Ruthless and Toothless

Getting hassled on the beach is a common occurrence here in Cartagena (and it even happens in my hood, Boquilla, but much less because the overall lack of tourists).  The beach venders here are ruthless and try and convince you that you just need that new pair of sunglasses or a bathing suit (like you would forget one of those items when going to the beach).  Also I can’t help but notice that a fair amount of the vendors are missing some teeth (see title).  These vendors are smart and have a few nifty strategies you have to be aware of as a gringo/prey.  

A few of my personal favorites consist of the good ‘ol Transative law method.  This is when a vendor forces something upon you, often jewelry, and then refuses to take it back because beach rules state that when you touch it you buy it.  Another is the, Beach banking system.  This is when the vendor, usually massage ladies, tell you that you don’t have to pay now for the service because the given vendor accepts beach credit.  Now I am not sure what beach credit is, but I am guessing they are not talking in terms of sand dollars.  Then there is my personal favorite and most awkward method, the Don’t mind me method.  This strategy is common among all vendors and occurs when a vendor walks up to you and then proceeds to stand next to you without exchanging a word for an extended period of time.  I have experienced message ladies standing awkwardly, for me at least,  in front of me not exchanging a single word and just waiting for me to ask for a massage for five minutes.  

At first, these vendors frustrated me because I just wanted to relax for a few hours and soak in the scorching Colombian sun, but now I am coming to terms with the fact that this is how they make a living.  With that in mind my patience has increased tremendously and I have to admit it is quite nice when you are burning in the sun and see a raspa’o vendor or beer man walking in your direction.

More Than Just Back Sweat for Breakfast

My cooking teacher Rosa

As we are approaching May and the weather is becoming Hellish here on the coast of Colombia I am finally getting around to my main New Years resolution.  I decided in December that although I am a self proclaimed master with a George Forman, I wanted to take my very limited cooking skills to the next level.  Since the Padre doesn’t cook either, there is a woman, Rosa, who takes charge in the kitchen.  I told her about my grand plans to learn to cook and she was incredibly eager to begin the process.  When I told her of my cooking abilities: grilled chicken and sandwiches, she couldn’t help but smile.  Rosa is a great teacher, very caring and the closest thing I have to a host mom.  She greats me everyday and always asks how I am and how my classes are going.  She is the reason I keep returning to the kitchen even though I CAN’T STAND THE HEAT so technically I should get out.  

So now every Monday I walk down to the kitchen expecting more than just back sweat.  I help cook Breakfast and Lunch and have so far learned a a few nice dishes, some of which I will bring back to the US and others that will stay in Colombia.  Some highlights include: 

These pictures are from Google because I have not been keeping up with the photography :( 

Platanos Maduros:  Fried Plantains 

Arroz de Coco: Coconut Rice 

 

Empanadas de Queso:  Fried dough with melted cheese inside

Lowlight: 

Sopa de Mondongo:  Cow stomach lining soup

The Kitchen!

Not only is Rosa helping me cook, but she is helping me integrate into the Boquilla community as well.  The other weekend she took me to a birthday party, my first Boquilla birthday, where I got to meet a bunch of her friends.  Being a Costeño birthday there was obviously lots of dancing and so as you can imagine I was on dace duty all night.  This entailed dancing predominantly Salsa and Vallentato with middle aged women and sweating my ass off in the humidity.

Also during the party a chicken randomly walked through and I really wanted to say, “Talk about a party fowl” but unfortunately my puns don’t always translate into Spanish,  what a shame.    Until next time!        

The anomaly that is a Costeño man

The machista culture is alive and well on the coast of Colombia and thus often men can be described as, for lack of a better world, well.......macho.  However, this costeño man who is very concerned about keeping his manly man status partakes in a few practices that would not be considered, by many, to be quite so macho back in the US.  For example, it is common to see men with shaven armpits, manicured nails, waxed/shaped eyebrows, and really tight, SMEDIUM, pink bedazzled shirts, just to name a few.  This makes the Costeño man an interesting man.  

-Obviously these are just my observations and the above does not apply to everyone.

POSH Corps update:  As I am writing this blog the Padre is having Direct TV installed

That is all for now.

Semana Santa (CAMERA IS BACK)

Semana Santa or Holy week for all the Laymen.  This week is a big deal in all Latin America and is full of festivities and leads up to Easter Sunday.  So for a Jew this means a WEEK vacation!  I was also lucky enough to land a heathen girlfriend, Sarah, who also preferred the week vacation to the seven days in church, so she came to visit! 

Sick Sarah

The vacation started off a little rough as she got pretty sick and I ended up taking her to the hospital for what looked to be food poisoning (word to the wise, lay off the mysterious street meat sticks until you have been in Colombia for at least a month).  The hospital was very helpful and in 2.5 days time she was nursed back to help thanks to the BRAT diet (Bananas, Rice, Applesauce, and Tea).  So although a bit late the vacation was underway.  

The first truly tourist thing I have done in three months was take Sarah to meet up with some friends and go to Volcán del Totumo, also know to us non-spanish speakers as the MUD VOLCANO.  Which is not so much a volcano as it is a huge termite mound with a hot tub size opening at the top.  Once filled to maximum capacity, around 20, men are ready inside to lather you up with the mud that contains 50 some odd minerals.  Although some might consider what the men do inside the mud tub to be sexual harassment, I actually found it quite pleasurable.  After getting a full body mud massage we then tried our hardest to sink to the bottom, which we found impossible.  So we just relaxed suspended in mud for around 30 minutes.  We, like everyone else, then headed over the the lagoon to get further harassed, or scrubbed off depending on how much you enjoy strangers pouring water over your head and scrubbing every nook and cranny of your ENTIRE body.  These local ladies obviously were not working for free and charged us $1 each.  Money well spent to get rid of all the mud.   

Mud Volcano

The tourist activities didn’t stop at the mud volcano however, the following day we went on a tour of the Islas del Rosario.  These are 27 small coral islands a few miles off the coast of Cartagena.  The islands range from being able to fit one shack to holding resorts that play host to upper class citizens.  On one of the islands we even got to snorkel and although the coral looked pretty dead, due to the warm currents and the general lack of oceanic protection laws, the fish were beautiful and I really wish I had one of those nifty underwater cameras.  The tour ended on Playa Blanca, aptly named for its white sands.  This was the most beautiful beach I have seen in Colombia thus far and had amazingly clear water.  However, the word has obviously spread about the wonders of this island paradise and unfortunately the beach was packed with faces whiter than my own (lots of tourists).   

Playa Blanca

The other days we passed the time strolling thought the walled city or at one of the many beaches.  At the beaches we were able to make tons of new friends, granted they were mostly stray dogs, we enjoyed the time in the sun none the less.  This was my first and best Semana Santa to date, thanks Sarah!

Dog friend

Playa Blanca

Tree busted for cocaine 

Male Shakira impersonator 

Getting rubbed down in the mud volcano 

A cumbia dance group we ran into 

Colombia by the Numbers

158: Days I have been in Colombia

64: Days I have been in La Boquilla 

25-45: Minutes it takes to get from La Boquilla to the Center (depending on the bus)

2:30: Hours it takes to get from La Boquilla to the Peace Corps office in Barranquilla

1.760: Colombian Pesos to 1 US dollar 

1.500: Pesos to ride the bus

1.400: Pesos to buy a beer 

4: Teachers I co-teach with 

248: Students we teach Monday-Thursday 

15: Names of students I actually know

7: Are Juan David

3: Number of Lizards I saw in the house while I was walking downstair to get water yesterday night 

5: Days we had water this past week 

6: Books I have read since in Colombia (Odd Man Out, Playing for Pizza, Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas, Smokescreen, Hunger Games, and the Odds)  

4.5: Seasons of Lost I have watched

3: Wins my softball team has 

7: Losses the softball team has

7: AM the average time I start sweating


12:  Number of priests that are currently in the house today to celebrate MENS day

Short Stories

Armpit Hair

I am just going to come out and say it, men here shave their armpits (I think it is more aerodynamic when fighting).  Now with that in mind, my first short involves my least  cooperative co-teacher asking me to do something for her....again.  I agree because I heard something about taking the kids to the beach to have Phys Ed.  I quickly go back home change cloths (tank top and shorts) and then take the 4th grade class down to play some beach soccer.  As we are about to get started I feel a pull on my armpit hair and look down to my left to see one of my girl students who does not even come up to my chest looking up at me.  She then says, “pelo” or hair for all of you English speakers out there.  Her eyes are wide open as she if she has never seen armpit hair before, but than again maybe she hadn’t (see first sentence).  Although very cute I learned my lesson and will no longer be wearing tank tops to teach PE again.

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Bordering on SWAG

At one of the schools I work at the rooms are separated by a thin layer of drywall and there are no doors so technically, and too often, students can leave the classroom and come watch what is going on in the MYSTERIOUS ENGLISH CLASS.  This is both really distracting for the students and for their teacher that has ADHD, me.  One day I see a fifth grader walking up to the class room with an air of confidence.   He got real close to me and said 21, 22, 23 and walked away.  That was all......He just felt like leaving his class to share that he knew a few numbers in the twenties.  This kind of stuff happens all the time, the kids just want to show you they ‘know’ English!  

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Profe Sandwich 

In one of my secondary projects, teaching English to a women’s empowerment group, the word got out that I didn’t know how to dance Champeta (very popular music in La Boquilla).  So one woman pulled out a cell phone and put on some music and then four others stood up and attempted to teach me the basic steps.....How truly Colombian!  Before I could even ask what I was supposed to do, I found myself sandwiched between two of the women.  So in the span of five minutes I went from speaking English to being sandwiched between two of my students while the rest chanted ‘Profe, Profe, Profe.‘  Again only in Colombia!   

Sorry for the lack of pictures, but I am still looking for a place where I can fix my camera.

CARNAVAL 2012, a Blur of a Weekend

Part of the group

“IM BACK!” I shouted in Spanish as I arrived at the bared in porch of my old family’s house in Barranquilla.  A minute later I was greeted by my old host uncle who looked really confused.  I guess my old host mom did not relay the message that I was coming back for Carnaval to all nine members of the family.  After a minute of a fairly awkward explanation of what I was doing at their house and the fact that I would be staying there for the next three days, it felt like I never left.  

Blackface/body costume (not considered racist here)

The reason I went to Barranquilla was to enjoy the second biggest Carnaval (Rio de Janeiro is home to the biggest) in the world.  If you are not sure of what Carnaval is just think of the party atmosphere and costumes of Mardi Gras with a Latin twist (i.e. great dancing, lost of body paint, and general anarchy).  Ever since I got the invitation to serve in Colombia and started doing research about the costal region, Barranquilla’s Carnaval began popping up everywhere on the internet.  It is in fact so important to the country that in 2003, UNESCO declared Baranquilla’s Carnaval to be a Masterpiece of Oral and Intangible Heritage of Humanity.  Based on that information alone, I can not even begin to do justice to that weekend by explaining it in written word, but here goes nothing.

   This UNESCO masterpiece went far above and beyond anything that I could have ever imagined and ended up with me returning to the house at around 4am every night!  The first night we went to a live cumbia concert in a packed dirt lot.  It was there that I learned that at Carnaval it is tradition to get flower thrown in your face (look right) and get sprayed with foam out of huge ‘silly string’ canisters by complete strangers.  

The second day we went to the opening parade, la batalla de flores, where there were ornate floats and tons of dancers.  Also it was there that my camera ran out of batteries and I realized that I had left my charger at home.  However it turns out that it would not have mattered anyway because I am now at home and my camera is not taking a charge.  I think something is wrong with the battery.  So it may be a while before I can post any new pictures :( 

As I could literally write a book about this amazing experience, I will spare you all and describe the rest of the weekend in 10 words: sweat, loud music, dancing, friends, no sleep, street food, and beer (and does not count as a word)