Obviously, living in another country different from your own brings about the inevitable exposure to cultural differences. Latin American culture is very different from North American culture, as I have experienced and described in other posts. Even within Colombia there are differences in the various regions of the country. However, in some ways, I don't even need to leave school to run into myriad cultural dealings different from my own.
I remember when I moved from Minnesota to Eau Claire, Wisconsin, for college, I was surprised at how different life had been for my friends right across the border. Getting money from Tyme machine instead of the ATM and going to bars with your parents when you were under 21 was a strange new world for me. Later, moving even further into the state for my first teaching job in Manitowoc brought new "cultural" discoveries. In north eastern Wisconsin, for example, a "hot tamale," for some reason, is a sloppy joe sandwich, and the use of the non-word "yous" is common and acceptable both in spoken and written communication (as in "can yous give me a hot tamale?").
At Colegio Bolivar I am blessed to be working with a richly diverse faculty of Colombia, American, and Canadian teachers. With this cornucopia of backgrounds and experiences, it is not surprising that terminology and ideas are influenced and melded together.
I was reminded recently, after passing back an exam to my 9th graders, of how confusing these differences in terminology from the different import teachers can be for the students. Aside from saying "eh," Canadian teachers bring a different pedagogical terminology to the academic table.
For example, when I was in school, I "took" tests; my students now "take" tests. In Canada, students "write" tests. This is confusing for obvious reasons because, in my mind, I write the test and the students take them. Why would a student write a test? I suppose a Canadian could rightfully argue that it would be inappropriate for a student to take a test though. "To where are they talking it, eh?" I imagine would be legitimate question.
To further compound the student's confusion, when I "grade" an assignment or exam, a check mark or a slash through an answer usually means the response was incorrect. When a Canadian "marks" an assignment or exam, the same checkmark or slash means it is correct. Maybe that is why some students don't break down in despair when they get an exam back full of red checks; they probably think they aced it!
With there currently being 5 American teachers, 5 Canadians, and 15 Colombians in high school alone, I do not envy the confusion I'm sure many of the students face on a yearly basis learning a new language and deciphering the nuances of Canadian and American phraseology. Maybe next year the school can hire a couple Brits and an Australian so we can continue to confuse everyone.
Friday, April 18, 2008
Saturday, March 22, 2008
Me Tarzan
I think that at one point or another most elementary-aged kids go through a stage in which they are interested in the rain forest. I remember my own elementary days of creating a rainforest out of the hallway by the cafeteria in art class and building dioramas for display in the library – although the intrinsic purpose of the dioramas escapes me now. Either way, to me, the rainforest was this mysterious place only truly accessible to researchers and people working for National Geographic; I probably would never go there.
This past week, however, I got the amazing experience of spending four days buried deep in the Amazon rainforest in the Heliconia Reserve about four degrees south of the equator and off an Amazon River tributary, the Yavarí River, in what is technically Brazil.
For our Semana Santa (Holy Week) or Spring Break vacation another teacher friend, Tina, and I boarded a plane in Bogotá for a two hour flight to Leticia, a small town in the southernmost tip of Colombia, where it meets with Peru and Brazil. Aside from using the river or a plane, there is no other conceivable way in or out of this region of the country; it truly is isolated in the middle of the jungle.
This being the rainy season (although I have to believe that there is still a consistent amount the rest of the year in order to maintain the moniker of “rain” forest one assumes a certain amount of constant precipitation) the water level was at the cresting point and all of the shoreline was hidden and most of the trees seemed to grow out of the river itself. Upon arriving at the reserve the staff greeted us warmly and served a wonderful fish dinner. Oddly enough, we were the only two guests present that first night so we were able to hang out in the lodge and converse with Israel, the wonder kitchen mother, and several of the guides. It was a great way to practice our Spanish. They decided to name me Tarzan because they could say that so I was “Tarzan” the rest of the week.
Our cabana consisted of beams and screens with beds enclosed in mosquito netting. There was a toilet “room” and a shower “room.” I say “room” because the outside wall was non-existent and as you did your business, you looked out at the marvel that was the jungle. It reminded me of the forest wallpaper my parents have behind the entertainment center in the basement except it moved.
After bidding everyone a buena noche we made out way to said cabana only to discover a (large - to us) medium-sized tarantula on top of my mosquito netting. After calling for help and not getting any response, we haphazardly attempted to smash it with a pair of shoes only to have it retreat into a crack in the wall. We conceded defeat and, only after pulling my bed away from the walls, secured our mosquito nets and drifted off to sleep. I’m sorry – that’s a lie. Have you ever been tempted to buy one of those “Ocean Sounds” or “Jungle Sounds” CDs to help you sleep? I haven’t and I am now certain I never will. Not really a settling noise when you know the rattling trees or chirps or screeches are real and potentially meters from your head. I’ll take passing traffic any day.The next few days our personal guide, Jimmie, took us on nature hikes, canoe outings, fishing, and swimming. On our hikes we saw termite mounds, more tarantulas (bigger ones), frogs, parrots, monkeys, eagles, and a dead anaconda complete with circling vultures. He also showed us how the rubber (caucho) is harvested from the rubber trees the way the indigenous tribes did it so that the trees did not die. He also showed us trees with medicinal value including one to prevent constipation (that was a fun game of charades) and itching from bug bites. SAVE THE RAINFOREST PEOPLE! THERE'S GOOD STUFF IN THERE!!!
On the river we canoed, saw freshwater pink river dolphins, and went for a quick swim. Jimmie told us the middle of the river was fine and that all the snakes, crocodiles, piranhas, and electric eels were over near the trees. He also jumped in first. We went fishing for piranhas and, although both Tina and I got nibbles, Jimmie was the only successful fisherman. He caught two fish, one being a piranha and both being small. He then took a small leaf and said, “Este es su dedo (This is your finger)” and stuck the thing into the piranha’s mouth where it promptly made hole puncher-worthy bite cuts out of the leaf’s margins. Crazy stuff. I’m glad it wasn’t my dedo.
My two favorite things we did was a night outing in which we floated peacefully in the canoe and Jimmie told us the indigenous people’s legend of the pink dolphin. This was fun mostly because we had to work together to translate it and because it was a good story. Well, based on how we translated it, it was. The other was a night outing in the boat were we went looking for caiman crocodiles. Apparently caimans in the Amazon and deer in North America have the same paralytic habit of doing nothing when a bright light is shown in their eyes. All you need to catch a caiman is a flashlight and a quick hand. Jimmie caught a small one (about a foot long) and attempted two others. (One of the others was about three feet long and he wisely retracted his reach and the other just got away.) The second night Tina was alone in the cabana before dinner and a large gecko lost it’s grip and fell (or jumped, depending on who’s story you are hearing) on her arm. She flipped out, screamed, and the gecko lost its tail as geckos often do when frightened so at least they are even. Either way, the entire staff and a few of the newly arrived guests all went running to “save her.” It was pretty funny and we all laughed about it later. That and when Tina took a swing of the homemade bug repellent we made in an old water bottle. This actually happened while we were asked to help translate (!) for a couple from Germany who spoke good English but not much beyond “hola.” Needless to say, it was an interesting impression of us they will take back to Germany.
After four days in the jungle, we said our goodbyes and Israel took us on another three hour boat ride. We stopped briefly to get gas on this island village, Santa Rita, which turned out to be part of Peru, so Tina and I went for a short walk. I’m not sure it this truly counts as visiting another country but it’s a start.
We found a hotel in Leticia, showered up (without having to immediately apply bug juice and feel instantly dirty again), and headed for Brazil. Normally Americans have to pay a hefty visa fee to travel in Brazil (apparently America charges Brazilians a ton to travel in the States so it is reciprocated) but since the town essentially connected to Leticia, Tabatinga, is in the same isolated situation that Leticia is in, they turn a blind eye. It’s not likely we would turn up in Rio de Janeiro in a few days. During the walk we discussed what one has to do to claim they “visited a country.” We came to the decision that money needs to be exchanged so we proceeded to have lunch. We also got Brazilian change so that has to count. Then, on our way out of town back to good ole Colombia, we bought flip-flops with little Brazilian flags on them. Tell me that that is not “visiting a country!”
Leticia turned out to be a really pleasant and very safe town – actually one of the safest feeling I have visited in Colombia. This may have something to do with the need for tourism…and the easily 2,000 troops stationed throughout the town. You couldn’t turn your head without seeing at least one soldier. One of the unique sights in Leticia is the Parque Santander where each night at around dusk thousands of parrots roost for the night in the trees. The guidebook says they arrive “screeching” but to hear it does not do the book’s description justice. It is almost deafening. You go from thinking, “Oh look at all the little green parrots landing in the trees” to “Seriously! Shut up!”
Friday morning I woke up to find a bakery for breakfast and accidentally joined a Good Friday processional though out the streets of Leticia. The church (I say “the” since there is probably only one) set up the Catholic 12 Stations of the Cross at various places along the processional route and as “Jesus” and the congregation/city of Leticia walked behind, a truck drove along slowly playing Hymns and the priest narrated the story. It was fun since I had a basic frame of reference I was able to understand a good 80% of what he was saying.
Not bad for Tarzan, eh? Also, not bad for a kid who thought the closest he’d get to the rainforest would be the wall outside his elementary school cafeteria.
Monday, March 10, 2008
I Start Walkin' Your Way...
Saying it has been a wild news week in Colombia would be an understatement. Saying that things have actually been wild in Colombia would be quite the opposite. Despite the shocking headlines of Colombia being “on the brink of war” and statements about “sabers” and the like, life in Colombia this past week was essentially the same as it has always been.
I did find it interesting to read the headlines each day on Yahoo! News or CNN.com and find out what had happened politically and how it was being sold to readers. Granted, if this had been a year ago and I was reading such headlines about my future home I would have been concerned. Being in the midst of it, however, was a whole other story; mainly that there wasn’t much in that midst.
A little background to put this into perspective: The FARC have been terrorizing many in Colombia for decades. They are one of the biggest para-military groups in the region and are very leftist and get their money through the cocaine trade and ransom from kidnappings. The current president, Alvaro Uribe, has made significant strides to limit the FARC and their activities.
The problem is that other countries in the region, namely Venezuela and Ecuador, have not. This could be due to the fact that the people of these countries were not, until recently affected by their activities, or that the leaders may or may not have been getting monetary kick-backs.
When Colombia stormed a mile or so across the Colombia-Ecuador border to attack a FARC camp in the jungle, and incidentally killing one the top FARC leaders, this upset a lot of people. The only ones who should have realistically been upset would have been Ecuador, whose border was crossed without permission. Venezuela, or more accurately, Venezuelan president Hugo Chavez, lead the charge and made a big stink, often times speaking for the Ecuadorian president. (To make a point, I can’t even tell you without looking it up what the Ecuadorian president’s name is since he had such little voice in all this with Chavez shooting his mouth off all over the place. The Ecuadorian president's name is Correa - but I did have to look it up.)
Uribe issued an apology saying something along the lines of “we will not invade another country without permission again…so long as they are not harboring terrorists at their borders.” I love the added clause which, in my opinion, is completely justifiable.
In the mean time two things are happening. First is that the contents of a laptop found at this FARC camp is being analyzed and accusations are flying all over about all kinds of people and connections, namely that Chavez was funding the FARC. Ah! No wonder he is getting all hot and bothered over this. The second thing that is going on is the Chavez keeps running is mouth and orders troops to the border. He eventually closed the border for a few days.
The thing about this border, and why it sounds worse in the media than it really is, is that there is nothing there, really. Now, I have never been to this area of the country myself, and I probably never will, but I have not found one person who has either. If you look at a political map of Colombia, you will see that most of the population resides in cities or towns along the Andean Mountain range, mostly running north and south along the western half of the country. A whole bunch of Colombia is unpopulated. This includes a lot of the Venezuelan border. (This is also true on the other side in Venezuela!) In all seriousness, Chavez could have secretly had his troops cross the border and not man people would have known about it – since no one lives there!
So, really, it was a very safe threat to make. It sounded really intense and volatile to the international community and media, who are used to having people living near borders, and yet those in the involved countries collectively shrugged.
Well, the politicians didn’t shrug, just the rest of us. (Except for Ecuador’s nameless president who didn’t get many sound bytes out of a situation involving his country. He probably shrugged a little.) There was some head shaking too over Chavez. Every taxi driver I talked to, out of curiosity over their opinion mostly, told me they think he is certifiably nuts. This is true of the common people in Venezuela as well, where Chavez has cut off trade and thus dairy and meat products to his own people. His approval rating is dangerously low – as in overthrow low.
(Another reason Chavez may be having a bad taste in his mouth, so to speak against Colombia, many feel is out of jealousy. Colombia is U.S. backed AND has a lot of the rest of the world more willing to associate with them than Chavez or Ecuador. Some countries, Cuba and Castro most recently, like to throw the old "America trying to run the world" card around. However, in this situation it is important to remember that the U.S. does have a say because they fund a big part of the Colombian military and have since about 2000 because of the increased effect the narco-trafficking was having on the U.S., on U.S. soil. This does concern them.)
Well, this past weekend, all these fine leaders met in the Dominican Republic and signed a peace statement agreeing to play nice. Uribe also extended his apology again, reiterating his initial clause.
In unrelated but ironic news, with the “threat of war” gone, the good people of Cali decided to riot at a soccer game between the cities two major teams and major rivals. (Think Green Bay Packers and Minnesota Vikings x 10 and then remember that it is soccer and we are in a Latin American country.) The riot resulted in two dead and a bunch more injured including a stabbed pregnant lady.
But at least we aren’t at war, right?
I did find it interesting to read the headlines each day on Yahoo! News or CNN.com and find out what had happened politically and how it was being sold to readers. Granted, if this had been a year ago and I was reading such headlines about my future home I would have been concerned. Being in the midst of it, however, was a whole other story; mainly that there wasn’t much in that midst.
A little background to put this into perspective: The FARC have been terrorizing many in Colombia for decades. They are one of the biggest para-military groups in the region and are very leftist and get their money through the cocaine trade and ransom from kidnappings. The current president, Alvaro Uribe, has made significant strides to limit the FARC and their activities.
The problem is that other countries in the region, namely Venezuela and Ecuador, have not. This could be due to the fact that the people of these countries were not, until recently affected by their activities, or that the leaders may or may not have been getting monetary kick-backs.
When Colombia stormed a mile or so across the Colombia-Ecuador border to attack a FARC camp in the jungle, and incidentally killing one the top FARC leaders, this upset a lot of people. The only ones who should have realistically been upset would have been Ecuador, whose border was crossed without permission. Venezuela, or more accurately, Venezuelan president Hugo Chavez, lead the charge and made a big stink, often times speaking for the Ecuadorian president. (To make a point, I can’t even tell you without looking it up what the Ecuadorian president’s name is since he had such little voice in all this with Chavez shooting his mouth off all over the place. The Ecuadorian president's name is Correa - but I did have to look it up.)
Uribe issued an apology saying something along the lines of “we will not invade another country without permission again…so long as they are not harboring terrorists at their borders.” I love the added clause which, in my opinion, is completely justifiable.
In the mean time two things are happening. First is that the contents of a laptop found at this FARC camp is being analyzed and accusations are flying all over about all kinds of people and connections, namely that Chavez was funding the FARC. Ah! No wonder he is getting all hot and bothered over this. The second thing that is going on is the Chavez keeps running is mouth and orders troops to the border. He eventually closed the border for a few days.
The thing about this border, and why it sounds worse in the media than it really is, is that there is nothing there, really. Now, I have never been to this area of the country myself, and I probably never will, but I have not found one person who has either. If you look at a political map of Colombia, you will see that most of the population resides in cities or towns along the Andean Mountain range, mostly running north and south along the western half of the country. A whole bunch of Colombia is unpopulated. This includes a lot of the Venezuelan border. (This is also true on the other side in Venezuela!) In all seriousness, Chavez could have secretly had his troops cross the border and not man people would have known about it – since no one lives there!
So, really, it was a very safe threat to make. It sounded really intense and volatile to the international community and media, who are used to having people living near borders, and yet those in the involved countries collectively shrugged.
Well, the politicians didn’t shrug, just the rest of us. (Except for Ecuador’s nameless president who didn’t get many sound bytes out of a situation involving his country. He probably shrugged a little.) There was some head shaking too over Chavez. Every taxi driver I talked to, out of curiosity over their opinion mostly, told me they think he is certifiably nuts. This is true of the common people in Venezuela as well, where Chavez has cut off trade and thus dairy and meat products to his own people. His approval rating is dangerously low – as in overthrow low.
(Another reason Chavez may be having a bad taste in his mouth, so to speak against Colombia, many feel is out of jealousy. Colombia is U.S. backed AND has a lot of the rest of the world more willing to associate with them than Chavez or Ecuador. Some countries, Cuba and Castro most recently, like to throw the old "America trying to run the world" card around. However, in this situation it is important to remember that the U.S. does have a say because they fund a big part of the Colombian military and have since about 2000 because of the increased effect the narco-trafficking was having on the U.S., on U.S. soil. This does concern them.)
Well, this past weekend, all these fine leaders met in the Dominican Republic and signed a peace statement agreeing to play nice. Uribe also extended his apology again, reiterating his initial clause.
In unrelated but ironic news, with the “threat of war” gone, the good people of Cali decided to riot at a soccer game between the cities two major teams and major rivals. (Think Green Bay Packers and Minnesota Vikings x 10 and then remember that it is soccer and we are in a Latin American country.) The riot resulted in two dead and a bunch more injured including a stabbed pregnant lady.
But at least we aren’t at war, right?
Wednesday, February 27, 2008
One Ride Around the Sun
I’ve been getting several requests for updates and concerns that something has happened and I no longer have the means/desire to write blogs. Worry not – I’m fine and still living it up Caleño-style; I just haven’t had any adventures up to par with some of the previous postings.
Regardless, for those of you inquisitive enough or interested in bit of vicarious living, I will give you a little day to day update:
Right now I’m reclined in my hammock five floors up from street level with my computer n my lap. (My keyboarding teacher from elementary school would not approve.) It is only about 8pm right now but it has been dark for about two hours already. Such is life so close to the equator; 12 hours of daylight and 12 hours of starry skies become the norm. It is actually surprisingly quiet tonight. A motorbike just tore down the street but other than that I can hear a baby crying somewhere semi-close and the lights of the barrios on the mountainside are twinkling away. It is hazy at the top of the mountains so I can’t make out the tops but I can see some stars directly overhead. Perhaps it is some more rain clouds rolling in; this is a theme recently as the region’s second rainy season allegedly began about a week ago. From what I’ve seen thus far, this season is living up to it’s name much more than the previous one in November/December. Seriously though, two?!? C’mon.
I spend many of my evenings and weekends reclined in this manner here on my balcony, reading, napping, writing, grading papers, daydreaming, thinking about going for a run, napping again. It’s a good place to be.
Most weekends I enjoy some time to sleep in. When the teacher bus comes at barely daybreak each morning, sometimes 7am is sleeping in, but I usually abuse the term and roll out around 10am. I then convince my lazy ass to do something so I put on my Speedo and some running shorts, shirt, wrap my goggles around my wrist, stuff a swim cap and granola bar down my shorts somewhere (don’t judge) and head off for a three mile run to school. I usually attempt a breathless conversation with the guard at the gate. I, thankfully, no longer have to introduce myself as a teacher anymore, although I’m sure they have other names for me. I like to think of them calling me “that little pink boy on a suicide mission” but they just say “Hola, Profi.” I’ll swim for a ½ hour or 1500-2000m and then run back. I take my time and enjoy the pain so it tends to be a two-hour round trip. (The granola bar gets eaten pre-swim, in case you were wondering.)
This could happen both Saturday and Sunday or just one of the two. Occasionally I just run and skip the swim; God knows I’ve logged enough miles in the water for a lifetime. Another teacher friend who I run with most days after school, Sarah, has joined a running club that begins and ends their runs in a park near my house. She has tried to convince me to join them on several weekend runs but I just can’t seem to do it. It’s not for not trying either; I’ve set my alarm to meet them at 6am at least three different times. After years of forcing myself out of my warm bed to hurl my unwilling body into icy pools for morning swim practices, I just can’t bring myself to do it! Especially not when it is purely recreational…and I know I’ll go later.
Recently, I have begun a new Sunday tradition that I like to consider “Me Time”. After a possible late morning workout, I walk to the nearby mall, head to the movie theatre, buy a ticket for a show most of you would probably remember seeing on a marquee months ago for later in the day, head to the book store that sells overpriced American magazines, then make for the food court for some Chinese and a “good” read. Finally, when the time is right, I go back to the movie to laugh alone in the darkness because something didn’t translate, or at least laugh early. Then some quick grocery shopping for the next school week; I can’t forget the mangos and avena (oat-milk drink)! It makes for a nice Sunday afternoon.
School has been going well. My 9th grade biology classes are well into our genetics unit. Surprisingly, I think, they have not had any genetics before my class so I had to start at square one with them, which was new for me but also good because I got to see some of the misconceptions develop that usually happen before the students get to me. I brought my Marriage Lab (“Dropping Your Genes”) here and decided to put it into play with the Bolivar kids. My students back in Manitowoc always seemed to have fun with it, and I usually do too.
(For those of you out of this loop, I set the room up like a chapel with a center aisle and a podium and some gaudy weddingish decorations. They kids come in not knowing this is happening then I call them up two by two to meet their “mate.” Prior to this they have researched and interviewed family members about certain traits on their paternal and maternal sides as well as inventoried their own so they are aware of their own genotypes. After the cheesed up ceremony they go off with their “spouse” to make some babies by cutting out chromosomes, folding them in half so that only one allele is showing on each side, and then literally dropping them and pairing like traits up to determine the childrens’ traits. While they are working I set up a “reception” with cake and ice cream.)
Anyways, I was concerned that given the social nature of Colombians, and some of my classes’ track records, it would be more work than fun. Fortunately, they rose to the occasion and we all had a lot of fun with it. Some classes even “helped” with the pairings of kids in the later classes…just like in Manitowoc. More proof that 9th graders are 9th graders wherever you go: horned up and awkward.
Quote of the day came from a student who apparently had a very strong impact on the appearance of his progeny. He yells, “Meester! Look! I have very powerful semen!” This is my life.
Side note, a car just cruised by below blasting “What Is Love?” from that obnoxious SNL skit. I wonder if it was in Spanish…
Not really sure what else to update everyone on! Lists are fun so here is my own personal right-now-favorite-things list:
-I was recently introduced to an Australian singer named Missy Higgins (thanks, Sarah Lou) and am quickly becoming obsessed. Current favorites are “Sugarcane,” “100 Round The Bend,” “The Special Two,” and “Don’t Ever”…to name a few.
-Currently reading A Mighty Heart by Mariane Pearl about the 2001 kidnapping of her husband Daniel Pearl, the Wall Street Journal reporter, in Pakistan. Beautifully written and my “bus book” which makes me unhealthily excited to ride the bus each day.
-My hammock.
-Watching the newborn chicks of these two ugly squawking birds on my running path each day. Unfortunately they too will be ugly and squawking too. Perhaps why mom and dad are so crabby.
-The fact that I can still watch American Idol here…although it is a few days later and on my computer. It’s not like I voted anyways…not since Christina Christian unceremoniously broke my heart in Season 1.
-Fresh fruit.
-My porteros (doormen). They are probably about my age but they always ask me questions and humor me when I try and answer. They're good guys and they keep the bad people out.
-Starting my mornings at my computer eating a banana and avena reading “nothing” emails from friends telling me there was a snow day, almost vomiting on the NYC subway, or the “trials” of working from home.
-Running through the small sidewalk flower market on the weekends, briefly saving my nose from being assailed by the exhaust of the Pasoancho Avenue.
-The TV shows “Corner Gas” and “Pushing Daisies.” (I believe they are both Canadian but the later may be on cable?)
-Why not…you can never have too much music: the songs “Death By Chocolate” and “Academia” by Sia
Okay - enough self-reflecting for now. As you can see, life is good! This weekend is the school-wide Bolivar Day Festival and then in two weeks Semana Santa (a.k.a. Spring Break!). An adventure is in the works…
Regardless, for those of you inquisitive enough or interested in bit of vicarious living, I will give you a little day to day update:
Right now I’m reclined in my hammock five floors up from street level with my computer n my lap. (My keyboarding teacher from elementary school would not approve.) It is only about 8pm right now but it has been dark for about two hours already. Such is life so close to the equator; 12 hours of daylight and 12 hours of starry skies become the norm. It is actually surprisingly quiet tonight. A motorbike just tore down the street but other than that I can hear a baby crying somewhere semi-close and the lights of the barrios on the mountainside are twinkling away. It is hazy at the top of the mountains so I can’t make out the tops but I can see some stars directly overhead. Perhaps it is some more rain clouds rolling in; this is a theme recently as the region’s second rainy season allegedly began about a week ago. From what I’ve seen thus far, this season is living up to it’s name much more than the previous one in November/December. Seriously though, two?!? C’mon.
I spend many of my evenings and weekends reclined in this manner here on my balcony, reading, napping, writing, grading papers, daydreaming, thinking about going for a run, napping again. It’s a good place to be.
Most weekends I enjoy some time to sleep in. When the teacher bus comes at barely daybreak each morning, sometimes 7am is sleeping in, but I usually abuse the term and roll out around 10am. I then convince my lazy ass to do something so I put on my Speedo and some running shorts, shirt, wrap my goggles around my wrist, stuff a swim cap and granola bar down my shorts somewhere (don’t judge) and head off for a three mile run to school. I usually attempt a breathless conversation with the guard at the gate. I, thankfully, no longer have to introduce myself as a teacher anymore, although I’m sure they have other names for me. I like to think of them calling me “that little pink boy on a suicide mission” but they just say “Hola, Profi.” I’ll swim for a ½ hour or 1500-2000m and then run back. I take my time and enjoy the pain so it tends to be a two-hour round trip. (The granola bar gets eaten pre-swim, in case you were wondering.)
This could happen both Saturday and Sunday or just one of the two. Occasionally I just run and skip the swim; God knows I’ve logged enough miles in the water for a lifetime. Another teacher friend who I run with most days after school, Sarah, has joined a running club that begins and ends their runs in a park near my house. She has tried to convince me to join them on several weekend runs but I just can’t seem to do it. It’s not for not trying either; I’ve set my alarm to meet them at 6am at least three different times. After years of forcing myself out of my warm bed to hurl my unwilling body into icy pools for morning swim practices, I just can’t bring myself to do it! Especially not when it is purely recreational…and I know I’ll go later.
Recently, I have begun a new Sunday tradition that I like to consider “Me Time”. After a possible late morning workout, I walk to the nearby mall, head to the movie theatre, buy a ticket for a show most of you would probably remember seeing on a marquee months ago for later in the day, head to the book store that sells overpriced American magazines, then make for the food court for some Chinese and a “good” read. Finally, when the time is right, I go back to the movie to laugh alone in the darkness because something didn’t translate, or at least laugh early. Then some quick grocery shopping for the next school week; I can’t forget the mangos and avena (oat-milk drink)! It makes for a nice Sunday afternoon.
School has been going well. My 9th grade biology classes are well into our genetics unit. Surprisingly, I think, they have not had any genetics before my class so I had to start at square one with them, which was new for me but also good because I got to see some of the misconceptions develop that usually happen before the students get to me. I brought my Marriage Lab (“Dropping Your Genes”) here and decided to put it into play with the Bolivar kids. My students back in Manitowoc always seemed to have fun with it, and I usually do too.
(For those of you out of this loop, I set the room up like a chapel with a center aisle and a podium and some gaudy weddingish decorations. They kids come in not knowing this is happening then I call them up two by two to meet their “mate.” Prior to this they have researched and interviewed family members about certain traits on their paternal and maternal sides as well as inventoried their own so they are aware of their own genotypes. After the cheesed up ceremony they go off with their “spouse” to make some babies by cutting out chromosomes, folding them in half so that only one allele is showing on each side, and then literally dropping them and pairing like traits up to determine the childrens’ traits. While they are working I set up a “reception” with cake and ice cream.)
Anyways, I was concerned that given the social nature of Colombians, and some of my classes’ track records, it would be more work than fun. Fortunately, they rose to the occasion and we all had a lot of fun with it. Some classes even “helped” with the pairings of kids in the later classes…just like in Manitowoc. More proof that 9th graders are 9th graders wherever you go: horned up and awkward.
Quote of the day came from a student who apparently had a very strong impact on the appearance of his progeny. He yells, “Meester! Look! I have very powerful semen!” This is my life.
Side note, a car just cruised by below blasting “What Is Love?” from that obnoxious SNL skit. I wonder if it was in Spanish…
Not really sure what else to update everyone on! Lists are fun so here is my own personal right-now-favorite-things list:
-I was recently introduced to an Australian singer named Missy Higgins (thanks, Sarah Lou) and am quickly becoming obsessed. Current favorites are “Sugarcane,” “100 Round The Bend,” “The Special Two,” and “Don’t Ever”…to name a few.
-Currently reading A Mighty Heart by Mariane Pearl about the 2001 kidnapping of her husband Daniel Pearl, the Wall Street Journal reporter, in Pakistan. Beautifully written and my “bus book” which makes me unhealthily excited to ride the bus each day.
-My hammock.
-Watching the newborn chicks of these two ugly squawking birds on my running path each day. Unfortunately they too will be ugly and squawking too. Perhaps why mom and dad are so crabby.
-The fact that I can still watch American Idol here…although it is a few days later and on my computer. It’s not like I voted anyways…not since Christina Christian unceremoniously broke my heart in Season 1.
-Fresh fruit.
-My porteros (doormen). They are probably about my age but they always ask me questions and humor me when I try and answer. They're good guys and they keep the bad people out.
-Starting my mornings at my computer eating a banana and avena reading “nothing” emails from friends telling me there was a snow day, almost vomiting on the NYC subway, or the “trials” of working from home.
-Running through the small sidewalk flower market on the weekends, briefly saving my nose from being assailed by the exhaust of the Pasoancho Avenue.
-The TV shows “Corner Gas” and “Pushing Daisies.” (I believe they are both Canadian but the later may be on cable?)
-Why not…you can never have too much music: the songs “Death By Chocolate” and “Academia” by Sia
Okay - enough self-reflecting for now. As you can see, life is good! This weekend is the school-wide Bolivar Day Festival and then in two weeks Semana Santa (a.k.a. Spring Break!). An adventure is in the works…
Monday, February 4, 2008
Marcha de la Paz
Today is an important day for Colombians. Today is the day that the people of this country have decided to stand as one and march for peace. Today is the day this nation hopes to bring international attention to the injustices put against its people by certain para-military groups. Today is the day they stand as one.
As I'm sure many of you have heard, even in the often Ameri-centric news media, several kidnapped victims have been released by Colombian rebels and leftist activists. Many more, however, remain captive and many people here are still paying off ransoms for their freedoms and to prevent further kidnappings.
The main, but not only, group that is being targeted with these injustices is the FARC (translated, it stands for the "Revolutionary Armed Forces of Colombia"). This is not your typical guerilla group, however. They do not generally commit random acts of violence; everything they do is planned and with a purpose. Those who are kidnapped usually have money and/or are in positions of power. Many of the families of the students at my school fall into this category. Several have been or have family members who have been kidnapped in the past and held until a hefty ransom was paid. (Do not worry about me - the FARC know I am not someone they could extort money for.)
This is the reason for today. Today, Colombians from all over the country and allegedly other nations as well, are holding Peace Marches against organizations like the FARC. Thousands of people are expected to take to the streets today in Cali and other cities across Colombia in a non-violent march for peace.
Apparently Colombia is not typically one of those nations that protests regularly so this is seen as a big deal. School is very much a ghost town today. The primary sections are in full swing but the numbers dwindle significantly as you reach the higher grades. There are only 16 9th graders here today out of about 75. The entire high school only has 30 students present.
Walking around this weekend I saw many of the traffic light vendors selling Marcha de la Paz t-shirts and those flags you stick out your car window instead of their usual fare of pirated DVD's, cell phone chargers, and mango slices. All of Cali, rich and poor, seemed to be gearing up for this one event. It is going on as I type this and I pray it goes well and everyone remembers this is a march for peace.
It will be interesting to see what happens. As the banners and t-shirts declare:
NO MAS!
NO MAS SECUESTROS!
NO MAS MENTIRAS!
NO MAS MUERTES!
NO MAS FARC!
NO MORE!
NO MORE KIDNAPPING!
NO MORE LIES!
NO MORE MURDER!
NO MORE FARC!
As I'm sure many of you have heard, even in the often Ameri-centric news media, several kidnapped victims have been released by Colombian rebels and leftist activists. Many more, however, remain captive and many people here are still paying off ransoms for their freedoms and to prevent further kidnappings.
The main, but not only, group that is being targeted with these injustices is the FARC (translated, it stands for the "Revolutionary Armed Forces of Colombia"). This is not your typical guerilla group, however. They do not generally commit random acts of violence; everything they do is planned and with a purpose. Those who are kidnapped usually have money and/or are in positions of power. Many of the families of the students at my school fall into this category. Several have been or have family members who have been kidnapped in the past and held until a hefty ransom was paid. (Do not worry about me - the FARC know I am not someone they could extort money for.)
This is the reason for today. Today, Colombians from all over the country and allegedly other nations as well, are holding Peace Marches against organizations like the FARC. Thousands of people are expected to take to the streets today in Cali and other cities across Colombia in a non-violent march for peace.
Apparently Colombia is not typically one of those nations that protests regularly so this is seen as a big deal. School is very much a ghost town today. The primary sections are in full swing but the numbers dwindle significantly as you reach the higher grades. There are only 16 9th graders here today out of about 75. The entire high school only has 30 students present.
Walking around this weekend I saw many of the traffic light vendors selling Marcha de la Paz t-shirts and those flags you stick out your car window instead of their usual fare of pirated DVD's, cell phone chargers, and mango slices. All of Cali, rich and poor, seemed to be gearing up for this one event. It is going on as I type this and I pray it goes well and everyone remembers this is a march for peace.
It will be interesting to see what happens. As the banners and t-shirts declare:
NO MAS!
NO MAS SECUESTROS!
NO MAS MENTIRAS!
NO MAS MUERTES!
NO MAS FARC!
NO MORE!
NO MORE KIDNAPPING!
NO MORE LIES!
NO MORE MURDER!
NO MORE FARC!
Monday, January 21, 2008
Rhythm Of The Night
On Saturday, in honor of nothing in particular, my roommate and I hosted a party at our apartment. We invited people from school and just let word of mouth do the work for us.
At about 8:30 pm our first guests began arriving and by 10 pm there were a whole lot of gringos and two Colombians (who came with gringos) and no one else. Finally at 11:30 pm the party started. This was mostly due to the arrival of the ones who clearly know how to party, the Colombians. The salsa got cranked up and suddenly we had a real party.
I spent most of the night out on the balcony, allowing people to circulate to me. Sometimes that is more fun than making ones way through a party. I figured my roommate had that covered. The great part was that while I was sitting there, enjoying the night air and watching the salsa get hot inside, I got to practice my Spanish (and occasional Spanglish) with some new Colombian friends. It was nice to be told that I was speaking really well for only having been here six months. A lot of them knew some English too so between our limited language skills we were able to talk about a surprising amount of topics.
I also, again, got sucked in to the inevitable downfall of any conversation with a Colombain at a party in Colombia – aguardiente. This aperitif might as well be known as the “friendship shot” since it is very customary to be offered one after a conversation of any length; the longer the conversation, however, the more shots. This drink, which smells like licorice and has an after taste like acidic candy, is cheap and traditional here, at a around $2 to $4 a bottle.
Despite, increasing my likelihood of a guaranteed hang-over the next day, I felt fine. I slept most of the morning and afternoon, as the party roared on until about 4:30 am. Once again, the Colombians showed us how a fiesta should go down!
At about 8:30 pm our first guests began arriving and by 10 pm there were a whole lot of gringos and two Colombians (who came with gringos) and no one else. Finally at 11:30 pm the party started. This was mostly due to the arrival of the ones who clearly know how to party, the Colombians. The salsa got cranked up and suddenly we had a real party.
I spent most of the night out on the balcony, allowing people to circulate to me. Sometimes that is more fun than making ones way through a party. I figured my roommate had that covered. The great part was that while I was sitting there, enjoying the night air and watching the salsa get hot inside, I got to practice my Spanish (and occasional Spanglish) with some new Colombian friends. It was nice to be told that I was speaking really well for only having been here six months. A lot of them knew some English too so between our limited language skills we were able to talk about a surprising amount of topics.
I also, again, got sucked in to the inevitable downfall of any conversation with a Colombain at a party in Colombia – aguardiente. This aperitif might as well be known as the “friendship shot” since it is very customary to be offered one after a conversation of any length; the longer the conversation, however, the more shots. This drink, which smells like licorice and has an after taste like acidic candy, is cheap and traditional here, at a around $2 to $4 a bottle.
Despite, increasing my likelihood of a guaranteed hang-over the next day, I felt fine. I slept most of the morning and afternoon, as the party roared on until about 4:30 am. Once again, the Colombians showed us how a fiesta should go down!
Monday, January 14, 2008
And On Your Left...
Greetings and Happy New Year...or I should say Feliz Año Nuevo!
After a great vacation filled with travel, family, and relaxation, I had three days of school (in which many kids were absent - really, is three weeks off enough?) and then another great weekend with VISITORS!!! My first official house guests were my brother, Rolland, and his girlfriend, Jamie.
They arrived early Friday morning and, after a slight transportation mix-up at the airport where my hired driver apparently had trouble picking out two gringos getting off a plane from Bogotá, they arrived safe and sound at school. The cafeteria was serving a very Colombian soup that day called sancocho so we were off to a great start to a crash-course in Colombian everything.
They sat through my last class of the day and the kids were very excited to have them there. During work time, several students came to introduce themselves...I suppose practicing mitosis can wait until next time. Even after class when the school was letting out and I was preparing to give a tour of the campus, several students sheepishly came up and asked to be introduced. As much as these kids talk in class, they are very polite and I do love them.
We caught a taxi home, sparing Rolland and Jamie the thrill of the "teacher bus." We had a couple beverages and enjoyed the sunset from both my balcony and the tienda on the corner. It was so great to be able to sit back, relax, and enjoy a conversation with someone I've known for a long time (yes, almost my whole waking life) and meet someone new. They were a little travel-laged having flown all through the night, so I graciously let them take a nap before dinner. After a brief reprieve we went to a trendy part of Cali with a lot of restaurants and had a great dinner. Jamie felt as though she were back in Spain versus Latin America based on the atmosphere and I attempted to show her some of the differences in the Spanish spoken here. Rolland also ordered all by himself - I guess "North Juarez" (aka El Paso, TX) is rubbing off a little! We made sure to congratulate him.
Saturday morning we had a nice slow start, slept in, and then walked to breakfast at a place about a mile from my apartment called, ironically, just Crepes & Waffles. It was more of a dessert breakfast than breakfast breakfast, but none of us complained. Incidentally, the restaurant is owned by a woman who only hires single mothers to work there. An all-woman workforce is very uncommon in Colombia. But I digress... We then headed to school to meet another teacher, Matt (who I traveled to the Pacific region with over Thanksgiving), who took us up to the Rio Pance outside of town and we enjoyed a fantastic afternoon sitting in the cold clear mountain spring water amongst the rocks, waterfalls, and butterflies. After a few hours we headed back into town and grabbed an early dinner with Matt at a restaurant that serves more meat than...well, its a lot. (My analogies are failing me right now...or are completely inappropriate.)
We then headed home to prep for a night out at the salsatecha. This meant a nap. After picking up my friend Tina (I needed a dancing partner too!) we arrived at a famous and popular salsatecha called Tin Tin Deo. We got there early enough to be guaranteed a table, and, after ordering our bottle of Bacardi, we began the process of teaching Rolland how to dance. It was slow going but he was doing pretty well by the end of the night although Jamie began to think the Bacardi was helping so she continued to pour. Rolland even won a CD with salsa music by local artists. The best souvenirs are free, right?! Later that night I made the Colombian equivalent to late night pizza - frozen empanadas - and we crashed.
The final and last day began with a mid-morning hike up one of the mountains that borders Cali to the west that is topped with three giant crosses. Another teacher friend, Lisa, joined us and we made it up and down in roughly two hours. The view of the smog-covered city was as beautiful as a dead rose but when you come from the flat mid-west, anything from high up is impressive.
We then headed home, had some breakfast, showered, and headed to the mall to do what Americans do best: be consumers. Jamie got her nails done and was really impressed with the tiny flowers painted across her big toes. I believe the quote later that night was, "Let's all just stop and look at my feet!" After spotting some Colombian "plastic," including the ever-elusive butt implant, we headed to get some dinner at a restaurant owned by the family of one of my students. On the way there we ran into another student (who ran out of a restaurant just to say hello, incidentally) and Rolland and Jamie got to witness the always awkward "kiss-hello with your student" scenario.
Dinner was delicious and I decided I really do need to go there more often. I invited a teaching couple from Wisconsin along, Sarah and Justin, to talk about Santa Marta and the surrounding area of the Colombian Caribbean coast, as that is where Rolland and Jamie were headed for the second leg of their Colombian adventure. (The 'Sconies had recently visited the area over Thanksgiving ergo...)
The last thing I remember about my dear brother's visit was stumbling down the stairs of my building to let the driver know they were coming in my sleepy 5am stupor. I even tried talking to him in Spanish and attempted to figure out what happened on Friday at the airport when they arrived. If I got a response, I don't recall. Too early to be functioning in another language.
Overall it was a fantastic visit and I am currently exhausted from playing tour guide all weekend but so glad I did. So, who's next...?
Friday, December 21, 2007
Break Part I: Time Machine
First off, I must say that I am thoroughly enjoying the flexibility that having three entire weeks off between semesters is allowing me to do.
This first week off of school I jumped on a plane and flew the (barely) hour hop to Bogotá and met up with two other teachers who were already there, Christine (hailing from Sheboygan, WI and fellow UWEC alum) and Luis Armando. We spent the night in Bogotá, which is quite a bit cooler than the Cali heat I've been accustomed to the past five months; I guess elevation will do that to you. It is also significantly cleaner and more cosmopolitan than Cali as well. Kind of like if Chicago was in the mountains. I will definitely be planning a trip back to just explore Bogotá.
The next morning we took a bus to small town about an hour north of the capitol called Zipaquira. After a quick Colombian lunch of soup, beef, potato, and rice we continued walking through town until we reached the other side. Our main intention of stopping here was to visit the famous "Salt Cathedral." This subterranean attraction is exactly what you would think it is - a gigantic cathedral carved out of salt. This area of Colombia was once an ocean and therefore has a high salt content in the ground. Mining the salt has been a lucrative but dangerous business. In the early days of the mine, the workers would bring a statue of the Virgin Mary down in the tunnels with them to pray to. Eventually someone suggested that they carve out a cathedral where they have already mined so that they have an actual place to worship. And in the early 1950's that is what they did. In the tunnels of this working mine is an enormous cathedral about 200 meters into the side of a mountain. Along the way to the actual cathedral room, we passed 14 smaller chapels, each representing one of the Stations of the Cross. While walking through the tunnels, which smelled strongly of sulfur, we would pass prayer benches that looked like they were made of marble. Who knew that when salt hardens in creates a stone-like material that is like a transparent marble. The guide showed us how light can pass through it and that the pulpit and baptismal fountain are all made of this hardened material. (Side note: They have to use salt water in the baptismal because pure water will "eat away" the salt stone.)
After breathing in some fresh mountain air, we navigated our way by two different buses and a cab ride to the beautiful little town of Villa de Leyva, roughly three hours further north. This area of Colombia is still cool, but also surprisingly drier than the rest of the country. There was no need to pack shorts for this trip!
We spent the next three days exploring the little village and the surrounding area. One of the big attractions of the town is the huge center plaza. It is supposedly the biggest in all of Colombia and could probably rival many a city center throughout certain European and colonial American cities as well. It was almost as if time found a way to skip over this tiny pueblo each and every year as the rest of the world moved on. It was not difficult to picture yourself back in the early 1600's.
The food was amazing, as were the little craft shops all along the cobble-stoned streets of the town. One of the favorite flavors of the region is a soup called ajiaco (say: ah-hee-ya-koe) which consists of chicken, corn, and potato stew flavored with a herb called guasca, and avocado. There was also a type of fruit that Christine nor I had ever come across, called feijoa. Luis Armando explained that is very expensive to ship to other areas and because Cali has so many other fruits the demand to bring in others, such as feijoa, is not there, so neither is it.
There is so much to do in and around Villa de Leyva that it is nearly impossible to get it all done in one trip and relax at the same time. And really, if you're not relaxed in Villa de Leyva, you're doing something wrong! The last whole day we were in the place that time forgot we rented horses and a guide and took a tour of some of the local attractions on the outskirts of town. The first place we stopped at was a collection of small ponds that had a brilliant gem-like blue color in the very desert-like area of the valley. Being from the water-filled Midwest, this site wasn't terribly exciting to either Christine or me so, after a couple of quick pictures, we remounted our horses and left the Pozos Azules behind us.
Next stop was an ostrich farm! Now, just to be clear, ostriches (or "avestruzes") are NOT endemic to Colombia or anywhere else in South America. Just to be clear. Anyways, we walked through the farm and learned a lot of interesting facts about these huge birds. Did you know that males can live to be 70 years old but only reproduce between the ages of 3 and 26? I was secretly hoping I'd get to ride one a la Swiss Family Robinson but I had to settle for being pecked at and chased for the ostrich food in my pocket. However you picture that is probably how it looked. Feel free to laugh but just think about what you would do if an eight-foot tall BIRD were coming after you. Yeah. Think about it.
Moving on...the next stop was a small museum off the road built around a kronosaurus fossil in the ground. As I said before, this area used to be an ocean so everything in the museum that has been found in the area was marine in nature. There were a lot of shells, fish, and aquatic plant fossils. And let's not forget the gigantic alligator-like aforementioned museum centerpiece. After a good ten minutes (seriously, it wasn't that big) we were off again.
The final and most ridiculous stop on the horse-led tour of the country was a visit to an ancient Muisca Indian site. There are two reasons this area is important archeologically. The first is that it is like a smaller and simpler Stone Henge. There are two parallel rows of two to four foot tall pillars spaced about one meter apart from each other and nine meters apart from the other row. The position of the shadows apparently told the Muisca when certain growing periods were to occur and they based their festivals around this primitive clock. The other interesting aspect of this area is the abundance of giant stone penises standing, excuse the expression, perfectly erect out of the rocky mountain ground. When the Spanish settlers first began taking control of the area they were so appalled by these enormous phalluses that they knocked a few over and then decided to rename the area El Infiernito (or "The Little Hell") in an attempt to make this place suddenly evil and discourage the Muisca from going there. I can see why they gave up knocking them down when some of them are as big around as an old oak tree and up to two stories tall. Crazy stuff here in Colombia, I tell you...
Break Part II: The Mob & Me
After an enjoyable and relaxing week in Villa de Leyva, Christine, Luis Armando, and I left the little pueblo to head back to Cali. The plan was to catch a bus to Tunja and then another to Bogotá in time to get some lunch and head to airport in time for our 3:30 flight. Simple enough, yes? That's what we thought too.
The bus travel went well, with the minor exception of being randomly stopped and searched by the Colombian military, but I'd rather have to put my hands on the side of the bus and get patted down than have unsafe highways.
We got to the Bogotá airport at around 2pm and were immediately told that our plane had been overbooked...BUT we were being put on a later 5:30pm flight AND were getting some free bonos for future flights. In return we had to stand in line at the check in for a little over an hour. Finally having checked in, we made our way to the appropriate gate only to find that our original 3:30pm flight was at the neighboring gate and had not left yet at about 4:30pm. Eventually they took off and simultaneously our flight was delayed until 6:30pm. The first ting we noticed, other than the fact that no one seemed to really know anything was that somehow an entire planeload of people had been overbooked. I would love to know how that happened, especially when everyone we talked to was supposed to have been on the 3:30pm flight with us. Hmm...
Fast-forward another hour and we are told that our plane, which incidentally, has not shown up yet, is not going to be there until "maybe" 10pm. Or it could just be canceled altogether, they don't really know. At this point our fellow airline travelers began to get a little...peeved? Angry? Riotous? Let's just say about 60% of the flight basically stormed the gate desk all screaming at the same time. The military police stationed at the airport were summoned and were a solid presence from here on out, guns, batons, giant boots and all.
Luis Armando spent a lot of the next few hours with his fellow proactive Colombians questioning the airline workers about the location of our plane, why everyone at the airport was so ignorant, and when when when? Christine and I laid on the floor and watched the growing mob and equally growing number of armed military personnel. Various members of the mob began to emerge in our minds with names and predictable personality traits. There were several stereotypically power tied businessmen on the flight who were obviously used to being in control and getting what they want. They became our favorites to watch. There was also the man in the backwards Kanga hat and sports coat who looked like a Samuel L. Jackson wannabe, the "lady in white," and "chair guy" who seemed to feel that standing on various elevated places yelling random things to the crowd was helping things. "Chair guy" was mostly ignored although on several occasions he was successful in inciting the mob into chanting, "mentirosos" (liars) and "bonos." With each chant the mob caused at least one or two more military troops to show up. (There was also "good hair man" who didn't ever do anything except become our own minor celebrity solely based on his Patrick Dempsey-like locks.)
Eventually, around 11pm, an airline spokesman showed up to let us know that a plane was found to take us to Cali, unfortunately, the pilot had "timed out" and a new one needed to be found. How an airline shortchanges a plane and is out a pilot is beyond me but they haven't asked me to run the company yet so I'll stay out of it.
At about 12:15am we had a pane and a pilot and a crew. At this point the airline thought to themselves, "what else can we do to not get these people off the ground very quickly? I know! Let's board them by calling out their names one at a time! Brilliant!" So, one by one we were called by name and allowed to board the plane. After about 15 minutes Stephani Johnson got called to board. It was like getting the VIP treatment walking down the tunnel to the plane since no one else was in the tunnel with you. A few minutes later Christian Dussault joined me on the plane followed by our pal Luis Armando, who had no identity crisis. When several of the "Power Tie Crew" boarded they were greeted by an ovation of sorts. It doesn't take much to be a celebrity. We were also given more bonos, as if we were all dying to fly this airline again.
Wait! We can't take off that easily! As we were taxing down the runway an older man in the front half of the cabin suddenly passed out. This was most likely due to the fact that while sitting on the slowly filling plane there was very little circulating air. After returning to the terminal to drop this gentleman off, we finally were in the air at 1:45am - ten hours and fifteen minutes after we were supposed to take off.
I know others of you have probably spent many hours in an airport due to cancellations for various reasons; however, the introduction of near riots, the police, and complete ignorance raised this airport experience to a whole other level for me. Moral of the story: Don't fly AeroRepublica.
The bus travel went well, with the minor exception of being randomly stopped and searched by the Colombian military, but I'd rather have to put my hands on the side of the bus and get patted down than have unsafe highways.
We got to the Bogotá airport at around 2pm and were immediately told that our plane had been overbooked...BUT we were being put on a later 5:30pm flight AND were getting some free bonos for future flights. In return we had to stand in line at the check in for a little over an hour. Finally having checked in, we made our way to the appropriate gate only to find that our original 3:30pm flight was at the neighboring gate and had not left yet at about 4:30pm. Eventually they took off and simultaneously our flight was delayed until 6:30pm. The first ting we noticed, other than the fact that no one seemed to really know anything was that somehow an entire planeload of people had been overbooked. I would love to know how that happened, especially when everyone we talked to was supposed to have been on the 3:30pm flight with us. Hmm...
Fast-forward another hour and we are told that our plane, which incidentally, has not shown up yet, is not going to be there until "maybe" 10pm. Or it could just be canceled altogether, they don't really know. At this point our fellow airline travelers began to get a little...peeved? Angry? Riotous? Let's just say about 60% of the flight basically stormed the gate desk all screaming at the same time. The military police stationed at the airport were summoned and were a solid presence from here on out, guns, batons, giant boots and all.
Luis Armando spent a lot of the next few hours with his fellow proactive Colombians questioning the airline workers about the location of our plane, why everyone at the airport was so ignorant, and when when when? Christine and I laid on the floor and watched the growing mob and equally growing number of armed military personnel. Various members of the mob began to emerge in our minds with names and predictable personality traits. There were several stereotypically power tied businessmen on the flight who were obviously used to being in control and getting what they want. They became our favorites to watch. There was also the man in the backwards Kanga hat and sports coat who looked like a Samuel L. Jackson wannabe, the "lady in white," and "chair guy" who seemed to feel that standing on various elevated places yelling random things to the crowd was helping things. "Chair guy" was mostly ignored although on several occasions he was successful in inciting the mob into chanting, "mentirosos" (liars) and "bonos." With each chant the mob caused at least one or two more military troops to show up. (There was also "good hair man" who didn't ever do anything except become our own minor celebrity solely based on his Patrick Dempsey-like locks.)
Eventually, around 11pm, an airline spokesman showed up to let us know that a plane was found to take us to Cali, unfortunately, the pilot had "timed out" and a new one needed to be found. How an airline shortchanges a plane and is out a pilot is beyond me but they haven't asked me to run the company yet so I'll stay out of it.
At about 12:15am we had a pane and a pilot and a crew. At this point the airline thought to themselves, "what else can we do to not get these people off the ground very quickly? I know! Let's board them by calling out their names one at a time! Brilliant!" So, one by one we were called by name and allowed to board the plane. After about 15 minutes Stephani Johnson got called to board. It was like getting the VIP treatment walking down the tunnel to the plane since no one else was in the tunnel with you. A few minutes later Christian Dussault joined me on the plane followed by our pal Luis Armando, who had no identity crisis. When several of the "Power Tie Crew" boarded they were greeted by an ovation of sorts. It doesn't take much to be a celebrity. We were also given more bonos, as if we were all dying to fly this airline again.
Wait! We can't take off that easily! As we were taxing down the runway an older man in the front half of the cabin suddenly passed out. This was most likely due to the fact that while sitting on the slowly filling plane there was very little circulating air. After returning to the terminal to drop this gentleman off, we finally were in the air at 1:45am - ten hours and fifteen minutes after we were supposed to take off.
I know others of you have probably spent many hours in an airport due to cancellations for various reasons; however, the introduction of near riots, the police, and complete ignorance raised this airport experience to a whole other level for me. Moral of the story: Don't fly AeroRepublica.
Friday, November 30, 2007
Noche De Las Velitas
Tonight there was a celebration at school at dusk called "Noche de las Velitas" (Night of the Candles) where Colegio Bolivar families came, talked, listened to live music, and lit candles. If there is a religious or traditional purpose/history, beyond "this is just what we do," I was not able to ascertain one from any of the students I asked.
So, in the end, you purchase a bag of about 15 candles and light them one at a time, melting the wax and sticking them to a board laid out on the ground. There were basically hundreds of 2x4's laid end to end and about 5 feet apart all over the playing fields on campus. When all the boards were lit, it was quite a sight.
I've included some pictures above (which I'm sure you can see). Enjoy!
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