Linda tierra, linda gente

Since the last time I wrote, which was more than a month ago, my work schedule has more than doubled, along with my social life; I’ve had the chance to travel to some areas of the country outside of Barranquilla; my costeña vocabulary has increased; and I’ve established more or less my “life,” my own routine, here. I simply cannot recount every detail of what I’ve been up to in the past weeks, but I would like to express how much I've come to appreciate the beauty of Colombia. Through the photos, I want to share with you the amazing sights I have seen in Colombia. And in my stories, I want to share the most important type of beauty I have found within Colombia: the beauty of its people!

Account #1 of how friendly Colombians are: One day, I was standing in line to check out at the grocery store, and a middle-aged man in front of me started asking me the typical questions that I get anytime I meet someone new here: “Where are you from?” – Estados Unidos. “From what part?” – Wisconsin. (Which, comically, has been confused with “Kansas” more than once, since when I say “Wisconsin,” I use my normal, native English accent). After I told the man that I work at la Universidad del Norte, he shared with me that he, too, is a professor, who teaches at a university in Cartagena (another city on the Atlantic coast, just a couple hours away from Barranquilla). He grabbed a bottle of iced tea from the beverage fridge adjacent to the checkout line, then pointed at it and asked me if I wanted one, too. As we drank our iced teas while waiting in line (I still can’t get over the fact that you’re allowed to drink your beverage before you pay for it), he jotted down his e-mail address and told me to feel free to contact him, since we’re both involved in academia. So basically, we met, conversed, and less than two minutes later, I get a free iced tea. Normal? In the U.S., no, at least not in my experience. In fact, in the U.S., I might have thought this guy was a complete creep. But after having been Colombia for some time, it was obvious to me that he was just acting out normal costeño kindness.

Examples # 2 and #3 of Colombian warmth: At the Modern Art Museum of Barranquilla, I was viewing a super-chévere exhibit by a Colombian graphic artist, Dicken Castro. I noticed a group of students who had sketchbooks and rulers with them, so I guessed them to be graphic design students. I started talking with them, and sure enough, I was able to recognize my kind! While chatting with them about how graphic design studies work in Colombia, and about the designs featured in the exhibit, another pelao (guy, dude) who obviously wasn’t part of the student group joined in the conversation. This man, Filiberto, shared his knowledge with us on the graphic artist: that he is in his nineties now, but still continues designing; that he has designed over 600 logos; that the design on the 200 Colombian peso was created by him. We also ended up talking about the general cultural program within Barranquilla, and Filiberto told me that he is actually involved with the Modern Art Museum as a hobby, and that he also had contacts at the Museo del Caribe (the bigger, more renowned museum in Barranquilla). He gave me his business card since I told him I would be interested in volunteering at one of the museums, and though his help, I will be assisting the graphic designer at the Museo del Caribe starting this next week – which, by the way, I am SUPER excited about – as one of my projects, they want me to design more products for the museum store (like the T-shirts and coffee mugs and magnets you can buy at museum stores as gifts or souvenirs… but cooler, more creative products, since the Museo del Caribe is a really interactive and modern museum). The group of graphic design students that I had chatted with at the Modern Art Museum also made sure to exchange contact information with me, and that very night, I actually ended up partying with one of them. This is sooooo Barranquilla…:)

 

Then there’s the example of my friend Queli. My first or second week working at UniNorte, one of my coworkers sent me an e-mail explaining that his Colombian sister-in-law (Queli) was interested in having private English lessons from a female, native English-speaker, and that he thought of me as a possible tutor for her. I agreed to help out. The first time Queli and I met up, as we were discussing pricing for the lessons, Queli threw out a number, but then quickly added that she’d like to show me different places in Barranquilla and basically, be friends. And just like that, we became friends. Well, I mean, once, during our first official English lesson, we looked through a language book, but that never happened again, since we just started going to the movies, the beach, and out to eat, and just talking about whatever in English or Spanish.

Point in case #5. During a weekend trip to the city of Medellín, on my last day there, I was going solo to take the metrocable up into the mountains, because I wanted to visit Santa Elena, a pueblo where most of the flowers in Medellín are grown (Did you know that Colombia is one of the world’s largest flower exporters? Medellín, as as the “city of eternal spring,” takes a large part in this flower production). At one point en route, I had to get off at one of the metrocable stops to switch to a different line. At this particular stop, however, there was another site that I had been thinking of visiting, the Biblioteca España, and so I kind of just stopped and planted myself in the middle of everyone walking by, looking from one direction to another and trying to decide whether I wanted to go to the Biblioteca España right then or continue my journey up to Santa Elena. Since I must have appeared to be lost, an older Colombian woman who was walking by asked me what I was looking for. I told her that I wasn’t really lost, that I was just trying to decide where I wanted to visit next. She then proceeded to invite me to come with her and her family up to Santa Elena – the Biblioteca España was closed, anyway, she said. The reason for her family outing was that her daughter, Janeth, was visiting from Zaragoza, Spain, since she is married to a Spaniard and only makes it back to Colombia once a year. Janeth and I instantly shared a special bond, since I could talk with her about my travels in Spain, and since we were both short-term visitors of Medellín; so I took pictures of her with her digital camera; she took pictures of me with my digital camera, and then, of course, we ended up taking pictures together, too. Basically, they instantly took me in as part of their family for the day. The nine of us shared the metrocable ride the rest of the way up to Santa Elena, we shared lunch together, we shared photos together; Janeth and I shared my umbrella together when it started to rain. They paid for my lunch and even for the metrocable and metrotrain tickets back into the city. Once again, contact information was exchanged, and they told me that I had a home in both Medellín and in Zaragoza whenever I wanted to visit. This family’s generosity and kindness was the cherry on top of my trip in Medellín -- and one more bit of proof that Colombians are a truly beautiful people.

The list goes on and on: a friend of a friend recently invited me to a weekend trip to Santa Marta, after just meeting me that very day. A taxi driver invited me to go with his family to a Junior game (Junior is the soccer team here that Barranquilleros are crazy about). I have phone numbers from people I’ve met going home from the U on the bus.

And then there’s my Colombian familia, Sandra, Pablo, and Gaby, who continue to be absolutely amazing. My day simply isn’t complete without sitting on the balcony with them and having a little “chisme time” as we listen to music.

How did I get so lucky to land such a chévere living situation, in such a friendly city, in such a gorgeous country?

Barranquilla: the Beginning!

On August 6th, I flew into Barranquilla, the incredibly hot and humid city on the northern coast of Colombia, where I will be living and working for the next ten months. A lot goes on when you move to a new place, especially when that place is located in a foreign country -- new living arrangements, new job, new friendships, new climate, new foods, new methods of transportation, new accents in the language, etc. etc.!

My first day in Barranquilla, I went straight from the airport to la Universidad del Norte, the university I am now working at as an English Teaching Assistant. I toured the campus, met some of my coworkers, got the keys to my office (wow, that makes me feel grown up to have an office), and learned about what my duties would entail as a teaching assistant. Within UniNorte, I work at the Instituto de Idiomas (Language Institute), which offers language-learning programs not only in English, but also in German, Portuguese, Italian, French, and Mandarin. I love love LOVE working in such an international environment. I share my office with a Brazilian girl, our neighbor is from England, down the hall are two professors from Germany, and there are a couple other gringos from the U.S. as well. Of course, I work with Colombians, too!!

I couldn´t have been any luckier with how my living arrangement here played out. UniNorte had arranged for me to visit three different apartments on my first day in Barranquilla, and then I could choose the one I liked best for temporary housing until I found something on my own. But as it turns out, I won´t need to look further for another living arrangement - because where I am now fits me perfectly. I live with a Colombian woman, Sandra, who has become like an older sister, mother, teacher, and friend all in one. My Colombian "familia" includes not only Sandra, but her 12 year old daughter, Gaby, as well as her best friend, Pablo, who is 25 and hangs out with us in the apartment all the time.

Mi familia colombiana, just before enjoying ajiaco, a typical Colombian soup that Sandra had prepared for all of us!

My first day, Sandra and Pablo took me to the Colombian equivalent of a Super Walmart, so that we could buy some groceries. As we were walking through the alcohol section, Sandra and Pablo grabbed two cans of beer out of one of the fridges, and then asked if I wanted one, too. I replied with a "sure," thinking that the beer would be for later - but nope! They opened the cans right then and there, and we drank our beer as we continued grocery shopping!

Wait, WHAT!?!? You can drink beer from the store, as you shop, before paying for it? -- Claro que sí!!!! This is Barranquilla, Colombia! Salud!!!

What else is it like to live in Barranquilla?

My shower doesn´t have different temperature settings - there´s just one knob, for water. With 90 degree weather every single day of the year, there´s no point in taking a hot shower - you´d just get out sweating.

Traffic "rules" include honking as you approach an intersection or to warn pedestrians that you´ll run them over if they don´t move. If you´re not the driver, seat belts are optional, and sometimes, completely nonexistent: I have been in cars where, out of habit, I reach back to buckle up, and there is no belt to be found. People on the street will splash your car´s front window with soapy water and squeegy it off, hoping to earn some Colombian pesos, unless you vigorously wave your finger NO at them as they are approaching you. Of course, those who are moving throughout the city via donkey and cart don´t need to worry about that!

There´s really no such thing as a "quiet hour" or curfew in apartment buildings. There is always, always music playing, and if you hear a party going on, then the proper reaction would be: Why didn´t they invite me??? 

The mosquitoes love my gringa blood, and for some really odd reason, even more so from my right foot than from my left foot. Last week, I had one or more mosquito bites on every single toe on my right foot; this week, they decided to enjoy the skin on top of my right foot. My left foot? Eh, just a couple bites now and then...

When it rains here (which it does pretty much every day), it pours. And along with the downpours, come the arroyos: the rivers that pass through the streets because the drainage systems aren´t quick enough to catch up
to the heavy rains. The arroyos, when really, really bad, can sweep away cars, humans,or pretty much anything in their path. One day, Iris (fellow Fulbrighter here in Barranquilla) and I braved the rainy weather to go exploring, and crossed some arroyitos, or little arroyos. In order to cross one particular arroyo, which was deeper and running much faster than the arroyitos we had walked through before, a man wheeled us in a cart from one side of the street to the middle of the street, where a homemade bridge of simple wooden boards set across stone blocks, spanned the remainder of the street. I don´t intend on letting any arroyos swallow me whole while I am living in Barranquilla, so thank goodness for this man´s arroyo-crossing invention!!

Luckily, right now the skies are sunny and I don´t think I´ll have to battle any arroyos on my way out of work. More curiosities of mi vida Barranquillera to come!!

Here it is... EL BLOG.

To blog or not to blog? That was the question. And after telling many a-people that I probably would not start a blog, since I could easily picture myself starting one and then abandoning it later, here I am -- writing my first entry. There are too many things about Colombia that I feel I should share with the world, because, after all, as a Fulbrighter, part of my duty is to engage in a cross-cultural exchange. So, as I blog my adventures and experiences, I hope that you, too, can be part of this cross-cultural exchange (at least vicariously through me). Here it is...el blog! Vamos!

My first week in Colombia -- and first experience ever in South America -- was spent in Bogotá, where all of us Fulbright students, scholars, and ETAs (English Teaching Assistants) gathered for orientation. We learned about Colombia´s history and politics, its education system, and its culture, through various presentations that the Fulbright Commission in Colombia had arranged for us. Probably the best part of the orientation seminar was that we Fulbrighters were able to get to know each other a lot better, to the point that it felt bittersweet when we all had to go our separate ways to get to our respective cities in Colombia. We do, however, plan to visit one another in each of our cities, as well as reunite in my Colombian city, Barranquilla, during its famous festival: Carnaval!!!!!

Since I was so slow to start the whole blog thingamabob, I have spent almost two weeks in Colombia already, which means almost two weeks of catching up to do! So here are some random tidbits about my time in Bogotá that I´d like to share with you, and then some other day, I´ll write about my experiences in Barranquilla thus far...

in Bogotá....

1. The potholes. Walking around the city, one of the first things I noticed was all the potholes in the streets and sidewalks. Some look like they lead to China, and others are like an in-ground trash bin; some were caused by erosion over time, and others clearly were meant to be there, but with some sort of metal covering. Before, having solid cement under my feet was not something that came to mind when I thought of typical American priveledges, but after walking around Bogotá, I appreciate the municipal infrastructure of the American cities I have walked in to a much greater degree. (note: So far, I have not noticed the pothole problem in Barranquilla.)

2. The street vendors. On every street, vendors were selling fruits, Colombian junk foods, or cell phone minutes. Probably 90% of these vendors all had the same bright, multi-colored umbrella over their goods.

3. The national pride. I didn´t expect this (probably because of the bad rep that Colombia has in America), but there seems to be a strong sense of national pride in Colombia. There were Colombian flags flying all over the place in Bogotá. And this sounds silly, but I have never loved a flag so much. Colombia´s flag is simple, but beautiful: three bold stripes, yellow at the top, blue in the middle, and red at the bottom (and the yellow stripe is a little bit wider than the other two). After reading about the meaning behind the colors, I learned that the yellow represents the land and gold of Colombia, the blue, the seas that surround it, and the red, the blood shed in order to give Colombia its freedom from Spain. Since Spain´s flag is yellow and red, the blue stripe between the red and yellow ones on the Colombian flag also represents the ocean between the two countries. Qué linda!

4. The opinions on America. One day during our week in Bogotá, some of us ETAs went to Plaza Bolívar, which is located in the historical center of Bogotá. A few Colombian teenage girls, in their school uniforms, approached a couple of us female ETAs and asked us where we were from. When they found out that we were from the US, they practically screamed with excitement, and when they found out we spoke Spanish, they, again, were suuuper excited, and when they asked us our names, and we told them our names in our native American accents, they, once again, were incredibly excited. They kept calling us "lindas" (pretty) and "perfectas" (perfect). To put it simply, they seemed to adore us just because we were American. What had been just two or three girls quickly turned into a much bigger group of girls, some of which started telling us about their boy problems (and a couple of them were crying about these boy issues even...). Quite the spectacle. After we all took a picture together (and the girls loved this, too), they left, and a man who was selling beaded jewelry approached us. After we ETAs all refused him with a polite "No, thank you" in Spanish, he started to ask us why we were refusing him if we were from the US and people from the US had a lot of money. We tried explaining to him (again, very politely) that we couldn´t just throw money around, but he kept making incredibly snarky comments about how Americans don´t know Spanish (even though we were speaking in Spanish with him and told him that our entire group knew Spanish), and that they have an attitude that he doesn´t like... he was basically against us because we were American (and because we didn´t give him our money). He was the one with the attitude, as he left us with the remark, "America is the worst country in the world and you know it." So within two minutes, we went from a group of teenage girls who LOVED us because we were American, to a man who was disgusted with us because we were American. Having the identity of someone American definitely means something in other parts of the world. I imagine that I´ll encounter other experiences such as these during my time in Colombia.


But for now, that´s all I am going to leave you with! I´m about to meet with my academic coordinator here at my university in Barranquilla. Hasta luego....