?  No, you talk to this person all the time; they "get" your gringo accent.  How about an incorrectly conjugated verb?  Doubtful; the expectation that you conjugate and distribute gender haphazardly is semi-expected and the context clues should have allowed them to comprehend what you were trying to say.

What about a wrong word all-together?  It sounded right though.  It even sounded Spanish.  Then you realize the problem.  Those damn false cognates!  To those who are not language people, these are those pesky words that sound or look like a word in your native tongue, but in fact means something completely different.

False cognates are the meat of any good miscommunication story.  I was reminded of how essential differentiating between these words is twice this past week.  First because an English teacher colleague was doing an activity with her students involving the avoidance of such language in their writing (false cognates obviously work both ways).  She had printed copies of a paper that outlined many such examples and graciously gave a copy to me.

Within the next day I had my own misstep.  While at the ninth grade semester awards ceremony, I was attempting to translate what an English-speaking teacher was giving an award for to our Spanish teacher.  The award was acknowledging a student's improvement over the course of the semester and so I erroneously used the word "improvisando," which, incidentally, is a word.  She asked for clarification and I repeated the same thing, wondering why she didn't understand.  She then let it go.  Meanwhile I played the conversation back again and again until I realized I had told her the student had received the award for "improvising" which, in hindsight, would be a stupid thing to give an award for, unless, perhaps, it was a drama class.  I then turned to her and said "mejorando" and the spark of understanding jumped back into her eyes.

Other common examples of mistakes that I've made in the past include using "equivocado" - which, ironically means "wrong" - when I was attempting to say equivocate.  Or using "nudo" when trying to say naked (actually "desnudo"), which means "joint" or "knot."  Telling a taxi driver to head to the sports arena by saying "arena de deportes" will get you to possibly a giant sand box as "arena" means "sand" and "anfiteatro" or "plaza" are two of the words referring to an arena as English-speakers know it.  "Carpeta" does not mean "carpet," it means "folder" ("alfombra" is carpet), the verb "contestar" means "to answer" while "to contest" something is "impugnar," and "red" in Spanish means "network" while the color of the same spelling is "rojo."

Unfortunately, I have made mistakes with all of them.  However, none have been more blush-inducing than mixing up "embarazada," which refers to being pregnant, for being embarrassed.  To make matters worse, in Colombia "pena" means embarrassment, not its potential homonym friend and fellow false cognate "pain," which is actually "dolor" (which does not mean "dollar").

Had enough?  When I'm at the end of my rope - "cuerda," "ropa" means "clothes" - I try to just laugh it off!  Spanish actually has it right, as they call this part of speech "amigos falsos," or "fake friends."  I literally couldn't have said it better myself!

Say What?

One of the fun things about living in a place where English is not the primary language, other than learning the new one, is discovering words that do not exist in English. Most of these discoveries occur organically through incidental conversation. Other time it happens when a student is attempting to translate something and asks what the English word is, in Spanish. This second option usually results in a round of charades followed by a polling of the class. Eventually, I figure out what they are talking about, but still can not answer their question.

A few examples off the top of my head:

Pequeca In English, we just say "stinky feet smell" or "foot odor." In Spanish (or at least Colombian Spanish) there is a word to describe this particular odor. Since learning it, I have heard it used to describe anything that stinks, but it always stinks "like pequeca."

Estrenar This verb is a fun one since it is very limited in it's use. It means literally, "to wear for the first time." I guess in English we ask a similar question: Are those new shoes? Clearly though, we do not have a verb explicitly for such an occasion.

Vaso Sometimes when I run, I get a "side cramp" or a "side stitch." In reality, this is not very specific for this pain could be anywhere on my side. This word, I learned during our recent Anatomy Unit, refers specifically to the type of side cramp one gets in the lower side of the abdomen, nearish to the spleen. Incidentally, spleen in Spanish is "bazo" which, as one of my brighter students pointed out to me, is a "homophone not by coincidence."

You have to love the things you "learn" from your students...

Calling A Spade A Spade

One of the refreshing and at the same time shocking aspects of Latin American culture and Spanish is the use of adjectives as nouns to describe a person. More accurately, to call a person. This is only shocking to those, like me, who have been raised in a hypersensitive "politically correct" culture where certain words are better and more polite than others.

It is not uncommon to hear someone referred to here as "el gordo" (the fat guy) or "la negra" (the black girl). I imagine people in the northern half of the Americas clumsily tripping over themselves trying to point out "the big-boned gentleman" or "the woman of African ancestry," respectively. If they were to identify someone as "fat" they may get slapped or, at the very least, a disapproving look.

I've been called "gringo" and "mono" as proper nouns enough times that I really should capitalize them. My maid, I'm sure, thinks my name is "joven" (young) and once one of my students referred to me as "el rosadito" (the little pink guy).

With all the blunt name-calling, I've learned to not be offended by being called what I am. However, I was taken aback the other day in the grocery store when the checkout girl, who was all of 20 years old herself, called to get my attention (I was momentarily looking at something else - most likely a shiny object). "Chico!" she yelled. I looked up to find her looking at me. Chico? Really? "Joven," sure. "Muchacho," okay. But "chico"?

I always joke that I look the same age as my students. Maybe 15 years old is a little too generous. Is five better? I guess I'm just be thankful she didn't say "niño."

It's Raining Monkeys

Yesterday around 4:30 in the afternoon it started to rain big fat enormous raindrops and didn't stop for about 12 hours. This is unusual for a couple reasons. The first being that it should not be the rainy season anymore and second because when it does rain here, it is never for that amount of time. Other places in Colombia, sure, but not in Cali.

The streets were flooded past the curbs in some places and looked more like rivers. Within seconds of stepping off the bus I was soaked to the core and still had two more blocks to go to reach my apartment. Crazy lightning and thunder flashed and sounded in every direction around me - the kind that stays from sky to ground in a white streak for 3-4 seconds and rumbles so loud it sets off car alarms, respectively. (I imagine dogs and cats and small children across the city hiding under beds.)

Needless to say, the power went out by 5 and didn't come back on until after midnight. I read by candle-light for a few hours and then basically went to bed at around 8:30. (It gets dark here about 6:15ish all year round.)

Incidentally, I learned a new word recently that came into play during the monsooning storm. The word "mono" means "monkey" in any Spanish dictionary, but here in Cali (and maybe other parts of Colombia) it means the same as rubio(a) or "blonde," as well as the simian noun. So there I am, standing in the rain, waiting to cross the street and this guy on a motorcycle rips by and screams "monooooooo!!!!"

Yes, I have light-colored hair. Thank you. (The thing is, anyone who does not have jet-black hair is a prime candidate to be a mono(a) so it doesn't take much.) I'm positive that this is just another Baader-Meinhof; I know I've been identified as a "monkey" before, I just didn't know it. And now I will.