Gone South: Hilary's Reflections of COLOMBI*A

To Conclude...

2009-02-10T23:15:00.000-08:00

As I sit here in the comfort of my family's home in Boise, Idaho, it is clear that my year as a Rotary Ambassadorial Scholar in Colombia is over, and I know that it's time to bring this blog to a close. I have tried to come to some sort of "conclusion" about my experience to include here... But I think it will take a great deal of time to really make profound assessments about how Colombia has changed me or how it will continue to affect me for years to come, and any efforts that I've made to write the last chapter of my blog have resulted in a sappy mess.

Therefore, I'd like to end with a song (no, I'm definitely not going to sing!). It's a song by a Colombian singer named Jorge Celedón, who is from the province of La Guajira. It's a style of music called "vallenato," which means "born in the valley" and comes from Colombia's Caribbean region. This song is the type that everyone sings along with when you're out in a club, and you're certain to hear it at any gathering anywhere in Colombia.

But, more importantly, I think it represents a lot about the philosophy Colombians employ and a lesson that has become very apparent to me during my stay in their country. The chorus is: "Ay, que bonita es esta vida, aunque a veces duela tanto...," which means, "Ah, how beautiful is this life, even though sometimes it hurts so much..." Please take a look by clicking here.

Gracias, Colombia, for teaching me a lot about this beautiful life and thank you, Rotary Foundation and District 5030, for providing me with such an opportunity.

Saying good-bye

2009-01-12T17:22:00.000-08:00

It is always difficult to close a chapter of your life-- knowing that the experiences, friends, and surroundings that you've known for a certain period of time may never enter into your reality again. While I was, of course, very excited for my homecoming to my family and friends in the USA, I also dreaded saying good-bye to Colombia and the people who'd been a part of my experience there for a whole year. However, in my typical style, I had crammed too much into my last couple weeks in the country, leaving me too little time and energy to get very sentimental about my upcoming departure.

First of all, like I've done at least once a year for the past several years, I had to clean and move out of my apartment.

This is a pile of papers I'd written and texts I'd read during the course of my studies. I had a whole closet filled with such documents, and one of the most time-consuming tasks of packing/moving was sorting through them-- deciding what to toss and what to keep. While it was a tedious process, it really forced me to reflect on all that I'd learned and done in my year, making me feel pleased with my accomplishments.

I also had many "lasts," like...

... the last time that I rode with Paola (pictured here... if you look really closely in the darkness, you can see her) on her beloved motorcycle.

Then, there were the scheduled opportunities for me to say good-bye to those who had been a part of my Colombian existence. Erica had brought the famous Idaho potato pins (Idaho pride!) that I distributed attached to business cards with my USA contact information to all of my acquaintances. They were a big hit!

First of all, I said my formal "farewell" to my host Rotary Club.

I had not prepared an official speech, but I did talk from the heart a lot about how I had benefited from my year in the country and appreciated their support. I also apparently used some pretty exaggerated hand gestures. ;)

I requested that we get one last group photo-- which seemed to be a trend as I was on the "adios" circuit.

In addition, I said good-bye to my friends.

This is (from left to right) María Isabel, me, Addie, Karen (blue shirt), Julio, Paola (laughing), Luz Elena, Lina, and Rosario.

I had to include a picture of me with Rosario, my friend from Valencia, Spain, who was a constant confidant, group project team member, and friend for me throughout the year. It was also a good way to pick up Spain's Spanish slang. ;)

Next, it was off to Carlos' household to say bid adieu to his family and thank them for their hospitality.

Carlos' home had become a sort of refuge for me, a way to escape from the chaos of the city. Here Erica and I are with his sister (Alejandra), father (Carlos Sr.), mother (Licelore), Carlos, his grandmother (Fidelia), and his great-aunt (Rosa) at our little going away celebration. His grandmother even cried a little, saying she would miss me too much.

Finally, it was time to say good-bye to my girls in the María Goretti Home. The director had arranged for a little "fiesta de despedida," although I have to admit that I was a little hurt that not one of the adult employees of the home (herself included) chose to attend or thank me for my constant dedication and work within the facility. But, of course, I really didn't need a thank-you for my services because they were inherently rewarding, and I was really there just for the girls, whom I had grown to know and love.

The event started off with my older class started singing, ¨Head and Shoulders, Knees and Toes"-- one of their favorite activities of my course. In fact, I think it is probably the only English they will remember from all of my teachings. They also performed a special song for me, and I wish I could remember what it was. It was a Latino pop song that I'm sure I could find on YouTube if I looked hard enough, and it talked about how they'd never forget me, a piece of me would always be in their hearts, etc. I even shed a tear or two.

They presented me with cards and signs like these ones.

This one says: "We want to thank you for your valuable instruction. We wish you courage and energy in your trip, so that you can be with all of your loved ones. We wish you a merry Christmas and a prosperous new year. May God bestow you with many blessings and much happiness. Just remember that we love you a lot, and we are not going to forget you because you've left a beautiful way of being in each of our hearts."

I presented each girl with a framed photo of herself (or... if I had searched through my thousands of photos of the girls and had not found an individual picture of her, I had selected a group shot).

And then the photo frenzy began!

I felt like a celebrity as I was begged to take pictures with my students over and over again. I started a trend with this photo with Tatiana, which left lots of little and not-so-little girls asking to be lifted for our pose. Such a work-out!

Whew, I was soon really sweating from the exertion of being photographed so much in the heat, and my smile hurt... but it all in good fun.

However, some of the magic of the occasion was lost and picture-taking was interrupted as conflicts broke out, and I was forced to mediate. This image captures the very moment when crying and yelling began after three gals started fighting, with hitting and kicking involved (not featured-- I'm just looking off to figure out what's going on). Another problem occurred when I tried to get girls to come in groups to get a picture of several of them together, but this seemed to upset them. Some said, "I want a picture with Miss Hilary by myself" and pushed the other girls out of the picture. This also led to more crying.

Erica could not escape from the paparazzi-like mentality of my students and soon found herself getting pulled in front of my camera. Once again, just like it had with the monkeys in the Amazon, her eyebrow piercing caused quite the reaction. She didn't need me to translate what they were saying as they pointed to the piercing, made expressive faces that included sticking out their tongues and gagging noises, and shuddered like they'd just seen something very disturbing. I guess they weren't fans.

And many of my young friends took advantage of their last moments together with my camera to apparently practice their super model skills.

The event ended as my sister and I rushed off to another engagement, but it was a little unsettling because my last hugs and cheek kisses (greetings and good-byes are always expressed with a cheek kiss in Colombian culture) included almost all of them saying, "Don't forget me." Many of them also said things like, "You promised that you'd take me with you" or "Please come back and bring me to the USA to adopt me." My basic response (as it had always been) was, "You know I would if I could."

And, with that, I was ready to leave Cali, Colombia behind...

Is peace possible?

2009-01-12T17:04:00.000-08:00

Photos like this can be fun, but they also tell a lot about Colombia's reality.

Once upon a time, during one of our class lectures, a professor matter of factly stated that Colombia has a "culture of violence." This produced quite the reaction from some of my classmates, who instantly interrupted her talk and became quite defensive.

"How can you say that? We do not have a culture of violence," they said, "It is true that violence is very prevalent in our country, but this does not mean we are all violent people." One peer added, "I don't just get up in the morning and hit my wife or throw things at my children; I know how to have loving and peaceful relationships."

The professor stood strong. She cited statistics of Colombia's rates of domestic violence, child abuse, road rage, kidnapping, murder, armed robbery, internal displacement, bombings, land mines, gangs, paramilitaries, guerrillas, etc. She returned to her PowerPoint slides about how Colombia's lack of identity had created a void that was filled with "illegality," and she talked about the "logic of survival" in such a "fragmented" society. She reminded us of the basic definition of violence that had been a constant tool of analysis for the entire semester: Johan Galtung's triangle that divided violence into its three forms: direct, cultural, and structural. She then alluded to Colombia's problems with cultural and structural violence, such as the massive gap between the rich and the poor and pervading machismo, racism, stereotypes, and hierarchies. She concluded by stating, "I am just as Colombian as you are, and I know that it's hard to hear. But this is a term used by researchers and scholars alike to describe Colombia. That's just the way it is."

My peers did not buy it. They began quoting anthropological definitions of "culture," referring to massive peace mobilizations within the country, and reciting examples of peaceful behavior of fellow Colombians. They refused to let our poor professor (who was caught off guard) to continue to the next topic; they wanted to resolve this controversy right then and there.

I simply sat back and watched the heated debate unfold. As a foreigner, I felt that any comment I made about Colombia could be taken as an ethnocentric critique, but I did have my own opinions...

I began thinking of the bloody, graphic images that often appear on the news reports and the horrific photographs of 7 men who'd been tortured to death in Cali (presumably related to the drug trade) that I'd seen on the newspapers being sold on my way to the bus stop that morning. I thought of the fight that had broken out between two bus passengers two days previously, simply because one of them refused to move to the back of the bus.

BUT THEN... I also could see the view of my classmates. Colombia has a culture of dancing, of singing, of laughter, of music, of art, of gossip, of families, of excitement. It has been cursed with a violent history and still finds itself in a terrible conflict; it has a long way to go to boast true "equality."... Yet, does this mean that it also has a "culture of violence?"

I resolved to forget these technicalities and labels and simply focus on the facts at hand.

FAST FORWARD SEVERAL MONTHS...............

It was the very last class of our graduate program. A celebratory feast including bottles of wine and appetizers was waiting for us outside of our classroom, and there was certainly a "last day of school" vibe in the air. Our last required activity was a discussion (supposedly a "debate," although I wouldn't call that an accurate description) on the topic of: Is it possible to create a culture of peace in Colombia?

The term "culture of peace" is very important because, after all, the program itself is called, "The Culture of Peace and International Humanitarian Law." Contrary to the impression that many people seem to have when I mention this name, peace in this context does not simply mean the absence of violence or conflict (technically, that would be "negative peace;" our coursework provided us with many definitions of the various classifications of "peace"). Rather, a "culture of peace" is much more comprehensive and refers to a way of life that "makes children and adults understand and respect freedom, justice, democracy, human rights, tolerance, equality, and solidarity." A culture of peace implies rejection of violence of all forms, in all settings.

Thus, it is a pretty lofty, idealistic goal that would be difficult to achieve in any country of the world, let alone Colombia. Yet, with the way my cohorts discussed it in our "debate," you'd think it were something just around the corner for their beloved tierra. It reminded me of those Miss America parodies that show contestants stating, "My goal is to end world hunger, create world peace, and give every child in the world a big hug" or something incredibly far fetched like that. And, all the while, the professor of the module sat smiling and nodding, like a proud kindergarten teacher whose students had just successfully sang the entire alphabet for the first time.

I'm not saying a culture of peace is not possible; I'm just saying that my fellow students forgot to answer one important question: how? With all of the analytical tools, facts about the Colombian crisis, peace construction theories, and problem-solving skills that we had learned throughout our 2 semesters of study, you'd think that they'd be able to make comments with a little more substance. Perhaps it was because everyone was eager for the wine and treats that were waiting for us in the hall, but they certainly didn't appear to apply our newly acquired knowledge to a very real and important question about the reality of their country. I have to admit I was annoyed with the lack of depth and critical thinking demonstrated in what was supposed to be the culmination of our entire graduate program.

Then, it was my turn. (A participation grade was to be awarded, and I couldn't allow a 0 to ruin my grade-point average). Once again, I didn't want to be the critical, ethnocentric foreigner, so I tried to make myself clear. I told them that I feel a true "culture of peace" would be incredibly challenging to obtain anywhere, and I talked about the ways in which I'd seen a true lack of such a culture time and time again in the daily life of Colombians (acknowledging that the same could be said of my experiences in the USA). I mentioned that I'd been incredibly touched by the hospitality and kindness of many of their countrymen, but (at the same time) I'd also been afraid because of the true hostility I'd experienced. I spoke about one potential solution: developing economic opportunities for all people, not just the wealthy elite. That way, people wouldn't need to resort to joining paramilitary, guerrilla, drug-trafficking groups or stealing to make ends meet; they wouldn't feel the need to cut in line or yell/fight with others for hand-outs; they wouldn't feel hopeless about their lack of futures and resort to a life of crime and violence. This, however, would not not be enough to create a true "culture of peace" and would require strategic and complicated economic development plans that I am not qualified to create... I was given a 3.9/5.0 for my commentary.

FAST FORWARD TO THE PRESENT DAY....

As I have attempted to really grapple with whether or not Colombia can become a peaceful nation (I'm not going as far as the "culture of peace" concept), I'm really torn. On the one hand, many scholars acknowledge that Colombia has been ridden with conflict since the Spanish inquisition. And, unlike other countries in Latin America that have experienced horrific civil wars or genocides (like Guatemala, El Salvador, Chile, and Argentina), Colombia has the added factor of the drug industry, which will always refill the pocket books of insurgent groups and cause territorial battles. Furthermore, politicians have been linked to the paramilitary groups on multiple occasions, greatly affecting public policy that could create much needed changes.

I have been greatly impacted what I've learned about the violence during my year-long stay in the country. Human rights workers, members of labor unions, and politicians are often killed-- in addition to normal citizens. Not only have I worked with displaced peoples, but I've seen victims of land mines, heard two shootings in my neighborhood, and listened to some pretty devastating accounts. I will never forget the story of one of my classmates who is a psychologist and works on the National Commission for Justice, Truth, and Restitution-- who talked about the stories of child soldiers that she'd interviewed (at least 6,000 children, both boys and girls, participate as child soldiers. One in six has killed someone; almost all have seen torture; and eight of ten have seen dead bodies. Girls are often used sexually). Her tale involved young boys confiding in her how the rebel groups had a rule that those who deserted must be killed by their best friend, then he/she must perform awful rituals afterwards, like bathing in the blood, to "get rid of the fear of killing." Another horribly messed-up story was that of a classmate who works for the Public Defense Office, who once accompanied a group sent to identify the remains of an entire town that had been massacred. Their trip ended abruptly, as the guerrilla group began shooting at them, purposefully preventing them from identifying their victims.

Evidence of the conflict can be found in many places. Just two blocks from my university, there's a Catholic church where 100 people were kidnapped in mass by ELN guerrillas in 1999. I also regularly pass by a site where 12 politicians were kidnapped in 2002. They were the departmental (province) Assembly Building, and men entered their meeting, shouting that a bomb threat had been received for the building. They were to be evacuated to a bus that was waiting outside, and they all promptly obeyed all orders they were given. A few minutes into their bus ride, their "saviors" announced that they were actually with the FARC, and this was a kidnapping operation. Eleven of the twelve were killed.

And then I've also gotten really upset with the accounts of the human rights abuses committed by the Colombian National Army that is supposed to protect the country's citizens, like this: http://seattletimes.nwsource.com/html/nationworld/2004315540_farc30.html.

On the other hand, one cannot deny the true progress that has been made in recent years. Roads that were once deemed "too dangerous" to cross are now full of cars, and I have been able to do a lot of traveling that would not have been possible five years ago. Hostages are being released (as a side note, six FARC hostages were released last week as I'm updating this entry on February 10th... although a bombing in Cali on the same day was credited to the same group). People tell me that they feel much, much safer, and (although I have to be careful) I have never felt like I'm in a war zone.

Most importantly, Colombians want peace more than anything. They talk about peace efforts on a daily basis. They come together in mass demonstrations. They demand that their representatives create peace-building legislation. They dream of a Colombia free of conflict for their children and grandchildren. When there's so much hope, optimism and forward-thinking, I truly feel that failure is impossible. Colombia will not ever become a utopia, but improvement is inevitable.

Cheap Labor P.S. and P.P.S.

2009-01-12T16:31:00.000-08:00

After publishing my last reflection, I discovered that I had two additions that tie in thematically with my reflection of "cheap labor."

Addition 1: This one's more like an update. I am happy to report that, upon checking email yesterday, I discovered that I'd received a message from Mabel-- the cleaning lady of the Javeriana campus. It was certainly a shock to hear from her, as I had attempted to show her how to use email in the university's computer lab on more than one occasion (at her request), with pretty unsuccessful results. However, one of her daughters had sent a message on her behalf, which asked me to call her and referred to me as "mi querida amiguita." Thus, communication has not been lost! I was pretty touched that she'd tried so hard to contact me.

Addition 2: Another common informal job that I failed to previously mention is that of the recycler, who must perform the trash-sorting function that most individuals perform automatically in the U.S. I'm not exactly sure how payment or logistics of the position work, but I do know that all sorts of men, women, and children flock to trash bins with their wooden carts and go through all sorts of garbage to find plastic, glass, or aluminum items. They never wear gloves, and I cannot help but feel so bad for them as they dig about in all sorts of smelly messes. (Please don't forget that toilet paper cannot be flushed here, so all households' used TP ends up in their trash bins!). There are two mothers who work as recyclers in my neighborhood, and their collections of recycled goods are always topped with their sleeping babies... But, as I've said, a job is a job, and any income is better than nothing...

Cheap Labor

2009-01-12T16:28:00.000-08:00

I'd like you to meet Rubiela, otherwise known as ¨Rubi¨ :

Rubi is FABULOUS. We LOVE her. She is able to do things most people only dream of. She comes to our apartment every two weeks and works wonders. In a climate where cockroaches and ants will appear at the drop of a crumb, and in an apartment that fills with dust every time the door opens, her mad cleaning skills are much appreciated. She comes every other Tuesday at 8:00am and stays until 5:00pm, skillfully cleaning windows, washing sheets and couch cushions, scrubbing cabinets, mopping the floor, and beautifying pretty much anything else one could possibly clean in our small living quarters. We contracted her for 30,000 pesos (about $15.00USD) for each day she comes, plus food. I had a little bit of a complex of ¨hiring¨ someone, especially at such a low price, but Rubi was so excited about having this extra little source of income to support herself, her kids, and her grand kids that I realized it would be good for her. I also later discussed this little payment concern with some of my classmates, many of whom have their own non-live-in ¨empleadas,¨ and most of them felt I was paying her too much. Minimum wage in Colombia works out to be about $5.83USD per day (and, of course, there is no hour limit, and under-the-table work need not pay above minimum wage), and one classmate was very adamant that she was a ¨really good employer¨ for the woman (who does not live with them) who makes her meals, cleans her home, and takes care of her daughter daily from 6:00am until 9:00pm for only about $7.00USD/day.

Rubi's tale reminds me of many of the other women working in domestic service jobs that I've met here in Colombia. I am not sure why, but I've always had strong connections with the cleaning staff of the various places I've lived and been (beginning with Earl, my elementary school janitor), and I've carried this tinge of sympathy with me because I feel that they are hardly ever recognized for the work that they do. Furthermore, in wealthy households throughout the world, they often have limited freedoms and lack opportunities to embark down the road of "personal fulfillment." Here are some of the ones who've entered my life during my time here:

This is Gloria, who worked for my host family in Medellín. I found her to be very dignified. She was the only one in the household who actually talked to me, and it was her daughter who kindly showed me around the city. She often confided in me that she was going to leave the home because they paid her less than minimum wage, and I remember one particularly impacting experience when she cried because one of the boys of the family yelled at her extensively for "ruining" a pair of his flip flops by scrubbing it with an old tooth brush. As I prepared to leave Medellín and head onto Cali, we exchanged little gifts and contact information. While I never heard from her again (and I felt awkward about contacting her in the home where she lived/worked), I hope that she has moved on to a more respectful working environment.

This is Marta with her son, Marlon, who were the live-in staff of Liliana and Fernando's home when I arrived to Cali. I loved little Marlon and was constantly holding him and playing with him at any possible opportunity. I also attempted to buy him toys and things a baby should have. However, one day, without any previous warning, I came home from my classes to discover that Marta had been let-go because her "cooking wasn't up to standard." I was shocked and definitely missed my little buddy. Soon, though, Marta was back (although she had been replaced)-- asking for help with getting medicine and milk for Marlon. I noticed a gold necklace around her neck and, without thinking, commented: "Oh, I have a necklace like this that was my grandmother's." Liliana overhead this comment and quietly told me to look for my necklace within my things. Sure enough, it was gone.

I suppose it did seem odd for a housekeeper in Colombia to have the same gold necklace I had inherited after my American grandmother passed away in 1997, but this discretion never crossed my mind until I discovered it was missing. The whole situation left me feeling awful, and I felt guilty for ever having noticed that gold chain with an ivy Black Hills gold pendent around Marta's neck-- or having brought it to Colombia in the first place. Liliana did buy her milk for Marlon on that day, but I never saw either of them again.

Here's another employee who worked in Liliana and Fernando's household during my stay. She lasted a very short amount of time, so I unfortunately didn't get to know her very well.

The current "empleada" of Liliana and Fernando's home is named Carolina; however, since one of their daughters is also named Carolina, they immediately decided to call her "Anita." I have never heard her complain about anything, and she once told me that she hadn't done anything to celebrate her birthday for many years (I learned that she had recently turned 22). She has a five-year-old daughter who stays with extended family in a pueblo a few hours away from Cali-- whom she gets to see very rarely. I have only known her to take one extra day off (in addition to the Sunday she gets off weekly) in all of the months she's worked in the household, and that was only because her cousin had been shot and killed while in a discoteca. My favorite thing about Carolina, though, is that she calls me "Hilarees."

Finally, please meet Maribel-- part of the cleaning staff of the Pontificia Universidad Javeriana campus where I studied. I think I originally met her because I helped her straighten-up desks in a classroom, and I became one of her favorite people after I bought some little knick-knacks from her. From that point on, we had daily conversations, and she looked for me everyday on campus. I found out that she had eight children, and her husband had left them all after she became pregnant with the eighth one (who recently turned two). Always the sucker, I ended up buying many of the Christmas crafts her daughters had made to earn a little extra income-- and they actually came in very handy because I used them as Christmas gifts for the Rotarians of my host club. I never got to say good-bye to Maribel after my classes ended, which makes me very sad. =(

I think the life of a housekeeper/"empleada" seems very desirable to many Colombian women because it's safe and stable work-- even if may not be very rewarding or dignified. With such a gap between the rich and the poor and such a high rate of unemployment, Colombia seems to offer just about any sort of job, and there are many people who are eager to do it. My best example of this was when I was instructed to pay someone to wait in line for me for an official government document I needed after first arriving (why didn't I think of that?!). I gladly gave him a little over a dollar to wait those three painstaking hours for me!

So, the conclusion of this blog entry is as follows: I've seen many good people doing seemingly thankless work, and I hope that they're all able to have a good quality of life and earn the respect that they deserve... And I'm thankful to all of them who've made my surroundings in Colombia much cleaner!! ;-)

Support for Local Artists

2009-01-12T16:14:00.000-08:00

Anywhere in Latin America, you'll be able to find cheap handmade crafts that are usually the result of a trade that has been passed down for generations and many hours of hard work. I have always done my best to support these local artists and pay a decent prize for their creations. Here in Colombia, I've also picked up the habit of discussing the process of creating a given piece with the person selling it and taking a picture of my purchase with the artist who made it. This has become particularly helpful when buying gifts-- because, that way, my friend or family member receiving what I've bought feels connected with the ¨mastermind¨ behind his/her present and understands what it's all about. I guess I just like stories, and even the things I purchase have stories of their own. Here are a few of the things I've acquired here in Colombia (some of you may recognize your Christmas gifts... or, if you haven't received yours yet, try to guess which one is for you!):

I bought this woven basket at an Indigenous art fair in Cali. The woman selling it was part of a women's cooperative and taught me a great deal about the natural dyes and fibers used to make it. What a tedious process! Remarkably, it is very similar to a basket Erica and I purchased in Botswana, Africa!!!These woven bags are a trademark of the Wayuu people. They require a very intricate process that is very much like crocheting and come in many bright colors. The vendor here showed us how she carefully crafted each one, creating designs of importance in the Wayuu's history, and explained to us some of her personal history-- like how she'd ended up in Santa Marta from La Guajira.
This girl had recently undergone her ¨encierro,¨ which is a traditional rite of passage for young women of the Wayuu culture. Once they begin menstruating, the process begins. Their hair is cut off (or very short), and they are kept alone in small quarters for many days, which allows them to undergo psychological maturing as well. They also are expected to perfect their craft-making skills during this time because (as this girl's grandmother told us) ¨there's not much to do.¨ She had made the belt (wrapped around her forehead) and begun this bag (it apparently took more days than that to make) that I bought while taking part in her ¨encierro.¨While this little guy did not make this bag that I bought for myself (his sister did), he was such a skilled young salesman that I felt that it was very important to photograph him as well. I really hope that he gets an education because I am certain that a promising career in marketing or sales is ahead of him! =)
I added this one as an afterthought-- not only because it shows me with the Ticuna woman who had made this beautiful hand-woven basket that I purchased in the Amazon, but it also shows why I've felt like such a giant in these parts!

Case sisters hit the road again!

2009-01-09T14:28:00.000-08:00

Erica and I had really amazing experiences as we journeyed through some of Colombia's most memorable, exciting, and beautiful sites. Of course, there were times when we were reminded of all of the frustrations of traveling [ahem! Here are some examples: having people try to charge us for a service when we'd already paid someone else for it, being charged the "rich foreigner" price for something, and (the absolute worst) being convinced to pay full-price for a "seat" on an overnight or multi-hour bus ride-- when there actually weren't any seats left-- leaving us to endure hours upon end of extra-uncomfortable traveling... Grrrrrr!]... But, those complaints aside, I can honestly say that we were more than content with all that we saw, did, and felt throughout our travels. Here is a bit about our adventures:

DESTINATION ONE: SAN GIL (and BARICHARA)

After two flights, three taxi rides, and one long bus ride, we finally made it to our first stop: San Gil. We were instantly impressed with the rugged landscapes that surrounded us, and it was relaxing to take it all in with the striking 360-degree natural view from our balcony. Shortly afterward, we found ourselves in the nearby charming and calm, old-fashioned colonial town of Barichara. Our trip was off to a great start!

This is one of the impressive scenes that we photographed during our bus ride into San Gil, which certainly typifies the geography of the area. We were later able to raft down the river featured here. As seasoned rafters, it wasn't exactly thrilling for us, but we enjoyed the scenery and experience nonetheless.

We went on a beautiful waterfall-filled hike to make it to the top of this 180-foot waterfall... Then...

...we got a taste of what the water was like (you can tell how cold it was by Erica's expression here!)... And finally, the next day, ...

... we rappelled down the waterfall-- such an adrenaline rush!

Our adventures also included a very intense spelunking experience. We climbed, crawled, and even slithered through a variety of the "Cueva del Indio's" chambers, which had all sorts of stalactites and stalagmites and varying levels of water. Our caving trek culminated with a very horrifying plunge into a pool of water many feet below a platform, in pure darkness. The guides (it was a one-on-one ratio because there were two guides for the two of us!) explained the pencil-straight jumping technique, mentioning that we must avoid any of the stalagmites that we could not see. They then had to count "uno, dos, tres" about 15 times for each of us before we finally got the courage to jump. (We later redeemed ourselves by climbing up a metal ladder and doing it a second time)... I also must mention the cave was home to many new little friends, including three types of these beautiful...

... bats!

Speaking of beauty, we thoroughly enjoyed the tranquil and cute town of Barichara (just 40 minutes from San Gil). Barichara is known as one of South America's "nicest small towns," and it keeps things "traditional" by using stone roads, instead of pavement; lanterns, instead of streetlights; narrow roads; and traditional materials and construction styles for all homes and buildings.

The town is famous for its stonework. Here I am with two stone oxen statues-- two of many statues skillfully crafted of stone found throughout the pueblo. Barichara even boasts an annual stone sculpting festival, which brings artists from all around the world.

The town's churches and chapels are very unique and also made of stone. If you look closely, you can also see me in this picture! 80)

DESTINATION TWO: SANTA MARTA

Santa Marta was Colombia's first settlement and is home to natural jewels that combine snow-covered mountains, stunning beaches, and jungle. While we had fun exploring the town itself, we enjoyed these outdoor treasures most.

These are my shoes drying on our balcony, happy to be in the sun and adding to the view from our hotel room. (There was even a tinted plastic to prevent any glare-- like built-in sunglasses!).

This is a shot of Parque Tayrona, a national park with gorgeous beaches, surrounded by jungle trails. We didn't have time to do too much exploring, but we hiked around and spent a day playing in the waves.

DESTINATION THREE: [VARIOUS SITES OF] LA GUAJIRA

The department [province] of La Guajira is a little-known destination (in fact, it's not even in my guide book) whose main residents are the Wayuu indigenous people. Like all of the other stops of our trip, it has stunning views... but it also had quite the "off-the-beaten-path" feel to it.

In order to get around Guajira, one must have a special four-wheel drive jeep known as a "bubble." We had the misfortune of riding in one with incredibly bad tires, which forced us to make 5 unexpected stops for flat tires as we journeyed throughout the desert on our first day!!! Ay, ay, ay! (Our poor driver, Jacobo, had some really mad tire-changing skills... and he sure got a lot of practice!).

These stops, however, allowed us to watch the natives go about their daily life. The people mainly live off of goats, who roam about everywhere you go. (I was polite and tried goat meat twice, although I have to admit I was not a fan). This is a local goat herder as he waits for his somewhat rebellious goats to follow his lead.

Aside from goats, the area is able to produce a lot of salt. In another photo, I thought I'd be clever and make a "salt angel"... which was a very baaaaaad idea! I had to endure the rest of the long ride with lots of salt in my pants. =(

This is the site where we watched a couple beautiful sunsets. Behind Erica and me, you can see the various shades of the water; Colombians claim there are places with seven visible colors of the ocean.

We spent our nights sleeping in hammocks by the sea, which sounded pretty idyllic. I soon discovered, though, that I had had a slightly idealized view of this was like. Not only was it rather uncomfortable, but I was also awakened a few times by a stray, smelly (yet friendly) beach dog who came and licked my bottom during the night. Erica (pictured here) also got some pretty bad bug bites.

A small group of Wayuu welcomed us into their community to teach us about their traditional ways of life of yesteryear. The lesson began with them painting our faces with plant dye in the butterfly pattern that women traditionally wore.

Next, they taught us some of their typical dances. Here I am as I attempt to keep up with this little "chief" in a dance that basically involved me chasing him to a very fast drum beat. Funny story: If you look closely, you'll notice this little guy has a bald spot on the top of his head. I asked about it, thinking shaving a portion of a male's head had traditionally had some meaning and wanting to hear more about it. The whole community burst into laughter; it turns out my dancing partner had eaten lots and lots of a fruit that the monkeys of the area love, which tastes a lot like peanuts... Only it makes one's hair fall out! He seemed embarrassed once this was revealed to us and promptly put on a hat. =)

All over La Guajira, the Wayuu send their children out to sell handmade crafts (which, of course, Erica and I could not resist time and time again). I befriended these little girls on the streets of Riohacha (the main city of the department), and their brother begged and begged to take pictures of us with my camera.

Our last day in La Guajira involved riding a canoe to a turtle refuge. We saw many amazing birds on the way, including these wild flamingos. Flamingos are called "flamencos" in Spanish, just like flamenco dancing. I'm not sure which was discovered first (the dancing or the bird), but I can definitely see the connection: flamingos stop their feet like crazy to stir up food from the bottom of the sea floor, and they also swirl their long necks around-- reminding me of the graceful arm movements of flamenco dancers.

DESTINATION FOUR: CARTAGENA DE INDIAS

Cartagena de Indias is a beautiful, historical town on the Caribbean (Colombia's second settlement, after Santa Marta) with lots to see and do, and (once again) our time was too short to really take it all in (rats!). I had been to Cartagena during Cheryl/Kathleen/my mom's visit, but I did feel bad for Erica to "miss out" on all that Cartagena has to offer. I also noticed a huge difference from my previous Cartagena experience, during which there were no cruise ships, and this one-- during which the city was overtaken by loud, rude Americans (OK, so probably not all of them were "loud" and "rude"... but I do have to say that I was not impressed with their behavior!) on a Caribbean cruise. This also changed the dynamic of the city, with the street vendors becoming more aggressive than ever. However, we were still able to visit a few of Cartagena's museums, explore the Castillo de San felipe de Barajas (the largest fortress ever built by Spaniards in their colonies), walk peacefully in the "old town," and marvel at the views and unique architecture found within the city's historic protective walls.

Unfortunately, the cannons were not functional. =(

Cartagena's brightly-colored buildings and flowers are very cheery and uplifting.

This is Erica the in home of Pedro (Peter) Claver, where many scenes of Love in the Time of Cholera were filmed.

And, after all of our explorations and adventures, we were soon back in Cali again-- quite tired, a bit sun burnt, a bit itchy from multiple bug bites, and very satisfied with our new discoveries and freshly-created sister memories.

Cringing just thinking about it...

2009-01-05T23:17:00.000-08:00

Volunteering in a place for girls who've been abused, I've heard some pretty yucky stories of things that they've had to endure in their short lives. But I think the story that has affected me most comes from a young woman who's not even one of my students. Her tale is very disturbing, so be prepared before reading it here:

Like a lot of her relatives, Marisol was a product of incest (her father was also her grandfather), which means that she was born with mental disabilities. She looked absolutely normal, but her mind was not capable of performing the tasks that a "normal" one could. She learned to get the love and affection that she needed from older men and developed very sexual mannerisms at an early age. When it was discovered that her father/grandfather was getting sexual with her, she was put into the Maria Gorreti Home.

It was there that she was able to escape from that risky, horrible environment and learn practical life skills-- like how to ride the bus, how to use money, how to take care of herself, etc. She made a lot of progress.... BUT.... then, she turned 18.

At 18, she was no longer able to live there, and there were no other government agencies that could take care of her. Her immediate family was deemed "unfit" (of course!), and other relatives (who also had incest in the family) were also deemed incapable of taking care of her. Finally, it was decided that a woman who had known her almost her entire life would be trusted with Marisol's care. And she left the Maria Gorreti Home for good.

However, Marisol continued to periodically pop into MG because it offered her free toiletries, feminine supplies, etc. that she needed. The Director, Amparo, soon heard that her "guardian" had kicked her out because she'd been spending a lot of time with a man, and she was now living with this man.

One day, when I was there, Marisol came in wearing a pretty seductive, strapless, backless little gold dress with matching gold high heels to accompany it. Amparo told her, "Marisol, what are you doing in this outfit? You can't wear something like this. It is very disrespectful for your own body." She then offered to exchange the dress and shoes for a pair of pants, new tennis shoes, and a t-shirt that she had in the donations closet. Marisol agreed and left, seemingly content with her new addition to her wardrobe.

Yet, apparently, she returned the next day (I wasn't there) with all sorts of signs of abuse on her face and body. She explained that the man whom she lived with was very angry that she had given up her golden outfit because he had bought it for her... and it later came out that he was prostituting her out, keeping all of the profit for himself! Basically using her as a sex slave for other men!!!

Marisol said she knew this was not right, and she did not like it, but she didn't know what else to do. She wanted her dress back because she didn't want to be hit again, and Amparo gave it to her. [Another somewhat unrelated thought: She has no phone and doesn't know her address (she couldn't even remember how to write her name when I asked her for it), so contacting her is very complicated].

Amparo then started calling around to find an agency or foundation that could help Marisol, but there was nothing. She said, "There's no one to help her because she's not a child any more." "What about the police?" I asked. "HA!" she replied, "Like they'd do anything." "What about the Instituto Colombiano de Bienestar Familiar [basically the welfare/CPS of Colombia]?" I asked. "They won't do anything either, as she is over 18." I started thinking of all the places I could call in the US that would help in a situation like this one, but most of them don't exist in Colombia and wouldn't help her if they did.

Therefore, Amparo came up with an idea: "You know, we taught her functional skills here. She can clean," she said, "We need to find some nursing home or somewhere where she could get room and board in exchange for doing the cleaning. She would be safe there." So, she called a few places with absolutely no luck. She told me to ask around, and I asked everyone I could think of if they could take in a live-in cleaning lady (live-in housekeepers are very common here). Nada. I found absolutamente nadie who could help her; it was really upsetting to me.

Sooooooooooo, poor Marisol continues living with this man, subjecting herself to who-knows-what kind of treatment and who-knows-what kinds of diseases. I hope that she is able to find some way to get out of her harmful surroundings; please pray that she moves on to something better. And let's also hope that new foundations will be born in Cali that assist people (including adults) with mental disabilities and women stuck in abusive and destructive situations.

Silvia, Guambia, and beyond!

2009-01-05T21:58:00.000-08:00

I had always found Jeremias, one of my classmates, to be a very intriguing person. He was a proud spokesman for his Guambiano people, and he often looked out of place in the university setting that surrounded us with his traditional dress-- which included brightly died fabrics, a little hat (usually hanging on his back), boots, and what looked like a blue skirt. He also rode the bus for three hours or more to come into Cali from his home in the mountains for each of our classes, and he had played an instrumental part in creating an indigenous radio station that helped to preserve the cultural identity of his people. In short, I really esteemed him and wanted to learn more about him.

Therefore, I became very excited when he invited me to "get to know his beautiful land and people" many months ago and even more excited when I was actually able to turn this trip into a reality in December. Carlos, Carmen, Erica, and I rented a car and were on our merry way. Although Silvia has been a constant victim of guerrilla and paramilitary violence, and I was warned that I shouldn't go, I found the town to be quaint, interesting, and a breath of fresh air from Cali.

Here Jeremias is with his wife, Liliana.

I planned it so that we would arrive for market day, which provided for a flurry of activity.

I really like this shot of Erica because she just plopped right on down in the town center, not minding how out of place she looked.

Jeremias and his colleagues put us on air on their indigenous radio station. They asked us for comments and impressions, and we also did quite a few language exchanges. They laughed as we butchered words in Guambiano, and featured in this photo is Carmen reading a message that says, "Thanks for tuning in" in Guambiano. She had previously attempted to teach us all how to say "good afternoon" in German. That probably got the most laughs-- talk about lots of syllables!

He even took us fishing... and guess who caught the first fish! ;)

Controversial Comic

2009-01-05T21:24:00.000-08:00

The comic above was translated and published today in one of Colombia's best-known newspapers, EL TIEMPO. The article explained that the Colombian government and the Colombian National Federation of Coffee Growers are in the process of producing official reactions to this Mother Goose and Grim statement produced by Mike Myers. Furthermore, the article itself generated 500 Online reader comments with rapid speed-- that were all over the board. Some Colombians said things like, "This is a direct attack at our country" or "Why do they say crap like that? Stuff like this is has already devastated the Colombian coffee industry and cost us millions of dollars," while others stated opinions like: "What can we ask for if that's our reality: drug trafficking, paramilitaries, the guerrilla..." or "It's a great, funny, and accurate satire of what Colombia is like."

To me, these reactions really demonstrate the realities of Colombia. While most Colombians are filled with true pride for their country and adamant about showing the "other side" of their beloved homeland, they must also come to terms with the dark past and present that often overshadow the good things (like the Juan Valdez coffee) of their "tierra querida."

Amazon Adventure!

2009-01-03T16:01:00.000-08:00

Erica (my beloved sister) arrived to Colombia in early December, and our first trip (with Carmen, my great Austrian roommate after Melanie returned to Germany in June) took us to the distant province of Amazonas, home of Colombia's beautiful and intriguing Amazon Rainforest.

We had a fabulous time meeting all sorts of new friends (including ones of different species), visiting many simple communities, and frolicking in the jungle. Highlights of the trip included: interacting with monkeys of all sorts of species in an amazing refuge for monkeys who had been rescued after being orphaned or "kidnapped;" watching fireflies, distant lightning flashes (that looked like the Aurora Borealis), and wild monkey migrations at night; swimming in the Lago Tarapoto (formed by a tributary of the Amazon River); crossing the "border" into Peru; completing a challenging and unique course that included a rope climb, followed by a trip across a very unstable swinging bridge, culminating with a Tarzan-like descent from a Ceiba tree that was over 350-years-old; viewing gray and pink dolphins jumping both gracefully and awkwardly in the Amazon River; and a peaceful nocturnal canoe ride (while being serenaded by thousands of resident insects and frogs) in absolute darkness. Here is a little story book of photos:

This is the scene that appeared before us as our boat took us from Leticia to the simple lodge where we'd be staying in Parque Amacayacu. It is also where we met the 14 lively and spirited "paisas" (people from the province of Antioquia) who would be our roommates for the week. While we found them quite humorous and entertaining, we wished they wouldn't start singing about what a great time they were having at 5:00am daily. =)

This is one of my artistic shots. I loved looking at the clouds' reflections in the Amazon River.

This is Javier, one of our local guides. Like many of the others we met, he was able to teach us a great deal about the medicinal and cultural practices of his people and translated Ticuna (the native language spoken by many inhabitants of the area) for us (which, in turn, I had to translate into English).

The various communities still practice many of their native ways of living off the land. I always ask permission to photograph people, and this woman agreed to let me take her picture-- only after I promised to let her see it afterwards. She and her friends laughed a good 10 minutes after viewing this shot.

The lilly pads of the area are known as "victoria regias." They allegedly are so strong that they can support the weight of a person, although we chose not to test this theory.

We were all told to purchase these stylish boots before embarking on our journey. They definitely were a wise investment!

This is a close-up shot of the platform that we reached after our rope-climbing feat. The technique of this endeavor was a little complicated at first; it involved raising the ascender attached to one's hands, followed by the one attached to one's feet, all the while moving from a squat to a standing position.

This is Carmen as she passed the swinging bridge. Note the excitement on her face because she is almost to the top-- whew, what relief!

The monkeys in the refuge were very mischievous. I became thoroughly embarrassed after one broke into my backpack, opened the front pocket, removed a "feminine product," and proceeded to taunt me by tearing it into little pieces in front of everyone else-- all in the blink of an eye. How rude!! Another leapt from a tree and quickly removed the pencil that I had used to tie up my hair, after which he promptly began chewing it and holding it in his mouth like a cigar. Perhaps their favorite activity, though, was attempting to grab Erica's eyebrow piercing (as shown here). Poor Erica was forced to keep her eyebrow covered by her hat, as the monkeys constantly tried to get to the tempting pieces of shiny silver above her eye.

Not all monkeys, however, were so poorly behaved. This little gal just wanted to be petted and held.... and ....

... ones like this one (called "abuelas" because they look like grandmothers) seemed to be very kind and peaceful.

Other native animals of the area were a little bit trickier to photograph. Although I tried really hard to capture the gray and pink dolphins as they occasionally surfaced, my reflexes never were fast enough to capture an image of them before they were back in the water again. Therefore, I had to use a secret trick to get this photo of these pink dolphins... ;-)

Even though these look like some sort of floating buoys, they are actually are faces as we swim in Lago Tarapota, formed by the Amazon River. What was really incredible for me about that experience was that the water was full of many pockets of very different temperatures; one little space would feel like a hot tub and then a spot about a foot away would be freeeeeeeezing. I had never felt such variable water!

The people seemed to find us as interesting as we found them. This group of children watched very attentively as we stripped down to our swimming suits before jumping into the lake. One little boy acted similiarly to the monkeys and had a great time going through the stuff in my backpack, holding each thing up and saying something to me in Ticuna that I couldn't understand. We also found it very amusing as one little girl (the one peaking over the shoulder of her friend) proudly showed us her pet cockroach. I really enjoy little cultural exchanges like those ones.

One of our favorite activities was a nocturnal canoe ride down the Amazon River (as mentioned above). It was both very peaceful and quite intense at the same time, as the darkness of the night was somehow very calming, yet we could hear and occasionally see the thousands of other nocturnal insect, amphibian, bird, and animal companions who surrounded us during our canoeing escapade.

Watching the nightly sunsets was a great way to unwind after a day of constant activity. 80)

Another visitor in Cali!

2009-01-03T14:52:00.000-08:00

Alina, a fellow Rotary Ambassadorial Scholar stationed in Medellín since July, was able to come to my neck of the woods in November, allowing her to get a real feeling for la "vida Caleña." Since she was way more on top of things than me and wrote a very nice reflection, I thought I'd share it with you here (along with my photos and captions to accompany her narrative):

Here Alina and I are as we try "cholados," a tasty local specialty that is basically like a snow cone, ice cream sundae, and an extravagant fruit salad all wrapped into one yummy treat!

Thanksgiving in Cali

On Thanksgiving morning I woke up to the rambling of a bus beneath me and a view of endless sugarcane fields out the window. My nose hairs burned from the smell of ammonia I had endured the entire night, and I still kept my hood up around my face trying to hide the fact that I was the only female to step on board since we had left Medellin, but I was almost at my destination: Cali.

I have been in relatively close contact with Hilary, one of the other Rotary Ambassadorial Scholars who is stationed in this third-largest Colombian city, and after hitting it off at a meeting in Medellin back at the end of July I resolved to visit her and her host club before she leaves in December. For this reason I rolled into town early on Thursday morning for a wonderful whirlwind visit to the salsa capital of the country. I greatly appreciate her hospitality, and now realize how helpful it is to commiserate with other Americans to pick up on all the different Colombian nuances they are experiencing. Through our long conversations about cultural differences between ‘here and there’, I gained a new perspective on my host country through eyes equally intrigued and insightful as my own.

Cali has grown immensely in the past 20 years, but in a way of which no Colombian is proud. They suffer from more corruption than almost any other city, and the government is still more dictated by mafia and drug cartels than public interest. In the 1980’s there was a destructive earthquake in a predominantly Afro-Colombian town along the Pacific coast, bringing hundreds of thousands of displaced people into Cali. As an extremely racist culture, everyone admits that the influx of a darker-skinned population has led to the demise of the whole city and caustic stereotypes.

While wandering around an artesania district and climbing up a large hill to a shut-down church with a great view of the city, I saw just how extensive Cali is in comparison to Medellin. With the vastness of the Valle de Cauca welcoming the city’s expansion, it appears much larger and bustling than my part of Colombia when really it is 200,000 people shy of Medellin’s population. I was impressed by the Centro’s old streets and colonial buildings mixed in with glass-plated sky scrapers and new bridges. The Archaeological Museum taught me more about the country’s indigenous population than anything I could find in Medellin, housed in a beautiful old church. After getting a good dose of phallic pottery and shriveled but intact mummies, we headed over to an indigenous art fair where I talked with women and men from all over the country about the complications encountered by their people and admired (as well as bought) beautiful beaded jewelry, woven baskets, and carved salad tongs. I even bought a bottle of coca wine—something of which I had never heard after living a year and a half in the Andes and proved to be quite delicious!

Instead of braving the frustration of recreating a traditional Thanksgiving meal in a country where turkeys are less common than toucans, Hilary and I headed to Crepe’s and Waffles for dinner for the closest food we could find to American. I had a delicious red curry shrimp and quinoa salad, topped off with an ice-cream sundae and a side of hot extra chocolate syrup. If I am allowed any bragging rights in my own blog, I will admit that before leaving Medellin I cut open a small pumpkin sitting on my dining room table as decoration since before Halloween and baked a delicious batch of pumpkin pie filling (gluten-free without the crust!) from scratch following a recipe I found on the internet. November just isn’t the same for me without pumpkin pie, no matter where in the world I find myself.

Friday we got up early and headed out to Cali’s sport center to watch the Colombian National Games. I was introduced to the national sport of ‘Tejo’, which is somewhat like horseshoes with pyrotechnics. Supposedly an indigenous game, teams compete against each other by throwing a conical metal disk at a slanted bed of clay trying to knock it against a circle of gunpowder in the middle to make a large pop, spark, and plume of smoke to ignite the cheers from the excitable spectators. Although I still don’t really understand the rules or point of the game, it was interesting to see something so typically ‘Colombian’.

This is one of my photos of a contender throwing his small medal disc in the "tejo" competition (sorry, you have to look very close!). While Alina and I struggled with understanding the objectives and technicalities of the game, it sure turned out to be an exciting venue for us and our fellow spectators!

Next it was off to tennis, where I was itching to slide around on the clay courts with the young girls and boys sweating out the midday heat. After a break for lunch and a visit from an American Fulbright Scholar also working in Cali, we headed over to the stadium to watch Track & Field. Pole Vaulting, the Women and Men’s 800, Long-Jump, and Women’s 5000 were all exciting to witness with the backdrop of the Andes turning into shadows behind the grandstand as the sun set. Teams from the different departments in Colombia compete against each other in all the sports, and I am proud to say that my Antioquia did very well. It seems silly that I should have so much paisa pride after less than six months of living in Medellin, perhaps embellished by my fantasy that I have exercised alongside the athletes competing in the National Games during my morning runs around the Estadio, but it was easy to be partial while getting swept up in the competitive spirit.

The last, and most fascinating, sport we watched was swimming. But even after watching hours of Olympic swimming over the summer waiting for Phelps to compete, I have to say that I have never witnessed any nautical sport as intriguing as what I saw this weekend. Eight girls walked into the stadium in their swimming suits and caps, carrying one large fin. As they lined up on the starting blocks, they put on their fins, placed a snorkel into their mouth, and sat like mermaids at the edge of the pool. At the sound of the whistle they flopped gracefully into the water, keeping their arms outstretched in front of them and repeating an undulating butterfly kick for over 15 minutes (I lost track of the distance). Needless to say, now I want to bring a monofin back with me to the states to impress everyone with my sub aquatic mermaid moves.

Look very closely, and you'll see the eight female finalists in the "nado con monoaleta" (I have to specify that it was superficie, as they apparently have the same competition underwater) swimming championship at the National Games. They are preparing for the long race ahead of them by strapping their feet into their their mermaid fins and putting on their snorkel. It was pretty fantastic; I think that you have to see it for yourself. I found the following YouTube links that show the movements of the competition pretty clearly: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=zcsy4CqGiUA&NR=1 (although that one does not include the flip-turn) and http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=k1e2ejwV8Wc . Who wants to start a team with me? =)

It would be a sin to visit Cali without going salsa dancing, so us three American girls went to a classic club with our Colombian pairs and tried to forget that we hadn’t grown up with fluid hips. I hope that people aren’t complimenting my dance skills out of pity, because I do feel like I have greatly improved my Latin dance skills since arriving and no longer need to look at my partner’s feet but rather let myself be carried away by the beat of the music and the pressure of a hand on my back.

This is our little group as we took a break from our vigorous salsa dancing. For the first time, I was with two other Americans (including Elizabeth, a Fulbright Scholar whom I met at a speaking event once), in addition to our three fearless Colombian dance partners: Carlos, Daniel, and Yapenque.

Saturday I woke up with sore calves and tense shoulder blades, but ready to relax at the most gorgeous finca I have yet encountered while enjoying an end-of-year party with Hilary’s host Rotary Club Cali San Fernando. With three pools, two of which were natural and fed by waterfalls heading out of the hillside, a large drink bar and dance floor, largest collection of orchids I have EVER seen, and trail down to the river and mountains beyond, I was more than happy to gorge myself on traditional food and wander around marveling at the natural Colombian beauty that never ceases to impress me.

Orchids like these could be found growing all around the "finca."

Who wouldn't want to spend some quality time here?!

All the Rotarians were extremely friendly and welcoming of me as a fellow scholar, although I was a bit intimidated by the way that they raved about Hilary, hoping that I could be complimented with such a strong assessment at the end of my scholarship year. The evening naturally devolved into more food, drink, and dancing—where I was swept around through the evening by old and young Rotarians until my shirt was completely soaked and my face hurt from laughing so much. I absolutely love how Colombians—no matter what age—will dance to any music. Hip-hop, reggaeton, funk, vallenato, and of course salsa all inspire their bodies into motion. I have not seen one person in this country who lacks rhythm.

Like most Colombians, the Rotarians can turn any occasion into a dance party... and sure know how to get down to the music!

Sunday morning found me back on a bus for ten hours, riding through more sugar cane fields and up treacherous mountains. Although Cali has great dance culture, awesome graffiti, and less pollution, the weekend made me appreciate Medellin for its Metro, stunning surrounding mountains, strong cultural identity, and hot water.
--BY ALINA SHAW, DECEMBER 2, 2008

Distracted!

2008-11-27T16:56:00.000-08:00

Although I should be concentrating on more important things (like term papers), my mind keeps shifting to all of the upcoming exciting explorations that I'm soon to experience. Alina (another Rotary Ambassadorial Scholar studying in Medellín) arrived this morning for a few days of local adventures, and Erica (my beloved sister) will come on Sunday (I'll make her write a blog entry like all of my other guests, of course!). She and I will journey to the Amazon, while we'll see the famous pink dolphins and be one with the deep jungle; Santander, where we'll visit beautiful pueblos and partake in extreme sports in Colombia's "adrenaline capital;" Santa Marta, where we'll marvel at the one-of-a-kind view of a snow-capped mountain next to the beautiful Caribbean Sea; Guajira, where we'll sleep in hammocks on the tranquil beach after days of excursions with fascinating indigenous people; and Cartagena, where we'll enjoy one of Colombia's most historical and breathtaking cities.

How can I focus if I have so much to look forward to?!

The Wheels on the Bus Go Round and Round...

2008-11-26T09:07:00.000-08:00

Transportation in Cali still proves to be an interesting and sometimes frightening part of my daily life. Not only could I still continue to write my motorcycle diaries (my friend, Paola, often gives me a ride to class on her bike), but I could produce an entire book filled with my regular escapades on the bus.

Yesterday, for instance, after my journey from my apartment (in the South of the city) to Liliana and Fernando's house (in the north of the city), I arrived without enough money for the return bus trip (which is 1,500 pesos, or about 75cents). This was due to the various entertainers, vendors, and beggars who had given their spiels to us, the bus passengers (who, after all, are a captive audience). First, a crippled woman got on and presented to all of the passengers, explaining that she and her children had been displaced (due to violence), and she had not been able to find work in Cali. Although people always tell me to be skeptical of people asking for money like this (who are everywhere), I gave her a few coins. Then, a man performed by singing about how women should not be abused with his little guitar and reciting poetry (while still playing the little guitar) about how black and white people should get along, and I gave him some coins as well. Next, a man selling hand-crafted dolphin pendents boarded. I didn't buy one, but he had obviously worked so hard on his little sales pitch (talking about the endangered pink dolphins in Colombia's Amazon) that I felt he deserved a few coins, too. Finally, a man selling tooth brushes that fold-up hopped on, showing us how practical they could be. He ended by saying, "And by closing this tooth brush, you will prevent cockroaches from walking on the bristles!"... And, with a quality like that, how could I not buy one?!! =)

Even though cars are true luxury here and the majority of the population relies on buses and/or taxis, it is important to note that Cali (unlike Medellín and Bogotá) does not have a public transportation system. They are working on finishing a project of a bus line called the Mio, but (due to corruption and vandalism) this has been a very long-time coming. Therefore, all buses are privately-run businesses, and they can pretty much follow any rules that they want. There are no designated stops; bus drivers can arbitrarily change their normal routes; they will lie to you and tell you they go to places they actually don't (just so you'll hop on board); and they race with one another to pick up the many Caleños flagging down buses on the side of the road.

Bus performers must delicately keep their balance in the aisles. This Andean flute and guitar player ended up in my lap after we swerved to miss a large hole in the road.

The buses must maneuver through the crowded streets of taxis, pedestrians, cars, carts, horses, trucks, etc. Since they allow people to get off or on anywhere, this can prove to be quite a mess.

The trend seems to be "the more = the merrier." While I don't often get to ride on a "chiva" like this one (which is actually filled with indigenous people headed to the protest), I do often get to stand with lots of others in the aisles, packed in like sardines. This is particulary uncomfortable in the "busetas" (or smaller buses) because I am too tall and must hunch over, hoping that a seat will soon become available.Then, however, there are the times when I am alone on the bus. This makes me nervous because the driver sometimes gives me my money back and asks me to get off in some random place, as it "isn't worth it" to continue driving for just one person. This means I am left to find another bus to get me where I need to be, starting the whole process all over again...

Un-Constructive Criticism

2008-11-18T13:37:00.000-08:00

Saturday was not a good day for me.

Still recovering from the 17-hour bus ride from Bogotá to Cali (that should have only been 12 hours-- tops, mind you!), I wasn't exactly in my best of states. I was groggy and exhausted. Our professor had assigned us 3 major group projects to present in one day (talk about pressure!), and my group members and I had frantically worked very hard to pull it all together before I left for my trip. Still, it had all turned out quite nicely.

However, as I've mentioned before, I've had a bit of a complex and have always struggled with feeling like the "weakest link" of my graduate program. Things have certainly improved, but I'm still the only non-native Spanish speaker, and I am one of the youngest members of our cohort. I have often felt like people are a bit condescending to me and underestimate my abilities. Although they treat me with kindness, I've always felt the need to prove to them that I am a capable, qualified, and intelligent human being-- not just the "funny little American."

Therefore, in presentations like these ones, I try really hard to show that I know what I'm doing and can understand and communicate complex ideas. I probably put more pressure on myself than I should, but I want to blow everyone away with my capabilities... or at least that's the idea.

Our first presentation was about women, as a protected group in International Humanitarian Law (the main focus of the program), in the context of Colombia. Rosario, Sonia, and I had prepared almost 150 PowerPoint slides for our presentation, but (when it was our turn to present) the professor announced that we'd only be given 15 minutes (whereas other groups had presented for over an hour). As I showed our slide with our list of what our presentation would include (our "road map" or table of contents), she told us that we should skip basically everything that I was going to present, moving right along to Rosario's part.

I skipped all of the precious slides that I had so carefully created and rehearsed in my mind until I arrived to the ones pertaining to the topic she requested. She then proceeded to talk over me, using more and more of our precious 15 minutes.

Furthermore, she insulted me-- right in front of all of my classmates. It was like a slap in the face; I couldn't believe it. This got me flustered, and I said, "Now you've made me nervous!" Everyone laughed, but I wasn't trying to be funny. She had made a personal attack in a public environment; I didn't find it humorous at all.

Then, she interrupted me once again, saying: "If you're nervous, why don't you just speak in English?"

This was another insult. Was she doubting my capabilities as well? Perhaps I was a little harsh, but I instantly snapped, "No" at her. I had done all the work in Spanish, and it was her who had thrown me off course-- not a language barrier.

I continued as fast as I could, skipping more and more slides to get to the point where my other group members could present. I ended abruptly, skipping my last several slides and announcing that Rosario would then begin with her part. I then proceeded to sit down.

In front of everyone, she told me, "If you want to work with victims, you'll need to learn to manage stress. You'll never be able to handle it." Excuse me???! I was incredibly ticked off. What did she know about me? What gave her the right to say this in front of everyone else? This was personal insult #3.

I felt like saying, "If you want to work with victims, you'll need to learn something called respect and something called tact-- or maybe even something called empathy." However, I just told her "thank you" and filled my mind with more negative thoughts than I probably should have allowed.

I have pondered sending her an email with all due respect, explaining what I feel about her actions and how they affected me. However, I think she'll probably just brush it off by saying it was all just a "cultural misunderstanding." Part of this could be true, but I think that a lot of what she said/did would be considered rude in any culture.

And, in case you were wondering, she gave us a rare and impressive 100% on the project. Perhaps she just enjoys intimidating her students??? I, for one, was not amused.

Arka Foundation

2008-11-12T22:05:00.000-08:00

I spent today visiting two sites of "Fundación Arka," an organization that provides full days of educational activities and nutritional food for 200 children between the ages of 2 and 5. The children come from very "marginal" communities and are rated on a scale of necessity, which focuses on kids who have: high rates of malnutrition, come from overcrowded homes, have only one source of income in their household, have a family income of less than $1.25/day/person, live in a very risky physical environment, live in a potentially risky social enviroment—such as housing with drug addicts/criminals/abusers, and/or come from areas with high environmental risks-- like landslides.

The idea is that the education of children must start early, in order to really make a difference. The programs are based on the following concept: "In Colombia, poverty is hereditary. Unless we intervene by changing the children’s environment and helping them develop study habits, 95% of the children whose parents did not complete primary school will ultimately also drop out. This lack of education is the surest way to condemn them to a lower income bracket." --Fedesarrollo.

María Eugenia, the Director of the Program, was more than kind and even rode the bus for a total of 4.5 hours to be able to guide me around the sites. I learned a lot about the philosophies, goals, frustrations, and plans of the foundation, and I got to spend a lot of time with entertaining preschoolers.

Within the schools, the children seemed like "normal" kids. They laughed, picked little fights with one another, begged and begged to get their picture taken (of course!), sang little songs, drew pictures, and had some mischievous moments.

I accidentally captured this moment of shame as this little one got into trouble.

This group just returned from the park.

These children became distracted from their lunches as they waved at me shouting, "Take my picture! Look at me!"
These little ones are heading for a trip to the potty.
And, of course, what day would be complete without nap time?!

Yet, as "normal" as they seemed, it's not "normal" for a child to be malnourished, to live without basic needs being met, to lack basic hygiene habits, to have to share a small space with several others, or not receive the attention that a developing mind needs ... But the Arka Centers really seem to bring that needed "normalcy" to the lives, hopefully undoing all of the harm done as soon as they leave their schools and enter their "abnormal" home environments.

Drawn by Nature's Valley

2008-11-10T17:51:00.000-08:00

Friday, I took the overnight bus to Bogotá. When I arrived on Saturday, I was kindly welcomed by Rotarian hosts for the week, who invited me to various activities throughout the day. I even took my first warm shower since I was traveling with my family! I have had many neat experiences since I arrived here (like dining with a local member of the City Council), but the most impacting of them thus far was a day spent with a local community surrounding Bogotá. It is an area similar to many found outside of Cali, consisting of lots of displaced people who've migrated to the city and set up their new homes with makeshift materials. Most of these neighborhoods are technically "illegal" because they are not officially recognized by the government and therefore are not often provided with basic services, like water and electricity. (Many outside of Cali have recently been recognized). In order to reach these communities, one must hop into one of the jeeps that can transverse through the steep and uneven dirt roads-- an ascent which is impossible after heavy rains. Luckily, we were able to make it!
The day was special because the people were celebrating the opening of a new community room (made possible through various organizations), which will soon be the home of useful trainings, workshops, and events of the people.One of the first people I met was María Cecilia, one of the local leaders who has been involved with all sorts of projects to improve the zone, serving as an adviser and liaison between the people served and the agencies and organizations working to help them. She told me about how her life had been threatened by paramilitaries, who often see people like her as a threat because they help to empower others-- who will then not be as easily intimidated. (For instance, human rights workers are often listed as victims of targeted assasinations). She had recently returned after being "protected" for a little while. She told me, "I've already been displaced once, and I'm not going to be displaced again!"The service project of the day was basically a yard sale that sold clothing and household goods to the people for very cheap prices (like 50 cents or less for each thing), with the proceeds going to other projects. While this was interesting to watch, what will stick with me the most was my encounter with these two boys:They are two brothers (named Diego and Cristian), and they have lived in this area for all of their lives. Cristian (the older brother) had to interpret for Diego because (as much as I tried) I had trouble understanding him. He had obviously been born with a cleft lip and pallet. Although he told that he had had five surgeries to fix it (funded by Operation Smile), his speech was still really unclear, and the poor thing really struggled with communicating (even though it was obvious he was saying really intelligent things). I think perhaps his teeth were simply in the way of his tongue??

Here I am with Diego. He bought this sweater at the sale because he said he was always cold.

The two instantly began following me around, pretty much attached at my hip for the entire day. At first, I thought it was because of my digital camera, which always makes me very popular with the kids. Like many others of their age, they enjoyed getting their picture taken and taking pictures of other adorable children, like these ones:

Soon, though, I told them that they were going to take their "very last photo" because the "camera was retiring," and they still were right there beside me. I thought that perhaps they were just drawn to my evident charm or kindness (haha!) until I opened the second half of a Nature's Valley Bar. I could tell that they really wanted some, but they were just afraid to ask for it-- and it dawned on me that they'd become my shadow shortly after eating the first half. I gave them some pieces of it, and they seemed quite satisfied. I later went to buy some water (in a bag, of course!), and I bought them some empanadas. Other volunteers went to get some soft drinks and snacks, and they shared with them as well. The people in charge of the little sale had brought sandwiches for us, and I gave most of mine to Diego and Cristian, too. They never actually asked for anything, but they were always there, patiently waiting for an offer.

I learned a lot about them throughout our conversation. Their father had died, and they lived with their younger sister and mother, who does not work. We started talking about food, and I discovered why they were so eager to eat everything, "We only get food at school on weekdays. On weekends, we don't get anything, unless we find something," Cristian told me. I have seen many families begging for food or spare change in Colombia, but what struck me about these two was that they never, ever asked. They were strategic, but very dignified and gracious in finding ways to eat.

Health Service Fair Fun!

2008-11-07T10:15:00.000-08:00

Last weekend, I partook in yet another “jornada de salud” with my host Rotary Club in a poor neighborhood in Cali. The children of the community’s school were offered free eye care/ vision tests, dental treatment, and haircuts. I was in charge of dental services registration and had quite a few stressful moments. I often become frustrated because we can never serve everyone who greatly needs these check-ins, and it was up to me to tell frantic/begging parents that their kids could not receive the free dental care we were offering. I became frustrated when I discovered that other volunteers were allowing young children (4 or 5-year-olds) in to see the dentists (even though we were told this was not allowed). I had already turned away a few mothers who told me very convincing stories about how their small kids really, really needed dental care. 80( I felt really bad about this.

However, my interactions with the people soon started cheering me up. I had funny conversations with entertaining boys, and this adorable family was one of my favorite groups of people that I met throughout the day:

Indigenous People = United!

2008-11-07T09:59:00.000-08:00

I’ve done a lot of research projects on the indigenous people of Colombia in my studies, so I’ve really taken an interest in their cultures, ideas, and “civil resistance” tactics. Because they live outside the major cities, they have always been one of the groups most affected by the violence of the country; many of their people have been killed for no reason whatsoever. They also have been historically discriminated against and have done a great job of becoming united together to work for peace and achieve all of the rights they deserve.

One huge mobilization of the indigenous people of this area of Colombia began over two weeks ago. They were protesting for land that had been taken away from them and against the TLC (or free-trade agreement with the United States), among other concerns. Thousands of them marched down the Pan-American highway into Cali, carrying their typical symbol of the staff, which they held to connect to one another (like a long chain of people connected by large sticks). Sadly, under mysterious circumstances, two of them were shot and killed by the Colombian army along the way (even though it was a peaceful protest). Seven (including a child) had been killed recently at a demonstration outside of Bogotá (*not sure about the details*) , so it was certainly a risky endeavor! [There was also a protest in their name (although not by the indigenous themselves) by a group that always protests in the setting of Cali’s public university for all sorts of human-related issues (they just finished protesting in honor of the workers of sugar cane plantations). However, this group often becomes violent and destructive. It used “papa bombas” (potato bombs) that we could hear for two afternoons straight. It also left the nearby streets covered in broken glass, and several buses without tires.].

When the huge peaceful group of indigenous people arrived to Cali, we went to watch the rally at the local city center. Many of the participants wore their traditional attire, while others were clad in the modern gear of jeans and t-shirts. There were so many people that many had to climb into the trees to watch the speakers!

The president of the country (Álvaro Uribe) came all the way to Cali to address their concerns in person (it was the least he could do after so much had happened), but he arrived very, very late to their meeting point in the city center. Most of the indigenous people were offended by his late arrival and decided to leave in order to show how disrespectful he was to them. There were only a few people present when he arrived, and the stage had been destroyed. He was forced to talk through a microphone on a pedestrian bridge, and many people (who I actually don’t think they were indigenous) shouted rude insults at him. I know that they would have been “kindly escorted” away by the authorities had something like this happened in the United States, but they were allowed to continue their verbal attacks. President Uribe even responded to them, yelling back through his megaphone. He became particularly upset when these two particularly feisty hooligans began calling him a “paraco,” a term implying that he is involved with the paramilitary groups (Many, many members of the congress are being investigated for their connections to these right-wing violent groups, and rumors also claim that Uribe has ties to them as well). He shouted right back at the men, saying: “Don’t you ever, ever call me that again! If you want to say something, come up here and say something that’s productive!¨ He also made comments like, “Did you just invite me here to insult me?”

There have been a few other talks between the indigenous groups and the Colombian government since this very interesting encounter that I witnessed, but things have not yet been fully resolved. The government did agree to sign the United Nations Declaration on Rights of Indigenous Peoples, which is great progress. Here’s hoping they can come to some agreements soon!

Gotta' love the broom man!

2008-11-07T09:40:00.000-08:00

SWEET! I finally got a picture of the “broom man,” whom I mentioned in my blog about cultural differences. There are actually quite a few of them, and I find it very impressive how they’re able to balance their cleaning supplies for sale on their bikes, while pedaling around in the pothole-filled streets. I don’t know why I find them so amusing, but I thought you’d enjoy getting to see one of these famous “broom men” for yourselves!

Here he is making a house call to a large, wealthy apartment complex. “Anyone need any mops, toilet scrubbers, or brooms? Come check out my bike!”

He then rounds the corner onto a traffic-filled main road, sure to be met my many cars honking at him. Poor guy!

Team 10!

2008-11-07T09:17:00.000-08:00

Friday, I took part in a triathlon that featured competitors from four of the local universities. Some of you may remember my pretty horrible triathlon bike crash experience from over a year ago (which left me unconscious and with 3 fractures in my cheek bones and one in my left wrist) and question my desire to participate... But the beautiful thing about this one was that it was in teams! I simply had to do one leg of the race, which was not bad at all. Each team had to contain at least one woman, which made me popular (female athletes are rarer in these parts).

I was on a team with two guys from the swimming group that I’m in: Ricardo (age 41, although I had thought he was much younger) and Jairo (age 17, although I had thought he was much older). I chose to do the running part, although I regretted it later when I saw my fellow runners (all men, except for one other woman, because all of the women chose to swim) in their competitive track uniforms and warming up faster than I usually run at a “fast” pace... Yikes!

We ended up finishing fourth in our category (which were formed by the sum of the ages of the team members), and I was very pleased with this placement. I was hoping for third (just so we could get a medal) but fourth was okay, too. Here is a re-cap of the event:

First, we got ready for our race to begin. We were labeled by our team number (with permanent marker that didn’t fully come off for another two days, might I add!), and here we are proudly displaying our number 10’s. Go team 10!!

Ricardo began with the swimming. He started out way too fast and burnt himself out (even having to stop briefly at one point), but he did a great job and finished his part of the race nonetheless.

Next, Jairo was full speed into the bike course. It was really hard (and included lots of hills), but he did really well and made up for some of the time Ricardo had lost us. Cycling is the national sport of Colombia, and there are many amazing cyclists in the country. However, I watched as even the best of them fell on the course... but they all got right back up and kept going along, like true champions.

Finally, it was my turn! It was pretty unpleasant in the true heat of the day (at 1:00pm, yikes!) and with the many mosquitoes that bit me along the way (in spite of my fervent application of bug repellent), but I attempted to keep up a steady speed and not trip on the many tree roots throughout on the path. I would like you to know that no one was blinded by the glowing whiteness of my legs (hahaha!), and I finished strong (mainly because I kept thinking, “The faster I run, the sooner I can get in the shade!”).

Yay team!

Democracy from abroad

2008-11-04T08:29:00.000-08:00

Happy Election Day!

I would like to proudly announce that my ballot is officially in the mail, and I’m looking forward to discovering how things unfold tonight on the news. Voting from here proved to be a lot more challenging than I expected. My absentee ballot (which was sent from King County several weeks ago) never arrived, and (due to the unreliable mail system of Colombia) I was sure it wouldn’t come until far after the election—if ever! Therefore, I made a few phone calls and was sent an email ballot on Friday. I thought that I could simply fill it out, attach a signature from the “paint” program, and send it back... but no, no that was definitely NOT allowed! It had to be sent through the hit-and-miss Colombian snail mail.

My first step was printing the ballot on 8.5” by 14” paper, which I had to convert to centimeters (21.59cm by 35.56cm). I then had to walk to three different Internet Cafes to find one that was capable of printing on this paper (or at least offered that size as an option). I had a lot of trouble with the printing of it because the numbers, letters, and dashes at the bottom of the two pages wouldn’t show up. It was an un-rewritable pdf file, so I couldn’t modify it to allow these to be visible, so I simply hand-wrote them in (perhaps this will invalidate the ballot???). I then went to send it, only to discover that it would not leave Colombia until Tuesday (as it was a national holiday over the weekend), and it said it had to be postmarked “by” November 4th. I called the voting hotline listed on the absentee ballot, and they assured me that being postmarked on the day of the 4th itself would be okay. Therefore, I returned to the only mailing place that was open on the national holiday (which still wouldn’t send it until Tuesday anyway) and followed the instructions that were included with the ballot.

The instructions were very specific and said that I must put the ballot in a sealed envelope labeled “security envelope,” then put in my voter affidavit and seal them both in another envelope. I attempted to follow these rules, but I was told that an envelope inside of another envelope was not allowed for security purposes. I begged to the woman attending me and explained that my ballot would not be counted if I did not do as told. She finally agreed to this and handed me my bill: over the equivalent of $35USD. I then received a call saying she had made a mistake, and it was actually over $50USD, and I would have to return to the office (over a 45-minute bus ride away) to pay the remaining amount... Geez—exercising my democratic rights from afar sure is a hassle and certainly is expensive! 80) I just hope that it arrives and is counted, but (if not) no one can say that I didn’t try!

Reasons Why I'm not in "Kansas" Anymore...

2008-10-28T15:45:00.000-07:00

Traveling always introduces us to new ways of life and reminds us that no country on the planet does things exactly the same same way, which is one of the many beauties and frustrations of living outside of one's familiar territory. I could keep a daily blog that would be full of such observations, but here are a few of the clear distinctions from my "homeland" and my current country of residence that are coming to mind as I quickly attempt to keep this blog afloat:

Pharmacies: I think that one thing I've come to expect and take for granted in the USA is the fact that pharmacists are professionals who have had extensive training in their fields and, well... truly know what they're talking about. In Colombia, I have discovered that this is not the case. My best story to illustrate this finding involves a wart on the pointer finger of my right hand, which was born shortly after my arrival to South America. I eventually decided to use a USA-purchased nitrogen spray to freeze the little bugger off, but it was apparently determined to stay put and did not disappear. Therefore, I resorted to a local Colombian pharmacy, where I showed the "pharmacist" (AKA: the man selling medical supplies) my wart ("verruga" in Spanish). [As a side note, you need no prescription to buy any medicine here, and you can buy pills individually in unmarked packages without any instructions or descriptions. There is no such thing as the FDA]. He "prescribed" me a little glass bottle of something with a name I can't remember and told me to apply it to the wart three times a day, surrounding it with Vaseline to protect the nearby skin. He said it would fall off in four days.

I religiously applied the ointment as directed for far over four days, and my little wart friend still had not gone away. I knew that it was stubborn, and it seemed to be making some progress, so I continued the treatment for another 20 days, keeping the vile in my purse at all times and applying it more than the recommended three times per day. After day 28, I had become disillusioned. I showed the wart and treatment to Carlos' mom (who, once again, is a doctor). She instantly started laughing really hard. "That's what men put on their penises!!!" she told me. "I beg your pardon???!!" I had no idea what she was talking about ... She then explained that I had been given a treatment for sexually transmitted diseases, which had obviously had no effect on my wart. I felt very betrayed by this little container, which I had so carefully taken with me everywhere I went for the past month. It definitely let me down!! "Colombian pharmacies are just like any other store that someone owns to make a living. The workers there will sell you anything," I was told. I think I learned my lesson.

Selling: That last note is a great transition to another cultural norm that one finds in Colombia: any person of any age can sell you anything, anywhere, at any time. The informal sector of the economy is incredibly high (I once attended a conference on the economic "competitiveness" of Colombia that talked about specific numbers which I should be able to share with you, but I apologize for having forgotten them all. Just trust me that they are very high). People make a living by selling things on street corners, on buses [Note: I hope to do a full report about buses soon], in neighborhoods, at stoplights, in parking lots-- basically anywhere that people might be. The sad part for me has been to see the number of children who work selling items (mainly gum, candy, fruit, and avocados) at street lights and on buses, but I suppose families do what they can to support themselves.

This bicycle belongs to the man who, like many others, roams daily about our neighborhood, announcing his products by tooting a horn and calling them out in a megaphone. He sells mazamora (a drink made of corn and milk) and champus (a drink made of corn, lulo, pineapple, and cinnamon) and usually begins at around 7:00am. It’s a concept that reminds me of the "ice cream man," although I don't think that people get as excited about things like shoe polish, brooms [another short digression: one of my favorite images is the man awkwardly riding a bike while trying to balance his supply of brooms, dust pans, and mops on the front], and limes as children in the USA get for ice cream. =)

Paying bills: I have to say that one of the most annoying things that I’ve had to do here is pay bills. I won’t go into detail about all of the minor and major situations that have arisen from our monthly obligation to pay for water, telephone, gas, electricity, and public services, but I will say that I have learned to GREATLY appreciate the simple system that we have in the United States. Let’s face it—paying bills is NEVER fun... But receiving the wrong bill or the correct one after payment is due, having to go to inconveniently located places to hand over the money (as you have to pay in person), being forced to wait in long and chaotic lines, and being told that I’ve come to pay a bill too early and need to return a few days later are some of the things that have happened that have been just too much for me!!!

P.S.: Shortly after beginning this reflection, I realized that we had paid the WRONG phone bill that arrived to us a few months ago, which totaled over 120,000pesos (over $60USD)!!! I hadn’t even noticed that it wasn’t even our phone number. I just blindly trusted that is for us, at it arrived one day to our apartment address. Grrrrr!

Phrasing: Of course, Spanish is very different from English, and the language has its own way of phrasing things (case in point: “I have 25 years,” instead of “I am 25-years-old”). But what I’m talking about here is that Colombians have a distinct way of talking about certain situations—due to a different outlook about them (which even varies from other Latin American countries I’ve been in). For instance, whereas I would say “two weeks” or “one week,” Colombians say “15 days” or “8 days.” So, if today were Saturday, and I was going to see you next Saturday, I would say “See you in 8 days” (apparently today would count as day 1).

Another example is that you are often asked what you are, and you must reply according to what you studied (basically your university major in the form of a noun-- like “political scientist,” “social worker,” “sociologist,” “psychologist,” etc.). This gets confusing because people may not work in exactly the same field that they studied. My Italian teacher (yes, I’m randomly taking Italian classes in Spanish!), for example, studied law (which is only an undergraduate major here, not exactly like the law school system in the USA), so she calls herself a “lawyer,” even though she doesn’t practice law. The majors offered in the U.S. make this a little challenging. Like, if a person studies “International Studies,” does that make him/her an “international studier?” Or, since I majored in both Communication and Spanish, does that make me a “Spanish-speaking communicator?”

They also use terms like “vieja” (the noun for “old lady”) and “gordo” (which is basically “fattie”) to refer to others (who are neither old nor fat). They say things like “the bus left me,” instead of my natural inclination to say, “I missed the bus.” Etc., etc., etc.... Ergo, I’m trying my best to speak and think like a Colombian!

National Pride: Something that I’ve found amusing is the extent to which Colombians are very proud of their national and local anthems. They sing all of them (their national anthem, department [state] anthem, and city anthem) at all formal events, and (surprisingly) almost everyone seems to know all the words. I had a friend once tell me that his sister had a true life changing experience when she left her country for the first time and discovered that Colombia’s national album was not the most beautiful song in the world. The national anthem is played on all radio stations at 6:00am and 6:00pm daily, and it is also played periodically throughout the day. I find it funny when a song of popular culture—such as one of reggaton, pop, salsa, or merengue—is followed by the national anthem, and people begin to sing along with true patriotism. I mean, can you imagine listening to something like Britney Spears, and then pow! “Oh, say can you see...”…I guess people from other countries probably think it’s odd how children in U.S. schools recite the Pledge of Allegiance every morning … so my conclusion is that all patriotic traditions are only understood by those from the country in which they originate.
Fixing pets: Perhaps we can thank Bob Barker, but we North Americans are really into getting our pets spayed and neutered. This is ingrained in our minds since the very first time we get a pet, and I hadn’t realized how much this idea was a part of me until I ventured Southward and saw not just 100’s of non-fixed stray animals (There’s no such thing as an animal pound), but also the private pets of most families still having all of their parts (*note: I’m talking about Colombians who are “well off.” I wouldn’t apply the same pet care standard to those who live in extreme poverty) . The same expectation of scooping poop also seems to be unique to the U.S., which has provided for some unpleasant experiences. =)
Bags: It seems like almost any product in Colombia comes in a plastic bag. This includes the gasoline that I mentioned during the mattress-burning incident, in addition to all dairy products. I’ve attempted to explain the concept of a milk carton to various acquaintances, and it’s just about as foreign as I am! Yogurt (which is completely liquid, not like the stuff we eat with a spoon at home) also comes in the same style of bags. Refrigerator storage of opened bags of such products after they’ve been opened has proved to be a little challenging.

Here I am drinking water from a plastic bag, a very common and cheap way to become re-hydrated after a day in the sun.

Activities/games: As expected, the typical games at gatherings and parties in Colombia have their own distinct sets of rules and expectations. Sometimes, I’ve thought, “Oh, I know this game,” only to discover that it’s not exactly what I had in mind. I once was invited to this to a party which involved drawing the name of an “amigo secreto” (secret friend) a few days before the event. It seemed a lot like a white elephant exchange (which I LOVE, by the way), only I was told that there was a minimum spending requirement of 30.000 pesos (about $15USD). Hmmmm... I’d never heard of a gift exchange with a price minimum before! Furthermore, each person had to request what they wanted, and my “amigo secreto” had asked for a sweat suit set (not just sweatpants or a sweatshirt; he wanted them together). This proved to be very challenging in the warm weather climate of Cali, Colombia, and I spent several hours of time that I did not have searching for his requested gift. I almost gave up and bought him a gift card. However, I finally found a warm-up set (which, by the way, was far over the minimum price), which I assumed was what he wanted... although he didn’t seem too pleased with it upon receiving it the next day. I consoled myself by thinking “oh well, at least I tried” and enjoying the typical Colombian woven hat my “amigo secreto” purchased for me.
Seasons: I hadn’t realized how much our lifestyle in the Northwest of the U.S. revolves around the seasons of the year until spending so much time in a place without seasons. Cali is known as the “land of eternal spring” because it is basically between 80 – 90 degrees (26.67 to 32.22 degrees Celsius) year-round, perhaps only varying in the amount of tropical rainstorms it experiences. I find myself saying, “in the spring” or “in the winter” to refer to times when certain events will take place (like schools start in the “fall;” graduations take place in the “spring;” students have “summer” vacation), only to be received with blank stares. I’ve realized more and more that the way I think, what I eat/drink, and what I do are all affected by having seasons—a non-existent concept in these parts.
Horns: The driving here in Cali has been quite scary for me after having driven down the calm and quiet streets of Idaho and Washington, and I’m still not accustomed to it yet. However, yet even more difficult for me to handle has been the seemingly over-abundant usage of the horn. In a city of 3 million people, it becomes overwhelming when people use their horn repeatedly for everything, and once one person begins to honk, many others join in. I’ve even seen horse-drawn carts that also have horns! Sometimes, I can see the necessity of it-- like when a bus is about to pull right over on a motorcycle that is buzzing right along the side of it; the motorcyclist must let the bus know it’s there. Yet, it seems quite unnecessary when cars are stopped at something over which they have no control, like a construction site, and several of the cars/buses/taxis behind them begin honking over and over again-- as if that makes the situation any better. I guess honking can be a way of expressing one’s frustration, and the others who join in the honking are simply acknowledging that they feel the same, like a form of empathy. Perhaps it’s just another form of communication...
Violence: I hope to blog more about the violence of Colombia in a future date, but I just wanted to note here that the years of conflict and violence have created their own sets of cultural norms and expectations. Having lived my entire life in a peaceful setting, it has been hard to get used to the precautions that one must take, the guard that one must put up, and the sights that one sees in the non-touristy sites of Colombia. I know that things have drastically improved, and I’m not exactly living in a war zone, but things are certainly different. The first thing that I was taught after getting off the plane was not to “give out papaya,” which is a local way of expressing not to draw attention to myself, show-off any valuables, or be careless with my possessions. Newspapers being sold on the streets show the bloody and mangled bodies of people who’ve been tortured and killed (often related to the drug trade), and the various armed rebel groups (like the FARC, the ELN, and the paramilitares) are constant topics of conversation. My classmates (many of whom work directly in the field of violent crimes) often talk about the graphic details of deaths, and emails circulate with photos of people who’ve been killed in horrendous ways. I know that I would call 9-1-1 for anything suspicious in the United States, but I was shocked recently when we heard 4 gunshots outside of our apartment (don’t worry; it wasn’t too close!), and it didn’t even occur to me to call at all (a realization I made a few days later). (I don’t even know the emergency number here; people seem to be distrusting of authorities, and those who report anything must live in fear afterwards). One of my thirty-six-year-old classmates told me, “People of our generation have never known peace”—a statement that greatly impacted me... Yet, in spite of everything, Colombians have consistently been shown to be some of the happiest people in the world—very inspiring!

Donkey + books = biblioburro!

2008-10-23T15:35:00.000-07:00

Check this out! I found this story (as published in the New York Times) to be a refreshing view of the grassroots service action going on here in Colombia: http://www.nytimes.com/2008/10/20/world/americas/20burro.html?_r=1&em&oref=slogin . It definitely shows a more hopeful side of the country-- enjoy! =)

I promise not to leave all of the writing up to the New York Times; I hope to have some of my own reflections and discoveries posted soon...

Familiar Faces

2008-10-08T17:33:00.000-07:00

My days are always brightened by coming across someone who recognizes me as I run from place to place in my daily activities. I'm not talking about friends or classmates (although that, of course, is always nice); I'm talking about those who would have otherwise been "strangers," yet have somehow taken an interest in me. I'm talking about the men who work in the "panaderías" (bakeries) which I never seem to be able to resist as I walk to the bus stop; the woman who works in the coffee shop where I like to study; the people serving food in the university cafeteria; the man who sold me two electric adapters once and continues to greet me daily as I walk past his shop; and even this homeless man whom I see sporadically and always shouts in English (no matter what time of day), "Good morning, Teacher!" ["Good morning, Teacher!" seems to be an English phrase that everyone here knows, although very few people know its true meaning]. I think that being a foreigner (especially in Colombia) makes me seem interesting and vulnerable at the same time, and I've realized how much people have taken to me when they've made comments like, "It seemed so long since you'd been here that I was worried you had left for your country!" or "I saved you some of the fresh potato bread because I know how much you love it!" or "I didn't see you yesterday; where were you?" I feel safer walking down my usual routes knowing that these locals are looking out for me.

This is one of those "friendly faces" (although she didn't want to look directly at the camera, so you get a profile shot of her face!). I don't even know her name, but she always puts down her knitting to smile and wave at me as I walk past the spot where she sells fruits, plants, bracelets, and hats.

Internal Displacement

2008-09-29T14:48:00.000-07:00

Due to its very violent history and high prevalence of armed groups, Colombia has the highest rate of antipersonnel land mines and the second highest rate of forced displacement in the world behind the Sudan (source: Refugee International). Sadly, this number does not seem to be lessening, and ReliefWeb even claims that the country currently has the highest number of war refugees in the past 23 years.

One of the most worthwhile Rotary projects that I’ve witnessed supplies prosthetic limbs and training on how to use them for victims of antipersonnel land mines. It is certainly life-changing in many ways for the recipients, and I've been really impressed with what the Rotarians have been able to accomplish for these innocent victims of this conflict.

Another related project that I recently undertook was translating accounts of displaced women who’ve arrived here to Cali from Buenaventura. It was a little challenging because the women spoke in their own informal vernacular, but here are some of their testimonies:

INTERVIEW 1
Name: Sandra
Age: 23

“The reason that I became displaced with my three kids and nephew is that my husband was shot three times in a shooting in La Independencia. I was living in La Independencia when the shooting began. I was on my way with my son to buy some medicines for my daughter because she suffers from asthma. The shooting began in the neighborhood of La Independencia, and by chance, some shrapnel hit me... They killed a boy, and by chance, my son left running and hit his forehead really hard on the ground, and the shrapnel got me, and I knew because I felt the heat... I want the community or some group to collaborate with me because we are displaced; some days we have absolutely nothing, we are passing a lot of time without work... My cousin is the one who helps me, but she is not working now because she had an accident; now we are going through a very difficult situation; I am going hungry...I want to work, but now nobody has given me work because of the problem that I have in my leg; I want to continue studying and begin to work...

INTERVIEW 2:
Name: María
Age: 55

“I lived in Buenaventura in the neighborhood of Unión de Vivienda; I lived with my son. My son was formerly of a group [the Colombian government has a program to get young men reintegrated back into normal life if they vow to leave their past in armed groups behind], so the “paras” [paramilitaries] of the other group attacked us; they shot at us, then they destroyed my house; my son belonged to the FARC, but he was demobilized by the government and wanted to start a new life, but they were after him... I got myself out of there, and he left, too... My son was 32-years-old; they killed him here December 2nd in Cali in the neighborhood of El Refugio [by the way, that’s MY neighborhood!!] , and since then, I am fleeing from one place to another to another; I live in a shelter now... They call me to the telephone, saying: “Watch out, if you accuse us of killing your son, we will kill you.” I am threatened; I spend all my time shut up; I don’t go out into the street; my neighbors give me food; sometimes, they take my clothes to iron because if I leave with the clothes, I’m surely going to get killed. For seven months, I have been threatened; they call me, saying they’ll give it to me; whenever they see me, they’re going to get me. And where there are people that know me, they tell them, “Tell that lady to take care because we’re going to kill her. Until we have gotten rid of all of them, we can’t be at ease,” and I don’t even know what group it is...”

INTERVIEW 3:
Name: Yamileth
Age: 34

“They killed my husband. I lived in Buenaventura; I lived with my husband and my three children in Bellavista, then soon after they killed him, they continued after me... I got out of there; I left the house because they chased me, it was just unbearable there...I worked in Buenaventura selling “chontaduro” [a chestnut-like fruit]; I left my work to come here...I don’t leave the house now because it scares me that they call to threaten me; I had to change my telephone number; in the race to get away, my phone fell, but they call me where I’m at now...Now they aren’t shooting people in the street like they used to do all the time; now, they are making people disappear and taking them to whatever beach is nearby. They ask you what you know, and sometimes what you know is nothing, and so they keep asking you things that you don’t know how to respond to, and if you respond in any way, the person kills you because you’ve thought of something like that...”

INTERVIEW 4
Name: María
Age: 41

“We lived in Buenaventura: me, my husband, three children, and mother-n-law. My husband worked in a launch boat; he was the owner of this little boat that loaded passengers for coastal trips…. The FARC began to chase him, or at least that’s the story I got about who they were, and the story went that they already waited for him there. In his business where he worked, they stalked him; he could not come out to the business any more; we just left it alone. They came to look for him in the house; they called his cell phone and told him that they already knew him, and people said that strange people were around, and they came and knocked on the door of the house. Because of all that, we left and came out there. We lived in La Independencia, near where they threw a bomb that shattered all the glass in our house; we were not super-close, but it was able to break all the glass in the house and everything, and already the kids could not sleep peacefully... For that reason, we moved and now we are in this neighborhood here... We arrived that day to the place of one of my brothers, but we were so many people in one house—him with his family and those daughters and me with my family. We arrived to the neighborhood of Manuela Beltrán, and from there we looked for a little room and pawned everything we had, so we have been able to survive from then until now, but we don’t have anything anymore...Everything that we had there was damaged, and now we are renting a house in Manuela Beltrán; neither my husband nor I is working... This is horrible...”

INTERVIEW 5
Name: Anabel Gutiérrez
Age: 45
“A year ago, I left my homeland of Buenaventura; I left with my three oldest daughters: they were 13, 10, and 2 years-old when I left. I left from the neighborhood of Panamericano. The dad of the girls had disappeared 2.5 years ago when I was pregnant with the last one, when he left one day for a trip to Panama... I started working selling food in the neighborhood of Palo Seco. Every once in a while, the police had search warrants to search around because in Buenaventura they’ve said that the guerillas are in one neighborhood, and the paramilitaries are in another. And the neighborhood where I was supposedly had the guerilla fighters, and I put my little food shop there, and I had my friendships with people there, and I had no problem. And, even though everyone there was completely civil, one day they did a search with a search warrant, and they searched the house where I was living, and the same police told me that it was very dangerous for me and my girls to be there; that the neighborhood was a hot zone for shootings that could happen at any time. And, as the house was on the corner and made of wood, they said that a bullet could bounce over to us and could hurt me or one of my daughters, so they suggested that I look for another neighborhood. Nothing was happening to me in this neighborhood, but no one can be saved from a stray bullet, so I found a friend in the Panamericano Neighborhood who let me rent a little place. I began to sell food again...Then, day by day, my sales lessened and lessened, and soon I was only selling about 10,000 pesos [about $4.75USD] worth in a day. I was asking God with all of my heart what was wrong; the children didn’t play with my daughters anymore; no one came at all; those who came were those who came from far away and didn’t know anything. What happened is that my same friendships from the other neighborhood where I had lived before came to the new neighborhood saying that I came from a neighborhood of the guerilla, and that I was a member of the guerilla forces; they said that I was a spy, that I was an informant. They said I had an alarm that I could set to make a bomb explode, so the people became afraid and didn’t get close to me. The few people who bought were those who had not realized this yet, and thank God, they didn’t see a man in the house, and nothing happened to me...

There was a festival in Cali, and so I left in one of the small buses with my three daughters, and I came here. I left with the bag of my daughter; I just put in an outfit for each one of us. This was on the 28^th of September, 2007—a Saturday, the day that we came here. At one in the morning, the pastor was sending me back to Buenaventura with everyone else, and I told her, “No, pastor. Please don’t send me back there because I’ll have to sleep on the docks. I’m not going to Buenaventura. Everything of mine is damaged in Buenaventura...”... And that’s when here in Cali I learned what hunger and humiliation are. When they hear my age, they deny me work. I am 45-years-old; I have three daughters who look like they’re my granddaughters. My suffering has caused me to age prematurely; my stress has damaged all the fillings in my teeth; because I was skinny, I’m lacking calcium…. I am doing a Project that SEDECUR, an entity that performs social action, is arranging for me. They give us a little training so that we can start a little business, so that we women can get started. Meanwhile, we have to be paying for our bus rides; they don’t give us money for transportation or food or anything; you just have to put up with it, as there’s not anything else to choose from. My daughters can’t pay the 5,000 pesos [about $2.41USD] for school supplies for each one, and for not having this 10,000pesos [about $4.81USD] to pay the school supplies for the two of them, they won’t accept the girls in the school...

It has been hard in Cali because I didn’t know anything about living in a city. I didn’t know how to catch a ride; I didn’t know how to catch a bus; I didn’t know anything, and they had to pick me up and bring me home. During the first few days, they help you, but then after a week, you become a nuisance… They have trained me in fast food preparation, and through the SENA, the Carvajal Foundation, and the Bienestar Familiar [Institute of Family Well-Being], they have the girls in a home…What the Bienestar Familiar [Institute of Family Well-Being] told me was that, if things continued as they were, I could give up the three-year-old, but I didn’t come to give away my daughters. The problem is the house; I don’t have money to pay for rent—because you can’t just go to live anywhere with three girls. Asking God for permission, I hope to find a place to live for me and my girls…”

Although I am far-removed from a lot of the violence and suffering, reminders like these regularly keep me aware of the many problems found in this country.

This little piggy went to the market.

2008-09-15T11:57:00.000-07:00

Most of the time, I purchase my weekly groceries in the "normal" setting that I grew to know and love in the USA: the supermarket. Although this familiar environment is somewhat different here in Colombia (i.e.: there are women who represent specific products around every corner, and I often wish they'd leave me alone!), I still enjoy the feeling of pushing my cart around, selecting what I want to eat for the next several days, and purchasing my goods in the orderly lines at the cash registers in the front of the store. It feels just like home.

HOWEVER, once in a great while, I venture to another much more exciting and chaotic setting to acquire my food: the markets, otherwise known as the "galerías." This has proved to be a much cheaper, yet much more over-stimulating, environment to acquire my items of essential nourishment. I think it is certainly something to be experienced by everyone... yet it's not something I can handle experiencing on a weekly basis!! Please let me take you on this virtual tour through Cali's galerías. :)

The galerías themselves technically consist of an indoor maze of stands selling anything imaginable, yet the cost of renting a stall causes many vendors to create their own spots outside the actual galerías. The streets are full of people selling all sorts of meats, fruits, vegetables, loofahs, cleaning supplies, and used clothing. From kilometers away, one can see the hoards of people and smell... well, the scent that you might imagine a place with so many people and food products together would have. People carrying large bags on their shoulders or heads dash in and out of traffic as they make their way home, content after a productive day of shopping.

Once one enters into the labyrinth, one is greeted by all sorts of yelling. I am usually greeted by people yelling, "Mona! Mona!"-- which is the term Colombians use for lighter-haired or lighter-skinned females. "Mona, look at what I have for you! Mona, come see my beautiful fruits! Mona, mona, mona...!" People promote their products by shouting about what a great deal they are and repeating their prices over and over and over again. Children (like the little girl in the center of the next photo) are particularly good at this. One must push through all of the people to get to what one wants. Personal space does not exist. (Some, however, do not seem to be bothered by the hustle and bustle that surrounds them. I took the following picture of this small boy who had climbed into one of the food bins and was happily playing by himself within it. I liked the image because he looked like he was for sale =) ).There are sooooo many types of tropical fruits on display throughout the market, like the plantain-- which is a staple food of the diet here.There are also many types of caged animals for sale-- including chickens, ducks, goats, etc. One can buy a live animal for 5,000 pesos (about $3USD), and then, right next door,.................. ..............one can get his/her new animal killed, plucked, and roasted in a fire (to seal the pores) for only 1,ooo pesos (about $0.60USD)!! Such convenience.
I always attempt to try at least one new product. Last week's selection was this tasty fruit called the "chirimoya."

Thus, the galerías have provided me with much excitement, fun and cheap purchases, and interesting observations-- although this "mona" usually requires a bit of recovery time after each galerías experience. =)

Sleep patterns = Abnormal

2008-09-14T15:10:00.000-07:00

I have really felt like I've missed out on all of the excitement lately. In addition to sleeping through the bomb of two weeks ago, I slept through an earthquake in the wee hours of Saturday morning. Although it wasn't exactly catastrophic (measured 5.2 and, thank goodness, left no victims), I definitely felt left out as I listened to tales of thoughts, reactions, and experiences of those who felt it all day long on Saturday. I was the only one who had nothing to contribute to earthquake-related conversations. :(

These sleeping patterns have me perplexed: Why is it that I can sleep soundly through a bomb and an earthquake, yet I've spent many sleepless hours due to insignificant, unexciting noises? For instance, I have had a few nights during which I've been terrorized by the "zzzzzzing" of a mosquito, and the meowing of the cute little kitten featured below (whom we found residing in a gap in the wall outside my room) kept we awake for several hours for three nights in a row. Perhaps I have a special sleeping defense mechanism that allows me to block out anything that could potentially be scary??? Maybe I should not complain... ;)

No aneurysm = :-)!!

2008-09-14T14:04:00.000-07:00

I am very happy to report that I was able to pick up all of the results from my tests of last week, and I have absolutely no sign of an aortic aneurysm-- hooray! Although no medical expert has explained anything to me yet, it looks as though my "pulsating mass" may have been caused by a curvature of the spine that pushes the aorta forward. I suppose that no one likes to hear that her back isn't straight, but this news pleased me very much.

Here I am proudly displaying my fully functional blood delivery system. Note my huge sense of relief!

One benefit of this whole ordeal is that it has allowed me to get to know myself much better, from the inside out. I was given a package that contained several print-outs of blood tests, many of those see-through black and white photographs of my innards (perhaps I'll hang them on our apartment walls???), and a CD containing almost 1,000 photos of my internal organs.

This allowed Carlos, Olivia, Carmen, and I to take a journey through my mid-section parts. We realized that not one of us has a good anatomy background ("Are those your ovaries?" "No, I think they're her kidneys!"), but we really enjoyed the beautiful pictures of "what lies beneath" my outer features. There were tons and tons of neat pictures, like these ones:

Check out my perfectly healthy and normal aorta! :)

I'm not exactly sure how the medical system works here, but I believe (or at least I hope) that I will be speaking with my doctor at some point this week. This will allow me to properly interpret and appreciate the information about myself that I was given (if not, Carlos' mom has offered to explain it all to me). But, until then, I'm just resting assured that everything in my body is functioning properly, and no more visits to Colombian medical clinics will be necessary in the near future. =)

Firsthand Experience with Colombian Healthcare

2008-09-11T10:17:00.000-07:00

I started off this week with some of the typical "stomach problems" that one often experiences while in another country and soon found myself in the office of a cardiologist. Here is the story:

I feel like I've been fairly fortunate with avoiding those horrible stomach reactions that can plague some travelers (like my dad); I have only had one major episode of "Moctezuma's revenge." However, during the past few weeks, I have had some unpleasant digestion problems-- although nothing too bad. Carlos' mom is a doctor and kindly agreed to check it out for me.

As she poked, pushed, and prodded on my stomach while I lay down on her bed, she came to the conclusion that I simply needed to eat better, and she prescribed me a diet of papaya (the ONLY fruit I do not enjoy) and saltine crackers.

HOWEVER......... she found something that sent her some red flags: a strong pulsation coming from the upper part of my abdomen-- near the Aorta. Pretty soon, news of my oh-so-strong pulsating Aorta spread, and others were all putting their hand above my stomach-- agreeing that my pulse was far heavier than normal. She asked if I had ever had any sort of evaluation of my heart or blood system (which I had not), so she recommended that I see a cardiologist.

Therefore, on Tuesday, I found myself in the office of Doctor Ramiro Gonzalez, who thoroughly interrogated me about my complete medical history and performed an extensive exam. I was very healthy.... except for one thing: a "masa pulsatil" (pulsating mass) above my stomach. The detailed printout came to the conclusion that I could possibly have an "aneurisma de aorta abdominal."

An Abdominal Aortic Aneurysm????? Yikes! That sounded pretty serious. That couldn't be me. I read all about it Online as soon as I left the hospital and discovered that I have none of the risk factors. However, Doctor Gonzalez recommended that I return to the DIME clinic for extensive blood exams and an abdominal CAT-Scan on Wednesday.

So, there I was once again early on Wednesday morning-- following my new cardiologist's orders. I got all of the tests that he recommended done (fun, fun, fun!) and am currently waiting for the results. I am sure that I will be fine (hey-- maybe my little Aorta is just a very diligent and dedicated worker!!), but it has been a very crazy process.

I can now completely empathize with those who must enter the medical system in another country. I mean, I am sure that Colombian doctors are good and have all of the right equipment, but it definitely isn't the same as being treated in my own country. Carlos and his dad have been great at taking me to my appointments and helping me figure out where to go and what to do... BUT... If I do have something major wrong with me (which I do not think is the case), wouldn't it be nice to be surrounded by my long-time friends and family?

It is also surreal to have everything transpire in another language. I have understood pretty much everything, but there are times when I've been a little slow. For instance, as the doctor was telling me that I needed a TAC (pronounced like "talk"), it took FOREVER to figure out that it was a CAT-Scan.

I remember one particular moment when I was in my little medical gown, with an I.V. in my arm (which sends a liquid throughout your body that makes you want to pee, by the way), laying with my arms above my head, inside a cave-like machine that was telling me, "Tome aire, sosténgalo, exhala, resuma respiración normal", that it hit me: "Holy cow! I'm in a hospital in COLOMBIA!"

I hope that this will be my last visit to the DIME Medical Center, and I vow to keep you posted as to what they discover about my body.

Teaching English: Trials and Tribulations

2008-09-11T09:03:00.000-07:00

I have really enjoyed all of the international volunteer work that I’ve been able to do over the past several years, but I think that my teaching of English classes here is one of the most difficult forms of service I’ve ever done. As opposed to the time I spent in Casa del Sol (Mexico) and Casa de María (Honduras), where I just played with kids, changed diapers, held babies, etc., I’m actually expected to teach my students something. This means I have to plan my lessons, and keep them on task, and troubleshoot if an activity doesn’t go as planned, and repeat myself lots and lots, and analyze all of the basic rules of why we say things in English the way we do, and make sure that the girls are actually learning.

This is all complicated by the fact that I’m teaching in a “home,” instead of a school. The girls come to my classes in their free time (and it is my free time, too—might I add), and I am not given any sort of supplies or support. It is all up to me. I suppose it could be valuable to have this sort of freedom, but I often wish that I had workbooks, or dictionaries, or worksheets, or an overhead projector (or just a projector), or even those “listening activity” audio tapes. Furthermore, the girls have been taken away from whatever home-life they previously had because it was deemed “unlivable,” so they sometimes lack the basic skills and instruction that children from “unchallenging” situations may have received. And, finally, I have no training in teaching English as a second language. Therefore, I just do the best that I can with what I’ve got!

This has meant lots of innovation and investment on my part. I purchased notebooks and pencils for each of my students, and I often find that bringing in little treats can create lots of unforeseen inspiration. :) I do have one little blackboard and chalk, which I certainly use to the max.

Here are some videos my (taken several months ago) of my English prodigies:

"Hello. My name is Luisa. I am happy. My house is in San Antonio, and I am from Colombia. Good-bye!"

"Hello. My name is Jennifer. I am from Colombia. I am fifteen-years-old. Good-bye!"

"Hello. My name is Nygeli Daniela Velasco Rodriguez. I am happy. How are you? I hope you are well. Bye-bye!"

"Good afternoon. My name is Marta. My house is in San Antonio. I am happy and intelligent. I have been here for five years. I have studied in the school Nuestra Señora de Pilar. Good-bye!"

I recently started a new class of the younger girls-- due to popular demand. The Director of Hogares María Gorretti had originally told me to only teach the older ones, but the younger girls felt very left out. They often tried to sneak into my classes, and some even cried when they were told that they were not allowed to participate. Perhaps they were solely motivated by the treats and brand-new supplies that their older counterparts were receiving, but I increased my “supply” to meet this “demand.” There are two girls (both of whom are eight-years-old) who have never learned to read or write. I still try to have them copy the letters that they can, and I teach this class almost entirely with games and songs.

Here are some of my students on day one, proudly displaying our “Hello. My name is” cards:

As draining as my classes may be, I really do enjoy them. I also feel like I have become a positive presence in these girls’ lives, which makes the time very worthwhile.

Yesterday, I was teaching them the concept of “to have,” which I was combining with the vocabulary of family members that I had recently taught and the usage of numbers (see above blackboard picture for more information). One student borrowed my dictionary before writing the following sentence on the board: “Miss Hilary has eight boyfriends.” I told her it was a very good sentence indeed. ;-)

La gringa goes to aerobics.

2008-09-11T08:51:00.000-07:00

This semester, I became inspired to partake in multiple weekly group exercise classes/teams—including yoga, spinning, swim team (very humbling!), pilates, and “futbol” (soccer, although I am rarely able to attend the practices). Each activity has provided me with its own humorous, insightful, embarrassing, and memorable moments. However, I’d like to dedicate this entry to a class that I took for the first time today: kick boxing aerobics.

For once, I was able to get up on time to attend my gym’s Wednesday morning kick boxing program, although I was running just a little bit late. The participants of the class (who were all women) were already hopping and bopping about when I arrived, and I attempted to jump right in and blend in with those in the back. This, however, was easier said then done-- as I was about a foot taller than any of my classmates, and my skin was about 10 shades lighter. Furthermore, instead of the brightly-colored, fashionable matching spandex outfits that they wore, I was wearing large mens’ basketball shorts and a baggy t-shirt.

A lot of Colombian women wear trendy outfits like these at the gym.

The instructor noted these differences right away and was soon paying lots of extra attention to me, which is exactly what I had not wanted. He was quickly right in my face, asking me in English, “What is your name? Where are you from? You like Colombia?” as I tried to stay with the rest of the group and keep from accidentally punching him in the face or kicking him somewhere unpleasant. It was quite awkward, and I wasn’t sure if I should stop a moment to converse with him, but I continued with the work-out while throwing in short responses to his questions periodically. He also decided that he needed him to show me each new step or move individually.

Whenever the teacher returned to the front of the class, he incorporated as many English words as he could into his instructions: “Up, down... Strong... Four, three, two, one... Drink water!” The other ladies shouted at him (in Spanish), “Why are you speaking English? Are you crazy? We’re in Colombia!” I felt that maybe they resented me because it was my fault their aerobics instructor suddenly felt the need to show off every English word he knew. I attempted to be friendly and agreeable and focus on my kickboxing aerobics skills, yet I was tempted to run away from the group and get my exercise for the day on an elliptical machine— alone.

I share this story because things like this happen to me all the time. I certainly don’t mind that people want to practice their English, and I am glad to help them out. But I can speak Spanish. And I do not enjoy being set apart from everyone else or treated as though I am in need of lots of extra help. Colombia may have some very confusing things that do require me to get assistance from a local (and I really do value everyone who has helped me out), but I think I’m capable of handling simple tasks like air punches and leg stretches by myself, right? :)

Yikes!

2008-09-01T13:57:00.000-07:00

The U.S. Embassy sent me the following little note on August 22nd:

This Warden Message is to alert American citizens traveling to or residing in Colombia of increased terrorist activity. Several bombings of public facilities and increased seizures of explosive materials have necessitated a review of security procedures for U.S. Embassy personnel. On August 9, a bomb was detonated in north Bogota resulting in the injury of eight persons, including one American citizen. On August 16, several small explosions occurred in large grocery stores frequented by foreigners. The Embassy has noted a significant increase in security incidents in the Tolima Department, which demonstrate the capacity of the Revolutionary Armed Forces of Colombia (FARC) to conduct attacks. Due to the recent security incidents, the Embassy prohibits personal travel by Embassy personnel to Tolima Department. The Embassy urges all Americans to avoid travel to Tolima until further notice...etc....

Being the great rule-follower and U.S. citizen that I am, I vowed to stay out of the department of Tolima. However, this violence came a little closer to home recently.

Last night, I was sleeping soundly in my apartment at about midnight when a large "bang!" erupted in the city of Cali, waking everyone from their slumber. I reacted with my normal speed, quick-thinking, and agility-- by continuing to sleep soundly right through the whole thing! I was completely oblivious to the event that was ensuing until I was awakened at 1:00am by various friends and neighbors who had discovered the source of this loud, rude noise: a car bomb in the center of the Palacio de Justicia. We have since learned that officials are blaming the FARC, and that the explosion killed four and left 26 injured.

Just in case you have heard about the occurrence (which I doubt you have), I just wanted to let you know that I am absolutely fine and was not directly affected by this act of terrorism in the slightest. In fact, unlike most of my neighbors, I got a full night's sleep. :)

More Photos of Our Trip!

2008-09-01T13:18:00.001-07:00

Family Visit: Whirlwind Travels

2008-08-29T16:52:00.000-07:00

North America sent three more "ambassadors" my way when my mother, Aunt Cheryl, and Auntie Kathleen journeyed southward to bless me with yet more memorable and enriching travel experiences. Cheryl had worked tightly with PanAmerican Travel Services to create the following jam-packed itinerary (which we added to, of course!):

Day 1: Tuesday, July 15- United States to Bogota, Colombia

· Arrival in Bogota. Please provide international flight information
· Upon arrival, private transfer to Hotel Bogota Plaza for 4 nights’ accommodations (2 double rooms)

Day 2: Wednesday, July 16- Bogota Historical Tour

· Private city tour of Bogota (duration: approx 4 hours)

· Bogota was originally called Bacatá by the Muiscas and it was the center of civilization with a large population before the Spanish colonized the region.

· The tour takes you through Bogota’s historical sector. Visits to the Colon Theater, Palacio de San Carlos, San Ignacio Church, the Presidential Palace of Nariño, and Bolivar’s Plaza, the Golden Museum and Monserrate. Tour takes you back to the hotel.

Day 3: Thursday, July 17- Zipaquirá & Guatavita

· Tour to Zipaquirá & Guatavita (duration: 8 hours approx)

· You will drive through the Calera to enjoy the amazing views. The excursion includes an ecological walk to admire one of the most sacred lakes of pre-Columbian cultures. At the lake, the legendary ritual El Dorado was performed.

· Lunch in Zipaquirá (not included)

· Visit the Salt Cathedral, an underground Church built in a tunnel of salt mines

· Return to Hotel Bogota Plaza

Day 4: Friday, July 18- Villa de Leyva

· Today you will enjoy a full day private tour to Villa de Leyva (duration: approx 12 hours)

· Villa de Leyva is a colonial town situated about 25 mi to the west of Tunja in the Boayaca Department. Enjoy a walk around the main square and cobblestone streets.

· On the way visit the Boyacá Bridge, Tunja and finally Villa de Leyva; where you will visit the Museum of Paleontology. You will also visit the house of Master Acuña and El Infiernito or Little Hell (an astronomy observatory). The tour takes you back to Bogota.

Day 5: Saturday, July 19- Bogota –Cartagena

Private scheduled transfer to the airport to board flight to Cartagena
Flight: AV 9542 departs BOG at 8:47Am and arrives at 10:07AM
Airport reception and private transfer to Bovedas de Santa Clara for four nights’ accommodations (2 double rooms)
Day at leisure. Cartagena, located along the Caribbean Sea, is a UNESCO World Heritage Site recognized for its picturesque shorelines, boutique shopping districts, and military architecture as originally built by the Spanish during the fifteenth and sixteenth centuries.
Overnight at hotel

Day 6: Sunday, July- 20 Cartagena

Breakfast at the hotel
Today, we invite you on a private tour through the historic city of Cartagena. Visit the local residential sector, the great San Felipe Castle and La Popa Convent. Your personal guide will share historical accounts of the city.
Afternoon at leisure for sightseeing, shopping, or even a relaxing swim in the turquoise sea.

Day 7: Monday, July 21- Cartagena

Breakfast at the hotel
Full Day tour to Isla de las Mujeres
Enjoy many services in the Caribbean Sea and a small tour around the island

Day 8: Tuesday, July 22- Cartagena

Breakfast at the hotel
Day at leisure
Overnight at hotel

Day 9: Wednesday, July 23- Cartagena - Medellin

Breakfast at hotel
Scheduled private transfer to airport to board flight to Medellin
Board flight: AV 9761 departs at 7:45AM and arrives at 9:10AM
Upon arrival, private transfer to the Intercontinental Medellin Hotel (2 double rooms)

Day 10: Thursday July 24- Medellin

Breakfast at the hotel and morning at leisure
Afternoon private city tour of Medellin including Antioquia’s Museum
Night accommodations at the Intercontinental Medellin Hotel

Day 11: Friday, July 25- Santa Fe de Antioquia

Today your guide will meet you for a tour to Antioquia, located approximately 50 miles north of Medellin. Santa Fe de Antioquia: keeps alive the history of a colonial past with its cobbled stone streets and Spanish style architecture in its buildings. Churches are one of its attractions along with its museums that hold the history of this town. The western bridge is another attraction. Built in wood, it is one of the most important works of Colombia’s engineering history.
Night accommodations at the Intercontinental Medellin Hotel

Day 12: Saturday July 26- Medellin –Cali

Scheduled private transfer to the airport to board flight to Cali
Suggested flight: AV 43 departs at 12:20Pm and arrives at 1:00Pm
Upon arrival, private transfer to Hotel Radisson Royal for 5 nights’ accommodations (2 double rooms)

Day 13: Sunday July 27- Popayán

Breakfast at the hotel
Today you will depart for a tour to Popayan
Popayán is known as “the white city”, due to the color of the buildings in the historical part of town. In colonial times, Popayán was an important centre, where commerce, religion and political power where concentrated. Many of the constructions from the early days have been well conserved, such as churches, monasteries, theatres and many public buildings.
Night accommodations at the Hotel Radisson Royal

Day 14: Monday, July 28- Cali

Breakfast
Today you will have private transportation at disposal for 6 hours within the city
Night accommodations at the Hotel Radisson Royal

Day 15: Tuesday, July 29- Cali

Breakfast
Today you will have private transportation at disposal for 6 hours within the city
Night accommodations at the Hotel Radisson Royal

Day 16: Wednesday, July 30- Cali

Breakfast
Day at leisure
Night accommodations at the Hotel Radisson Royal

Day 17: Thursday, July 31- Cali -Bogota

Breakfast and hotel check out
Scheduled private transfer for 3 to the airport to board flight back to Bogota
Suggested flight: AV 8416 departs at 11:25Am and arrives at 12:30Pm
Upon arrival, private transfer to Hotel Bogota Plaza (1 double room and 1 single room)

Day 18: Friday, August 1- Bogota -USA

Breakfast
Scheduled private transfer to the airport to fly home

We had a wonderful time as discovered many of the jewels that Colombia has to offer-- all the while learning a great deal about the country's historical, artistic, and cultural highlights; sharing poignant moments with new friends; eating amazing and fresh food; laughing lots; taking in the diverse landscapes (from tall green mountains to calm turquoise seas); visiting cities and towns of ALL sizes; and discovering that (although it certainly has its fair share of problems) Colombia is much more than it is often depicted to the outside world.

We'd like to share some of our reflections and photos with you in this blog entry.

(Please note: To see more of the pictures we took, please watch the slideshow above or click here: 100 of our favorite photos. Please forgive me for accidentally downloading each photo twice!).

Reflection #1: Kathleen (my auntie)

“Is it your first trip to Colombia?” “Are you having a good time?” “How do you like Colombia?” Eager questions like these are voiced from beaming Colombians who love their country dearly. Progress is being made. The drug industry is nearly under control and the economy is being boosted by floral agriculture. Did you know that 90% of all cut roses and carnations sold in the United States come from Colombia?

Colombia also boasts the best emeralds in the world and beautiful, pre-Colombian treasures of gold. Their famous coffee is shade grown and roasted wonderfully. (Try a small cup of tinto—not as bitter as espresso; needs no sugar although dark roasted. Nothing like a late afternoon cup of tinto with friends.) And their chocolate is also renown and totally delicious.

These are a few of the wonderful surprises that await you in Colombia. So many images stay with you: artwork of Botero; gold mastery of the indigenous people; towering Andes with no snow caps as they are close to the Equator—so the vivid green and farmers’ fields climb up the mountain sides; the Caribbean gem of an ocean sparkles turquoise; historic colonial towns glow with white stucco and red slate roofs; Medellin, a city of 3,000,000, is built entirely with red brick buildings that nestle nicely into the vivid greens of landscape dotted with cable cars; capital city of Bogota towers 9,000 feet high, a cultural center for 8,000,000 people; Cartagena is a Caribbean city of pure charm and Spanish history; and Cali lies in a vast valley in the Andes with 3,000,000 dancing to make it the Rhumba capitol of Colombia. Europeans have been coming to Colombia for several years and now we and others from the U.S. are discovering Colombia. What a treasure!

Reflection #2: Cheryl (my aunt)

Each day that we spent in Colombia offered us a new surprise. How did we know when we planned our trip that these northern Andes would be so high and yet so green; that the best way to start out the day is with a “tinto,” a cup of Colombian coffee, shade-grown, hand-picked, black and rich (Juan Valdez is right); that so many people would reach out hands and hearts to welcome these American women who amazed them a bit because we were gutsy enough to come for a visit?

This country is beautiful and it is troubled. The beauty of place and people uplifts at the same time that poverty, violence and crime intimidate. I felt privileged to be in Colombia at a moment in time that felt to me like a tipping point. Will the people, marching millions strong against the violence and kidnapping that has made them live in fear for years, be able to sustain the move to take back their country from guerillas, drug cartels, paramilitary groups and a culture of violence? How will issues of unequal land distribution, income disparity, environmental destruction, and the drug industry be solved? Like problems of many countries, including our own, solutions are long-term and extremely difficult to achieve. But as we joined with thousands of Colombian people in a protest march through the streets of Cartagena on Independence Day, July 20, I felt a surge of awe. With signs, T-shirts, and shouts they proclaimed, “Yo Soy Colombia.” They are their beautiful, beloved country and they are full of hope.

Reflection #3: Hilary (Me!)

It is one thing to TELL people about Colombia-- attempting to explain the taste of lulo juice; the way my heart stops sometimes as I think an inevitable car accident on the mountain roads or chaotic city streets will soon end my life; the feeling of contentment I experience as I have a really beautiful cross-cultural exchange with a kind stranger-- or the frustration I feel when I feel I am not being valued or understood, or am being seen as just a dollar sign; the amazing sights of the streetlight performers-- who choreograph shows to entertain drivers during red lights; the abundance of breathtaking flowers in every color imaginable; the pity that one can't push away after seeing children and elderly adults of true poverty, who are obviously in great need of medical care, begging on the ground; the neat people whom I've gotten to know here in Cali; the gorgeous crafts and artwork that have been produced here since before the Spanish conquest; the true excitement I experience upon seeing something unlike anything else I've seen in my whole life; the turbulent and violent past that Colombia has experienced for many centuries, etc. But it is a completely different thing to allow them to EXPERIENCE it all for themselves. Hence, it was infinitely valuable for me to have my mom, auntie, and aunt here with me to take it all in-- formulating their own perceptions of my home of the past several months.

Furthermore, my trip with them exposed me to many parts of the country that I'd previously seen only in guidebooks. Our four private tour guides (Fernando, Nico, Marian, and Oscar) taught us a great deal about the many historical sites, museums, churches, pueblos, and natural attractions we visited-- in addition to sharing all sorts of facts and characteristics about Colombia with us along the way. We really had an incredible time, and I hope that their visit will not be the last one of family and friends while I'm here (hint, hint!) ;-).

Reflection #4: Lorel (my mama)

Like a dream, my memories of Colombia whirl in flashes of color, beauty, and kindness-- occasionally tinted with a shadow of fear. I remember the colors of Colombia – the blues of the Caribbean, the deep greens of the Andes, the bright whitewash of Colonial homes. I can still see the red and purple flowers, the orange bricks, the yellow walls. Beauty comes to me in reminiscences of cool, dark churches, sudden valley overlooks, delicately carved gold art. I often reflect, too, on the unexpected kindness of the bell captain who escorted us to a safe route, the elderly strangers who visited with us in a city park, the families who served us delicious meals and shared their jokes and stories. If a darker hue sometimes tinges my recollections – a hue shaded with fears of hurtling autos on narrow mountain roads or repeated cautions against pickpockets and muggers, I push through the cloud and dream once again of color, and beauty, and friendliness. I remember Colombia.

Colombia through the lense

2008-08-20T17:06:00.000-07:00

Tatiana, one of my classmates who works for a local newspaper, has the following blog that features many revealing shots of Colombia: http://www.tatigutierrez.blogspot.com/. Her photos are far better than any that I've taken; some of them are quite moving. Hence, I hope that you can take a peek and take in some of the scenes my blog has been lacking. :)

On that note, I now publicly vow to begin posting with more frequency from this point onward..

Issac's Reflections of our Colombian Explorations

2008-08-04T16:24:00.000-07:00

I'm back! I know that my blogging has been very limited as of late, but this lack of posting is due to the fact that I was fortunate enough to travel a great deal in June and July, seeing many new sights and learning lots about the diverse settings of Colombia. Within this time frame, I've also had 4 U.S. visitors join me as traveling companions, including the esteemed Issac Allen Andrade.

Issac kindly agreed to share a report of his adventures and insights from his Colombian experience with us, and here it is! He and I mainly concentrated our traveling efforts in the "coffee zone" of the country, which provided us with a beautiful, lush, green, mountainous backdrop. It was nice to let my two lives merge for a bit, and it was very valuable for me to discuss some of the realities of Colombia with someone of my background. I also felt validated in some of the reactions and perceptions that I've had throughout my journey here, as Issac reacted similarly to what I did upon arriving. And, most importantly, we had oodles of fun!

I've included a little slide show of photos of almost everything he references below (please note: due to some "technical difficulties" with both of our cameras, many of our beautiful photos were lost :( ), and I've also added some footage from our thrilling paragliding shenanigans. Enjoy! 80)

**Perhaps it would be best to read the reflections first, as then you would know what the photos feature.

View Photo Slideshow

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Arrival Day: Friday, June 6

My journey to Colombia started with an early morning flight from Los Angeles on June 6, 2008. I arrived in Cali via Miami at a little passed 9:30pm. After spending nearly an hour passing through Immigration and Customs, I finally was free to leave the airport. I was a bundle of nerves at the time for many reasons, some of which included being in a new country, trying to meet up with the people who were picking me up, and finally I was a short time away from seeing someone who is very dear to me for the first time in nearly 6 months. As I exited through the doors of the terminal, I met by a warm, muggy blast of air and a crowd of Colombians that whistled and hollered every time someone came through those doors. Through the crowd, I was able to see a sign with my name on it! To my relief, it was Lilliana who, with her husband, graciously offered me a ride to where I was staying on the other end of town (They were also part of the family that took Hilary in at the beginning of her stay in Cali).

As we rode in the car to my final destination of the evening, I was given an introduction to the history, geography, industries, and other odd facts about Cali from Liliana’s husband, Fernando. Even though I struggled to speak back in Spanish due to my fatigue and rust from lack of use, I was happy that I was able to understand the majority of what he was saying. I learned that Cali was located in the Valle del Cauca, which is in the southern part of the country near the sea. Along the way, everything from major shopping malls to the streets where the transvestite prostitutes congregate was pointed out to me. At long last, we arrived to the place I would be staying for the next couple of days.

As I stood there while Fernando knocked, a bunch of thoughts went through my head: Had Hilary changed? Did she look different? How was she going to react to seeing me standing at her front door after what seemed like a lifetime ago? Well, all my worries were laid to rest the minute I saw her poke her head around the door! She was the same person that I had grown to know and love during the last couple of years.

With the arrival out of the way, I settled into the apartment. It was simple place, nothing how I had imagined it would be. It white tile flooring and white walls with a large window and sliding glass door looking out to a little garden/patio/walkway. There were 3 decent sized rooms, two of which were for Hilary and Melanie, Hilary’s German roommate. The third room was a storage room and would also be where I was staying for the next couple of nights. There was also a simple bathroom with toilet, sink, and shower. In many Latin American countries, you cannot flush toilet paper down the toilet due to the old plumbing system. Also, a rarity in Colombia is hot water-- so cold showers were something that I was going to have to get used to. After an exhausting day and after the adrenaline of arriving wore off, I snuggled up for a good nights sleep!

Day 1: Saturday, June 7

The next day was relatively uneventful at its start. Hilary had class all day, so I relaxed at the apartment watching some soccer, chatted with Melanie, and took my first cold shower! That afternoon, Hilary had come back to the apartment for some things and then headed back to the campus. I decided to join her so I could see where she had been taking classes. It was a very secure campus, with all brick buildings and many trees, mainly palm trees dotting the campus. While I was sitting there finishing my book, a thunderstorm rolled in and a downpour started. I heard that these were a common occurrence, but it was still impressive to me.

In the evening, there was to be a party at the apartment to say good-bye to Melanie since the next day she was headed back to Germany. Hilary and Melanie had spent many hours the previous few days cooking like crazy for this fiesta! There were lentils, toasted bread with a nice spread on it, a turnover with meaty filling called calzones, chips, popcorn, pasta salad, and drinks! It was lot of fun! About 15 people, mainly Colombians with an Austrian and us two Americans, thrown into the mix. We even had a small talent show where there was singing, dancing and even a jump roping demonstration (I’ll give you two guesses as to who did that last one!!). As the evening grew later, we all headed off to a salsa dancing club that was supposedly one of the better ones in town. Cali is known for excellent salsa dancing. The people there were amazing! The way they swivel their hips and move to the beat is very hypnotic in a way. I attempted to get out there and try some moves that I had picked up but unfortunately I still have a long way to go in perfect my salsa skills! I had a great time nonetheless and ended the evening exhausted and ready for bed!

Day 2: Sunday, June 8

Today, we were invited to go to a finca up in the mountains by Liliana and Fernando. Before heading up, there we wanted to get our bus tickets for the next day’s journey to Manizales. It was also at the bus station that we agreed to meet Liliana, who would give us a ride up to the finca. On our way to the bus terminal, we accidentally took a bus that took us a very long to get to where we wanted to go. It wound around the streets of Cali and at times it seemed as though we were making circles. Needless to say, that put us behind schedule. However, on a positive note, it allowed me to see many of Cali’s neighborhoods. We made it to the bus station, and we we hurried at great speed so we could get the tickets and meet our ride. While we were climbing the stairs, I was stopped by a policeman. Hilary had walked off ahead without realizing that I had been stopped. They asked me for my papers and since I had left my passport at the apartment, all I had to pull out was my license. I showed it to them and tried to explain that that was my driver’s license and that I was from the U.S., and I was just visiting. I felt helpless because they just kept asking me for my papers. At the beginning, they were asking me for my papers using the word “papeles” but then they started asking for my “cédula.” At first, I wasn’t sure if I had heard them right, and I asked them to repeat it a few times. Finally, I came to the conclusion that they were asking for my “cellular” phone. I told them I didn’t have it, and they asked me “You don’t have it?” and I said no. At that time, a plain clothed police officer came up and looked at me and took my license from the other guy and looked at it, then gave it back to me and said that I could go. At this time, Hilary had just realized that I was not behind her and had stopped. When I made it to her, I was slightly annoyed due to the fact that she kind of left me behind in a country that I was unfamiliar with. There was also the issue of trying to find a bus company that would take us to Manizales. Many bus companies had stopped going there because of mudslides that had blocked the road. We then found a bus company, bought tickets, and made our way to the meeting place to be picked up.

We were on our way to a finca in the surrounding green Andes Mountains with Liliana and her daughter. It was a nice drive up from the warm valley floor up into the cool, fresh air of the mountains. When we got there, we met Lilana's and Fernando's parents. One of the fathers asked if I was just up there a few weeks earlier because I looked familiar. The group then had a discussion about how I looked Colombian. This would not be the first time that someone mentioned that while I was there. I also experienced my second downpour that equatorial areas are known for. We had an excellent meal that consisted of fried plantains, beans, rice, and shredded beef (a very typical platter). Afterwards, we went on a walk around the village, Pavas. While we were on our walk, Liliana’s step-father bought some fruit in order for us to taste it. There were all sorts of exotic varieties (like granadilla, lulo, curuba, maracuyá, and pitaya), and they were very tasty! After a nice afternoon, we headed back down to Cali to start getting ready for the start of our adventures!

I was not very impressed with Cali. I feel that I got a good sampling of the city, especially after taking that little bus that took us around and around for almost two hours to get to the bus station. I feel that Cali had seen better days, which I later learned was indeed the case. Even as early as 5 years ago, the drug cartels were major players in the running of the city. From what I have been told, they pumped a good amount of money into the economy there, and it was a decent city. When the government decided to crack down and clean up the country, with the cartels gone, there was not as much money coming into the city, thus projects were left incomplete and the city started going downhill. It just didn't appeal to me much. The colors seemed just a bit duller then other cities, and the people didn't seem as friendly. It was also very chaotic and had a lot of poverty. As this was my first impression of Colombia. I thought that maybe the rest of the country was going to be like this, which was not the case. That night, we prepared for our upcoming travels.

Day 3: Monday, June 9

We started the day by putting the finishing touches on our packing and cleaned up from the previous night’s festivities. We made it to the bus station in time to take an 11am bus to Manizales. It is a 5-hour bus ride through the winding roads of the Andes Mountains, located in what is called the “coffee zone” of the country, as the majority of Colombia’s famous coffee is grown in this region. Manizales is located in Caldas deparment of central Colombia and has a population of approx. 415,000. We got there mid-afternoon and tried to find our hotel. It was supposedly right next to the bus station, but we couldn't see it for some reason, so we got in a taxi. Well we drove around in a circle and we ended up right were we started. The place was right across the street from our starting location. When we checked in, they told us about an all-day excursion that took us up into Los Nevados National Park as well as into some hot springs. This sounded perfect because that is one of the big reasons we came to Manizales. So signed up and were excited about the great experience we were sure to have.

We went to dinner that evening at a Chinese restaurant that was not like the Chinese food from back home. It was ok food, but the interesting part of the dinner was towards the end. A beggar entered the restaurant, came to our table, and asked us to give her some food. It was a very awkward situation because we were still eating and someone that works there was yelling at her to get out, and she was yelling back that she was talking to us when in fact we hadn't said anything to her yet. We ended up giving her our left overs, and away she went. Even though she was less fortunate, it still bothered me that she came up to our table while we were eating. I understand that in that situation you must do whatever you need to do to survive, but it still did not sit well with me. I lost my appetite. We spent the last bit of the evening relaxing and prepared for an early wake up the next day.

Day 4: Tuesday, June 10

Our day started bright and early! We were up and waiting in the lobby for our driver to come pick us up and take us up to the Parque National de los Nevados in the high Andes Mountains. Our first stop after our driver came was to pick up two more people for our journey up the mountain. Two new people were a brother and sister from France who were traveling around Colombia as well. We were now set and on our way! Well, we thought we were on our way, but about 30 mins into to journey we ran into a roadblock. The police had shut down the highway due to mudslides farther up the road. As we discovered later, mudslides were very common in this part of Colombia; we saw tons of them throughout our travels. We waited for about 1/2 hour before the policeman let us through. The road winded through the lush green hills, gaining elevation gradually.

The first place we stopped along the way was this little building on the side of the road. This is where we had a nice typical breakfast of tea, egg, cheese and arepa. It was simple but very filling and tasty! Then we were on our way back up the mountain. We started to see lush green valleys and impressive mountains. all the while it was getting cooler as we climbed higher. Our next stop before we got to the park was at a little stand next to a lake named Laguna Negra. It was here were we had a tasty tea made of coca leaves. You are supposed to drink this when you are going up to high elevations because it opens your blood vessels and allows more blood to flow. There were also many military guys there, and they were on their down the mountain after some exercises that they had been conducting for the past few weeks. We were off again to the mountain top!

Our next stop was the park gates at a place called Las Brisas (4050m/13,287ft) , where it was VERY COLD! It was near freezing when we arrived. It was here that we received a presentation about the park and what to expect on our trip the rest of the way. Once that was done, we got back into the truck, this time accompanied by a park guide. Along the way, he pointed out interesting trees named Frailejón. They are very odd shaped tree that is indigenous to only Colombia, Venezuela, and Ecuador. Our next stop was at the Chalet Arenales (4150m/13,615ft), which is a big red barn looking structure that also had a camp ground. It was here that I started feeling the effects of the altitudes that we were at. The clouds parted for brief moments-- opening up to impressive views of cliffs and the surrounding peaks terrain. The terrain at this point was very desert like. It was almost like we were on the moon.

After our stop, we started motoring back up the mountain going back and forth on the switch backs till we go to El Refugio de Ruiz (4800m/15,748ft), which was this little shack way up in the mountains. Since we entered the park, we had driven 10km/6.2miles and had climbed 750m/2441ft. Here the effects of the altitude were very noticeable. It was there that we started the last part of our journey, which was a 200m/656ft hike to our last stop. It took us about an hour to do that hike. We stopped every 10mins because the altitude made it very difficult. When we would start hiking through the mud and snow, and soon while our hearts would beat very fast; we would tire out very easily. We finally made it to our final stop, which was at 5000m/16,404ft! At that point, the clouds decided to part and the sun popped out-- giving us 360 degree views of the neighboring peaks as well as that of Nevado de Ruiz which was the one we were on. Basking in the warmth of the sun and surrounded by snow where the only sound was that of the wind blowing, it truly was a moment to remember. But alas it was time to head back down the mountain to go enjoy our the next part of our adventurous day: the hot springs!

Once we hiked back down to the truck, which was a lot easier then going up, we started the drive back down the mountain. After we exited the park, we took a a left turn down another part of the mountain to a place called Hotel Termales del Ruiz, which at 3500m/11,482ft, is the highest hotel in Colombia. We were provided a nice lunch, but the main attraction was the hot springs bath. It was a big pool full with hot water from the springs. There was a strong sulfur smell and slight tingly feeling when we slid into the water. It was a very nice relaxing treat after straining up the mountain. After a little while we finished up, took a rinse in COLD showers, and headed back to Manizales. That evening we were exhausted, went and had pizza for dinner, and then just went straight to bed for a good night’s rest.

Day 5: Wednesday, June 11th

Today, we had a bus to catch in the afternoon, so we spent the morning packing up our stuff and taking a walk around the city center of Manizales. We started off taking a cab to the Plaza de Bolivar, where we had a nice breakfast and walked around. We visited the Cathedral de Manizales, which was first built in 1854, then destroyed in an earthquake in 1878, and then rebuilt this time in wood, but burned down in 1925. The third version of the church was finished in 1929 and became the tallest church in Colombia. After visiting the cathedral, we wandered down and looked around at the Iglesia de los Padres Agustinos. After a cup of coffee (called “tinto” in Colombia), we wandered back to the hotel, picked up our stuff and headed to the bus station to catch a bus to Armenia.

We arrived in Armenia, which is the capital of the Quindio department and also considered the center of the coffee country. After finding a place to stay, we wandered around the town. We found a large shop-lined pedestrian avenue that we wandered down, and it led us to the main town square named Plaza de Bolivar. We had a dinner at this place that sold typical Colombian "fast food". What made it different and exciting is that it is not like what we have back home. I had an arepa burger that was a hamburger patty, cheese, bacon, and plantain stuffed in an arepa. It was really good! Hilary had a plantain sliced and filled with cheese! It looked like a banana split but with cheese and sauce instead of ice cream; it was super tasty as well. While we were eating, we decided to do something exciting the next day. We decided to do something neither of us had ever done, and that was to go paragliding! We spent the rest of the evening wandering around the square. We checked out the Catedral de la Imaculada Concepcion, which is an odd tent-shaped church, which was very unique. We ended the evening by listening to a mariachi band play at a small concert that the city does once a week. We retired back to the hotel and were super excited for the next days activities.

Day 6: Thursday, June 12th

We started the day off by having a coffee and pastries at a bakery before meeting up with our paragliding guy. Paragliding in Spanish is parapente and is a very adrenaline pumping sport of jumping off the sides of mountains with a parachute and catching air currents to stay afloat. There is nothing but a little seat that separates you and the couple of thousands of feet between you and the ground. He took us to a little place in a neighboring town called Calarca. From there, we joined a few other people in this rickety old jeep that took us to a place called Cerro El Castillo (the ride was an adventure in and of itself), which was on top of this mountain overlooking the city and the coffee country of Colombia. Hilary went first, and I followed for an exciting trip of flying and floating over the land, up and down with the currents, just above the tree line in some spots. Nothing but the sound of the wind and the flapping of the parachute as well as the beeping of the altimeter letting us know whether we were descending or gaining elevation. The whole flight lasted between 25-30 mins but felt like a lifetime. We landed gently in this field not far from where we got on the jeep for our ride. This was definitely a highlight of the trip thus far.

Hilary took this video shortly after her take-off.

This is Hilary's landing.

After our paragliding friend took us back to our hotel, we had lunch and made our way to the airport for our flight to Bogota.

After arriving in Bogota right at sunset, we headed straight for the hotel. It was located in the historic district of La Candelaria. We dropped our things off and wandered around our new surroundings, soon finding this excellent Persian restaurant. We then returned to our latest residence for another good night’s sleep.

Day 7: Friday, June 13th

Today was a big day since it was Hilary's 25th birthday, and I had the honor of celebrating it with her in Bogota. We started the day off by having a tasty arepa from a shop next door, and then we were off to explore the city. Bogota is the capital of Colombia; with a population of about 7,034,000 people, it is also the largest city in Colombia. The city and the surrounding towns are situated on a high plateau in the Andes Mountains, at an elevation of 2640m/8661ft, it is the 3rd highest capital in the world. Our first stop after breakfast, not including another brief stop at a bookstore, was the main square Plaza de Bolivar. You may have noticed that most towns have a Plaza de Bolivar and perhaps are wondering who that was. Simon Bolivar was a very important figure in Spanish America's (the Spanish speaking countries of North and South America) successful struggle for independence from Spain. He was instrumental in the foundation of Gran Colombia, which was a country made of the liberated spanish terrortories. Later this country would split up to make modern day Colombia, Peru, and Venezuela.

The Plaza Bolivar is surrounded by the administrative buildings of the Colombian government, Palacio de Justicia to the North, Edificio Lievano (the mayor's office) to the West, Capitolio Nacional to the South, and to the east there are a cathedral and a chapel, Catedral Primada and Capilla del Sagrario. The Capilla is one of the oldest buildings in the city dating back to the 17th century. After taking in the sights of the large plaza, we headed off to tour some museums. We started off with Botero museum, which houses an impressive collection of Colombia's most famous artist. It has many of his paintings and sculptures as well as some works from Picasso, Chagall, Dali, Renoir, Matisse, and Monet. After finishing our tour there, we headed to a temporary exhibit for the Museo del Oro. The main museum is considered one of the more important gold collections in the world but that was closed due to renovations, so we had to settle for a smaller sampling of the collection. Now it was time for lunch, and we were hungry. We stopped at this restaurant that wasn't to far from the Plaza de Bolivar. It was a more upscale place then what we had been going to throughout our trip, but it was Hilary's birthday so we were going all out. We had very tasty food and fresh juice (which most Colombians are accustomed to drinking regularly)! After our bellies were full with good food, we wandered around town some more. We went and looked at the Casa de Nariño, which is where the president of Colombia lives. Many guards with big guns surround the place. Then we wandered to some shops, which almost like flea markets or swap meets with low cost gifts and other goods. It was mid afternoon and we were a little tired, so we decided to go back to the hotel to rest for a little bit before we started our evening activities.

After our rest, we walked up to the cable car that was to take us up to Cerro de Monserrate. We made it to the top just in time to see the beautiful sunset over the Andes Mountains. Monserrate is a peak of 3160m/10,367ft in the mountain range to the east of the city. It has amazing views of the city down below and the mountains that surround it. We even saw some of the volcano peaks from the Parque de los Nevados where we just were days before. On top, there is a church with a large statue dating from the 1640's and a very nice restaurant. Once the sun set. we went to the restaurant named Casa San Isidro for a birthday dinner. This place we very nice and elegant with an amazing night time view of the city. We started with hot wine and ordered an appetizer of mushrooms in an excellent cheese sauce. Our main course was a plate of nicely cooked vegetables and we topped it off with some very good deserts, a crepe Suzanne and a chocolate tart with a candle on it (which was prepared especially to comemmorate Hilary’s birthday). All in all, it was the perfect ending to a great day. We made it back down the mountain and headed back to the hotel some much-needed rest.

Day 8: Saturday, June 14th

On Saturday, we had planned on waking up earlier then we did, but it still worked out just fine. We went to a cafe and had a coffee and a baked good for breakfast. We then wandered down the street to another market where we bought some coffee and other fun things. Today. we headed to a town called Zipaquira, which is about 50km/31miles north of Bogota in the Cundinamarca Department and has about 70,000 inhabitants. We took a 40-min bus ride on the city’s rapid transit system called TransMilenio, which is like a subway but above ground and in buses. Once we reached the Portal del Norte, we caught a bus for the 1.25hr ride to our destination. Once we arrived, we wandered around and visited the town square and had a lunch before heading to the main attraction. The main attraction in Zipaquira is the salt mines which have been functioning since before the Spanish came to the Americas. 200m/656ft inside the mountain is the Salt Cathedral, which was carved from the salt inside the mine. It was very dark and humid inside the tunnels that we took to get to the cathedral. Once there, it was an impressive display of carved benches and crosses and everything else you needed for a functioning church, including representations of all stations of the cross. We even got to see a 3D video of how the salt deposits were created and how they were mined. After we reached the surface again, we went to a museum explaining more in-depth the history of the salt mines and how they came to be. Once we were done with that, we wandered around town and found some gifts for people and caught the bus back to Bogota. When we arrived back to Bogota, we went back to the markets and bought some more gifts and coffee.

Another interesting situation that happened to us was when we were in a shop buying some coffee to take home. There was a beggar that had asked us for money right before we went into the store, and we said no. He proceeded to follow us into the store, but the store keeper told him to stay outside and there he waited for us to exit the store. It was a little nerve-wracking because it was night and here was this aggressive guy, and we didn't know what his intentions were. When we left, I handed him a coin and we kept on walking, but he followed us some more asking us for more money ‘til he finally got the hint and left. It was another example of how aggressive the less fortunate were. We know that they were doing whatever they could to survive, but it was something that I was not used to seeing. We went and had our final meal in Colombia at a pizza place while watching the Colombian National Soccer team play on TV. On our way back to the hotel, we stopped and stocked up on chocolates and other things that we had come to enjoy during our trip. Back at the hotel, we gathered our things and prepared for an early morning wake up to head to the airport.

Departure Day: Sunday, June 15th

Today we woke up really early and caught a taxi for our flights home. The reason I write about our departure day is because of the amount of security one must go through just to get to the gate. First, off you have to be a passenger just to enter the building, then we went to our respective airlines: me, American and Hilary, Delta. She got through really fast but it took me about an hour to get through and, when I finally got up to the front, I had to go run to across the hall and pay a tax just to leave the country. When we headed up to security, we had to stand in another line to pass through customs and then x-rays. By this time, I was very close to missing my flight. We finally got through security and I had just a few minutes before my flight left. But then there was another security point to pat us down!! Well I finally made it through that and arrived at my gate (where there was yet ANOTHER security pat-down) after the departure time, but luckily the flight was delayed, and it was still there. At the end of the day, I arrived in Seattle, and Hilary arrived an hour after me, and that was the end of our very successful trip.

Epilogue

My experiences in Colombia were full of many memories and adventures. Colombia is a country full of people that feel that Americans have a bad image of their country. Everyone I met there was very nice and helpful. There was a great amount of poverty and less fortunate. The few run-ins with the less fortunate that I had were very interesting and like nothing I had ever experienced. They were very aggressive and didn't take no for an answer. When I think about it though, and if I put myself in their shoes, I would do the same because they are doing anything that they can to survive. I say that Cali was by far my least favorite place. It felt unsafe and not very clean with a lot of air pollution and lots of trash everywhere. My favorite place would have to have been Manizales. It was a trip that I will never forget!

Freedom!

2008-07-04T12:16:00.000-07:00

Good news: Yesterday, July 3rd, 15 prisoners who had been held in the FARC's captivity for many years were set free!!! These included three Americans (who had been kidnapped in 2003), Ingrid Betancourt (who was kidnapped in 2002), and 11 Colombian military and police officials (many of whom had been prisoners for much longer). This group had been known as what translates to "game pieces" because the FARC often used them as bargaining chips, and their rescue certainly was not an intentional release of hostages by FARC officials. Rather, Colombian military spies tricked them into believing that they were simply transporting them to an important meeting. I think it would make a great movie someday! :-) Although there are still about 700 others under their control in the Colombian jungles, this is definitely great progress. Many family members are most certainly rejoicing today as they're able to spend time with loved ones whom they've missed for far too long. Oh, happy day!

Here are some resources to learn more about it:

http://www.guardian.co.uk/world/2008/jul/03/colombia.usa
http://www.nysun.com/national/farc-hostages-return-to-america/81248/
http://www.npr.org/templates/story/story.php?storyId=92178046&ft=1&f=1001

Beach bums

2008-05-25T14:04:00.000-07:00

I recently went to Pianguita, a beach site on the "litte Africa" Pacific Coast of Colombia, and it was a very enjoyable experience. We played in the waves, partook in games on the beach (I even got to teach Ultimate Frisbee to interested players), learned about the ever-changing tides (The posts below were the soccer goal earlier in the evening), witnessed all sorts of impressive jungle wildlife (including the featured tarantula and huge Conga ant, which can kill you!), made lots of young friends, and swallowed about 4 tons of salt water.

Alas, my time at the beach is now over, and I'm busy writing papers and taking final exams. :-(

Embassy Notes

2008-05-19T13:54:00.000-07:00

The US Embassy kindly sends out emails like the following one periodically:

May 16, 2008: The U.S. Embassy in Bogotá advises all Americans in Colombia to keep a low profile and to remain vigilant as a result of continued military activity and recent extraditions of Colombian citizens to the United States. Although the Embassy has no specific, credible information concerning threats against Americans in Colombia, all Americans are strongly encouraged to exercise caution and avoid areas where foreigners are known to congregate. All official and personal travel outside of Bogotá by Embassy personnel continues to be reviewed, with the exception of air travel to Cali, Cartagena, and Medellín. Embassy personnel are prohibited from taking public buses in Colombia and the Embassy advises all Americans to refrain from using them as well.

Good thing I don't know any other Americans here and have no idea where foreigners "congregate." 80)

And it burns, burns, burns...

2008-04-20T18:20:00.000-07:00

I had originally hoped that my next blog entry would contain something of great worldly significance, like an analysis of the many human rights violations that are currently taking place here in Colombia (Please note-- these include those of: antipersonnel mines, the highest rate of internal displacement in the world behind the Sudan, a high rate of child soldiers, murders, crimes, kidnappings, torture, lots of missing people, the huge narco-trafficking ring (that creates tons of violence in and of itself), gangs, targeted assassinations, etc.), or perhaps something about the conflicts and political controversies of the country, or even some information on the research that I’ve been conducting on the indigenous peace movement of the department (state) of Cauca. But, in reality, the story that I am most eager to share involves the history of a mattress.

Two weeks ago, I became the proud renter of an apartment in Colombia (which is way closer to my university—yay!!!). It had an extra room, so I decided to invite my German friend, Melanie, to stay with me. We were very content in our new home-sweet-home, although we soon discovered that taking care of our living space would require battles with cockroaches and other insects that appeared daily without warning. I also discovered that I had to “battle it out” nightly with my mattress, which was completely old, uneven, full of ridges, and pretty much the most uncomfortable space where I’ve slept in ever (which I feel says a lot, as I’ve slept on many hard grounds and rocky camping spots). When my back could no longer take it, I searched for a replacement.

This replacement came in the form of another mattress that was kindly lent to me by Lola, Liliana’s mother. When it arrived, it was pretty much the oldest, dirtiest mattress I’d seen (It had been her daughter’s 40-years-ago), and insects started falling out of it as we lifted it up to the apartment. It looked so bad that Melanie wouldn’t even let me bring it into our place. “We already have a bug problem!” she said, “I do NOT want it to get worse.”

When we asked the guard of our apartment complex (Rodrigo) if/how/where we could dump it, he only had one suggestion: set it on fire. He also offered to help with this process—that is, if we agreed to wait until his shift ended at 12:00am. “Setting the mattress on fire at midnight??? Si, señor, sounds like a plan!” (That was our reply).

Ergo, Luis (Melanie’s Colombian boyfriend) and I bought a bag of gasoline (yes, you can apparently by gasoline by the bag) and matches and prepared for our mattress burning ritual… It was all that we dreamed of and more! Here are photos of the event, which was quite memorable and rewarding… I am sad to report, however, that I am still currently sleeping on the floor. :(

This photo does not really do justice to the true ugly condition of the mattress.

Rodrigo prepares the mattress by covering it with our secret ingredient: gasoline.

Whew--- it was up in flames instantaneously!

I call this the “feel the fire of the burning mattress” ritualistic ceremonial dance.

Nothing says “invigorating” like a mattress on fire!

Presentation Circuit

2008-04-04T13:57:00.000-07:00

I’ve begun my presentation circuit as a Rotary Ambassadorial Scholar, and it has been quite an interesting process to be forced to reflect on my own culture, societal norms, and characteristics of my country and present this to various audiences.

Here I am with my Rotary Advisor, Carlos, after presenting yet another flag of the Rotary Club of the University District of Seattle (this time to the Club of Cali San Fernando).

I am deep in thought as the following question is posed for me: “How will each of the three main presidential candidates react to the current situation of Colombia if elected as president? More specifically, how will they respond to the actions of the crazy Marxist President Chávez [of Venezuela]?" Ay, ay, ay!! Can’t people just ask me about something easy, like American food or movies?

Just Call Me “Teacha [Teacher] Heeeeelary”

2008-04-03T15:11:00.000-07:00

Due to some “logistical challenges,” my jump rope club in El Hogar María Gorreti has evolved into an English class. I can’t say that it wasn’t a disappointment to end this endeavor, but I do believe it will perhaps be revived at some point in the near future. In the meantime, I feel that the absence of this chaotic club in my schedule has freed up lots of energy for me, and I’m glad that I can still be a part of the girls’ lives.

My English class has presented its own unique set of challenges, but it has also provided me with some amusing moments as well. For instance, yesterday, four of the girls asked me if I would do them the favor of translating texts they had written. (As a side note, I have become quite popular as a translator here, constantly receiving emails with letters, applications, and documents to translate. Ergo, I am becoming very experienced and efficient at transforming Spanish into English!). I naively agreed and found that each of my students had written love letters to the boys of their “corazones” that were quite entertaining. My favorite was one that concluded dramatically with, “You know that I love you wholeheartedly and want to be with you forever. But you already have someone, and that someone is not me.” Ah, the heartache of teenage love!

Here I am with a few of my dear, oh-so-charming-and-well-behaved students.

Bogotá or bust!

2008-03-19T17:15:00.000-07:00

I was able to take in some new scenery and discover many amazing, cultural wonders of Colombia’s capitol city last weekend, when my German friend (Melanie) and I traveled to Bogotá for the largest International Theater Festival in the world! I’ve still been struggling quite a lot here in Cali, so I must say that it was good for my heart and soul to be in new surroundings, and I discovered that I am a huge fan of the atmosphere of Bogotá. Aside from a very memorable German version of Macbeth that included 8 German men playing all roles (both male and female) in FULL nudity (!!!!) and a really impressive Spanish flamenco dancing show (two productions of the theater festival), we saw many neat attractions. Here are some images and descriptions:

We rode cable cars up to the scenic viewing point of Monserrate, which has 360-degree views of the massive city (which is situated in a valley) and surrounding green mountains.

We viewed many famous works of art. Here's the Mona Lisa, according to Botero (Colombia's most famous artist, who really enjoys embracing the chubbiness of mankind) and a work of Picasso.

Bogotá is home to many beautiful churches, cathedrals, and chapels.

Melanie and I befriended many pigeons in the city's center.

The highlight of our excursion, however, was the festival’s inaugural parade, which was the COOLEST parade I’ve ever seen in my life. It was pretty much a 2.5-hour nonstop party that included tons of dancing, enthusiasm, audience participation, incredible costumes, Latin American culture, and resounding energy. Here are some highlights:

[This last one was quite eye-catching! A man passed by completely naked, riding a bike in a glass cage. He was the ninth naked man that I saw throughout this Bogotá experience, mind you!].

Intensity Level = High

2008-03-05T06:36:00.000-08:00

Colombia has recently found itself in the midst of quite a heated controversy and conflict, and I assume that most of you have heard at least bits and pieces of the crazy events that have unfolded here within the last few days. It's really hard to know who to believe and anticipate what will happen, and the news reports are coming in at rapid speed. Basically, here's a quick summary: Last week, the FARC released four political figures who had been kidnapped and in captivity for six years, and this important step was made possible in part through the assistance of President Hugo Chavez (of Venezuela), who has constantly been involved in the process of negotiation with FARC leaders. All seemed to be going well-- as this was noted as great progress. However, on Saturday, Colombian military officials crossed 1.1 miles into Ecuador to kill Raúl Reyes (a top FARC leader) and 15 guerrillas. This has caused quite the reaction from Correa (president of Ecuador) and Chavez. Here's an article that gives a bit more of a summary of the various actions that have been taken:
http://www.cbsnews.com/stories/2008/03/02/ap/world/main3898139.shtml . Things are constantly changing, and new facts are continually brought to the public eye. For instance, recent reports have declared that Reyes' computer contained proof that Chavez had given $300 million to FARC leaders, which has completely outraged Colombian President Uribe (who hopes to bring him to the international court). It is quite the crazy atmosphere; here's hoping that all gets resolved peacefully and quickly!

Jump Rope Club

2008-03-04T07:17:00.000-08:00

I've been teaching my Jump Rope Club at los "Hogares María Goretti" for four weeks now, and... well, it isn't exactly the structured, organized team that I had anticipated! It often seems like chaos (imagine 27 girls with jump ropes in a small space), and I still don't have enough ropes for all of them. I try to plan "lessons," but it turns into "do whatever you feel like." Last week, one little girl had an "emotional crisis" (imagine her screaming/kicking/yelling at a man who wasn't there) in the midst of Jump Rope Club, and she was in a psychiatric hospital for 8 days. It was sooooo crazy and so sad! The girls definitely come from broken homes and have had really horrible experiences in their short lives. I was feeling like a huge failure with the whole thing, but one little girl (a 6-year-old) and I had the following conversation: Girl: "I wish I could go and see my mommy. I can't, and it's my daddy's fault." Me: "Oh, that's really too bad." Girl: "He was raping me. Do you know what raping means?" Me: "Yes, that is really awful. No one deserves to be treated like that. I'm so glad that you don't have to experience that any more. Aren't you glad that you are living here at los Hogares Maria Goretti?" Girl: "It's okay. I wish I could live with my mommy, but I really like it when you come and jump rope with us. That's what I like about Hogares Maria Goretti." Ah, that totally made my day! See? I may not teach them a single trick, but it made me feel like I'm some sort of positive influence for them. =) I do hope to get a little more control and organization with it at some point, and I'm even hoping to have a little performance. We shall see...

Since I don't really see myself in the role of "coach" yet, I feel like my main role is official photographer. Seriously! The girls LOVE to have their picture taken, and I think I've captured about 350 shots of them thus far. I often regret revealing the fact that I had a digital camera to them (as they pull on my arm and tell me, "Now take a picture of me like this! And like this! And like this!"..."And how about a picture to send to my grandma? And one to put in my bunk bed? And one for my friend?"... "And now PLEASE take a picture of me with my dolly!!"... "And one with my favorite stuffed dog!"), but I think it really is something that they can have that means something to them. I try to do things that individualize them (as you can imagine what it's like living in a small home with about 30 girls of various ages), so I guess it's worth it. I just have to set picture-taking limits...

"And now a picture of me with her because we both are wearing pink..."

One notable event that I experienced with the Girls of Hogares María Goretti was a large dance performance. (They apparently are more dedicated to the art of dancing then they are with jump roping; perhaps I'll have to talk to their instructor to get some pointers!). It was quite the affair! There were many preparations (hair, make-up, costumes), and their 15-minute show featured various types of dances from different regions of the country. Volunteers had graciously donated and made the costumes, and the girls were quite fetching. I felt like a proud parent!!

Recent Scenes

2008-02-25T08:23:00.000-08:00

Here's a bit of a photo diary:

Groups of children enjoy themselves while sliding down a slick, concrete hill on plastic boxes.

This is one view of a residential area of Cali.

The Rotarians invited me to a luncheon at a "finca" (like a cabin) in the mountains. Memorable sights included this rainbow and this Coca plant, which (I assure you) will NOT be used to make cocaine.

I also was able to take another much-needed trip away from the city to learn a great deal about the production of plantains (one of my favorite foods here, by the way!).

Here I am with Fernando, Liliana, Carolina, and Isabela (Carolina and Isabela are sixteen-year-old twins)-- the very welcoming, helpful, and amazing Colombian family with whom I have been living. I will be leaving them for another home that is closer to the university shortly. (Note: They are standing on a ledge to appear as tall as me!).

This short, random video of a town called Puerto Tejado will give you an idea of what the streets are like in most cities. Please note the abundance of bicycles, buses, motorcycles, people, and taxis. Cali is like this... only X 20!!! I have had a hard time adjusting to the over-stimulating hustle and bustle of the city and chaotic driving. In fact, one of the hardest things for me has been seeing so many crashes and accidents. The most impacting of these involved a little child who had been hit on his bicycle. I didn't see him, and I'm not exactly sure what happened-- all I saw was a kids' bike all smashed up and surrounded by blood. I really hope that he is okay.

A Fish Out of Water

2008-02-25T08:10:00.000-08:00

Last week, I was prescribed three different medications (one pill to be taken daily and two creams) for the many pestering mosquito bites that seemed to appear daily all over my arms and legs-- in spite of my constant application of 20% Deet bug repellent. (And, mind you, I'm living in a city-- not the jungle!!). In all of my travels and time in the great outdoors, I've never experienced anything like this before. They are quite noticeable on my glowing white skin, and I became so frustrated with the continual urge to itch that I was almost at my wit's end...

I have felt like a small child battling chicken pox.

What was even more enraging was that no one else seemed to have the same problem!!! My huge welts became symbolic of the feeling I've had a lot of lately: "Why's everybody always picking on me?" I have to honestly say that the last few weeks have been rough; I've been struggling with feeling like an outsider-- and I kept thinking that even the darn mosquitoes know that I'm a foreigner!!!

Some of you have heard me express my strong feelings of homesickness and loneliness that I've been experiencing recently, and I think that I'm currently headed upward. But I have struggled so much with not knowing the cultural norms and blending in that I think it may take me a while to feel at "home" here.

I think I would feel better about being an "outsider" if Colombia weren't so dangerous for foreigners. I have been told time and time again about certain rules to follow to stay safe (My least favorite= "Sit in the aisle of the bus if there's a seat available, as it is harder to rob you there." My instinct is to head straight for the breeze of the window to assist me in tolerating the hot stuffiness of the crowded vehicle!), and perhaps I've gotten a little paranoid... But (frankly) I get scared sometimes and don't know who to trust. Even taxis are allegedly dangerous. Then, when I need help, I am afraid to ask because so many people have told me, "Don't talk. As soon as someone hears your accent, they'll know that you're not from here... And bad things will happen." I also get asked sometimes, "Don't you know that it's a bad idea to be by yourself?", but I usually don't have any other options. Perhaps these are exaggerations, but they sure don't make me feel comfortable...

I also am having a hard time with the (from an American's perspective) seeming lack of effectiveness of the systems in place. I obviously want the best for the people here, but there's so much that really needs to be improved with the way things work. For instance, I saw four car wrecks (not the actual events taking place, but the remnants once they had occurred) on Friday (Yes, that was in ONE day!), and each one was just craziness. I thought of how easy it would be to call 9*1*1 in the United States, wait a few minutes for the police/ambulance to arrive, and get everything under control in an efficient manner. Here, that's definitely not the case. Traffic was absolute chaos for a very long period of time (With lots of honking and road rage), and the police didn't seem capable of handling the situations. Meanwhile, who knows what was happening to the poor people who had been injured...

I've recently made two foreign friends: one from Germany and one from Spain, and it has been so nice to have the support of people who are sharing a similar experience (By the way, they both have had the same problem with mosquito bites, which made me feel so much better about it!). My Spanish friend, Rosario, told me that she was so afraid for the first month that she hardly ever left her home. She has started to adjust more, and I'm sure that I will eventually, too. I am so glad that I'm meeting lots of Colombians, but I really value these friendships of people who have found themselves in the same circumstances as me. I thinks it helps us all to process the realities of Colombia.

Thus, I am happy to report that my mosquito bites have improved dramatically, and my outlook is getting better as well. 80)

[I hope to post more shortly about the many good things and people found in Colombia, as the country does have nice things to offer!! I now must immerse myself in my studies, but be on the lookout for more photos and commentaries within the next day or so...].

Here we go a-Marching!

2008-02-09T19:35:00.000-08:00

On February 4th, I joined the estimated 4.8 million people who turned out for 387 different events across Colombia and more than 100,000 people in 165 cities around the world to take a huge stand against the FARC (Some also took it to be simply a stand against ALL violent groups of Colombia). Wow, what an experience!!! It was quite impressive and exhilarating as I met up with Rotarians of my host club (Below, we are with a banner that reads, "The Rotarians of the world united for peace in Colombia") and stood in solidarity with 1,000s of peaceful (yet expressive) citizens. Roads were shut down; schools were closed; and everyone dawned white t-shirts (symbolizing peace) and colorful signs, flags, banners, and symbols expressing the desire for the kidnappings, threats, internal displacement, and horrendous violations of human rights to end.

However, while the ideas and symbolism behind this demonstration were very meaningful, I have to say that it wasn't exactly a "pleasant" experience. The powerful sun combined with the body heat of so many people crammed into one space was almost intolerable, and the sheer number of people prevented us from actually "marching" for quite some time. We eventually had to may our way "upstream," fighting against the crowd and getting separated from various other group members, to leave without getting injured... Regardless, I am glad to have participated, and I really am hopeful that the many, many people suffering because of violent groups like this will find themselves in better conditions very soon...

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*I'm on the end on the first picture.
This features part of the rally, which included singing the national anthem. This was taken when we all had precious space!

I was surrounded by this crowd (which became MUCH more animated than this at various points throughout the event).

Gone South: Hilary's Reflections of C*O*L*O*M*B*I*A