A little treat: I made a timelapse of our Dance class today, we were practicing salsa. Didn't turn out quite like i wanted, but you get the idea.
This morning I learned how BAQ generally breaks down into classes/neighborhoods. This isn't official, my instructor just though we should be aware of the norms of shopping and stuff in BAQ.
Calle(s) 84 and up are rich neighborhoods. People living above 84 generally don't have a reason to go below 84. The futher north you go (higher the #) the nicer the neighborhoods, the nicer/more expensive things are, the safer, etc.
Starting at 72 is essentially the 'middle-class'. Housing is cheaper, as well as utilities. Utilities are indicative of the neighborhood's income level, which correlates to crime level in some way (though i don't know how one would get such information). The rich areas Pay more for utilities because it subsidizes the costs of the very poor neighborhoods. Interesting.
Calle 45 this is the middle of the city, and we were advised not to go there alone (if, by some odd chance, we had a reason for going at all). Things are cheaper in this area, but it's not worth the drive, (or bus ride) and it's not worth the risk. This is where the lower-income houses start.
Calle 30. This is essentially where 'the slums' start. It's very cheap here because no one has very much money--I guess it's either because they don't earn much, or they just get robbed all the time ;-).
Calle 17. If calle 30 is the projects, calle 17 marks the beginning of the Bronx, or Harlem, or Compton--you know, one of those places where white folks die. I didn't ask if there is any sort of law enforcement there. It is really close to the river, and people generally stay away. It's dirty, dirt cheap, and destitute. It's like asking to get mugged or worse to go here.
Interesting little discussion.
¡Gringo!
Sunday, June 27, 2010
Saturday, June 26, 2010
Gotta Keep Working...
On my tan. A kid, probably 7 or so, passed me on the sidewalk tonight and said 'Hiiiy Meester!' and kept walking.
I have this dream of some day not being so easily pegged as a Gringo, but these things take time.
I also need to develope a better study ethic. I was going to blog about this over the weekend, but I went dancing instead ;-) which is why the blog titled "making friends vs. Hablar español" doesn't really fit the topic.
I was planning to use that title to explore the conundrum of being in an immersive environment with other english speakers. it becomes so easy to speak more English outside the classroom, instead of stretching my mind to communicate in a foreign language.
There are a lot of people who speak English as well as spanish, but I find that we end up speaking English because my Spanish is next to nothing, and they prefer to practice English. I have a couple of books in spanish now, and it helps me exercise my mouth to read aloud, I can even follow the story to some degree. En Los Estadosunidos, I was told that I'm good at rolling my Rs; here I am corrected several times a day for not putting enough rrrrrrr in my doubleR's. :-)
I have this dream of some day not being so easily pegged as a Gringo, but these things take time.
I also need to develope a better study ethic. I was going to blog about this over the weekend, but I went dancing instead ;-) which is why the blog titled "making friends vs. Hablar español" doesn't really fit the topic.
I was planning to use that title to explore the conundrum of being in an immersive environment with other english speakers. it becomes so easy to speak more English outside the classroom, instead of stretching my mind to communicate in a foreign language.
There are a lot of people who speak English as well as spanish, but I find that we end up speaking English because my Spanish is next to nothing, and they prefer to practice English. I have a couple of books in spanish now, and it helps me exercise my mouth to read aloud, I can even follow the story to some degree. En Los Estadosunidos, I was told that I'm good at rolling my Rs; here I am corrected several times a day for not putting enough rrrrrrr in my doubleR's. :-)
Making Friends vs. Habla Español
Tonight I accidentally told my friend's aunt that she was older than my aunt. These are the good lessons; the ones that really stick are the ones where you embarrass yourself thoroughly and into not making the same mistake again. this lesson: too much positivity can be negative when you don't know the language.
I went with my friend Kike and his girlfriend to a dance/kareoke fiesta. Apparently I was pretty popular there, though only 3 or 4 people spoke to me. One of those people was Carlos, who has some mental problems, and told me in broken english 'I'll help you with Spanish and you help me learn English. I am for USA. I need deniro, I am unique." he went on to tell me how his family needs money to move to los estados unidos, where he can be "full-contact". When it was time for kareoke, I was voted onto the stage only to learn that they didn't have anything in English. They asked me to sing some Michael Jackson, a capella. I didn't trust my pipes. I guess that's the point of Kareoke though, huh? Maybe next time. I excused myself from the stage.
The police came and shut us down around 12:30am so I decided to join my classmates on Calle 84--the club district? The place I met them at was small and cramped, so we moved on down the street.
Let me just say that being in a foreign country definitely has its perks, especially when your group has other foreigners: Trinidadians (beautiful women!) and a Brit. Add a couple of beautiful locals, and a smooth-talking, savvy, Colombiano clubber (from one of the host families) to the group and what you get is not only free admission to the nicest clubs, but also lots of attention from the managers.
Our friend told the bouncer that we were Ambassadors, or Consuls from our respective countries, and we were in without a hitch. Someone gave me a heads up that that was the story, so when the manager came to take us to a table I decided to be a little bit pouty/snooty. He gestured to our corner and I kinda turned up my nose and looked around the club before 'settling' for the table he chose. Based strictly on body language, I think this kinda made him nervous. He wanted to make sure we were happy, so drinks, on the house, were immediately forthcoming (don't worry, I never touch the stuff). The manager came back several times: once to move the tables next to us to give us more floorspace for dancing, several times with juice, alcohol, water, ice, etc. And twice to ask me if everything was okay.
Luckily the atmosphere was loud enough that he couldn't hear my awful Spanish, and I just sort of nodded in a 'sure-sure' fashion and mumbled 'Gracias, es bueno. Gracias.' and he would leave us without ask anything else. Whew! I imagine a consul would be able to understand and speak Spanish pretty well.... Anyway, I have to wonder if that story will ever work on them again; we pretty much made ourselves apparent mooches. We didn't leave in style or anything.
We are going to Cartagena next weekend, for some site-seeing and cultural experiences. I'm sure we can pull off the same story there. Woot!
I went with my friend Kike and his girlfriend to a dance/kareoke fiesta. Apparently I was pretty popular there, though only 3 or 4 people spoke to me. One of those people was Carlos, who has some mental problems, and told me in broken english 'I'll help you with Spanish and you help me learn English. I am for USA. I need deniro, I am unique." he went on to tell me how his family needs money to move to los estados unidos, where he can be "full-contact
The police came and shut us down around 12:30am so I decided to join my classmates on Calle 84--the club district? The place I met them at was small and cramped, so we moved on down the street.
Let me just say that being in a foreign country definitely has its perks, especially when your group has other foreigners: Trinidadians (beautiful women!) and a Brit. Add a couple of beautiful locals, and a smooth-talking, savvy, Colombiano clubber (from one of the host families) to the group and what you get is not only free admission to the nicest clubs, but also lots of attention from the managers.
Our friend told the bouncer that we were Ambassadors, or Consuls from our respective countries, and we were in without a hitch. Someone gave me a heads up that that was the story, so when the manager came to take us to a table I decided to be a little bit pouty/snooty. He gestured to our corner and I kinda turned up my nose and looked around the club before 'settling' for the table he chose. Based strictly on body language, I think this kinda made him nervous. He wanted to make sure we were happy, so drinks, on the house, were immediately forthcoming (don't worry, I never touch the stuff). The manager came back several times: once to move the tables next to us to give us more floorspace for dancing, several times with juice, alcohol, water, ice, etc. And twice to ask me if everything was okay.
Luckily the atmosphere was loud enough that he couldn't hear my awful Spanish, and I just sort of nodded in a 'sure-sure' fashion and mumbled 'Gracias, es bueno. Gracias.' and he would leave us without ask anything else. Whew! I imagine a consul would be able to understand and speak Spanish pretty well.... Anyway, I have to wonder if that story will ever work on them again; we pretty much made ourselves apparent mooches. We didn't leave in style or anything.
We are going to Cartagena next weekend, for some site-seeing and cultural experiences. I'm sure we can pull off the same story there. Woot!
Friday, June 25, 2010
Thursday, June 24, 2010
Barranquilla Carnival Office
Barranquilla is famous for a massive street carnival held every year, a few of us went to check out the offices.
Hey! Big hug!
A good friend I had never met before, who happened to be a statue
Got your nose!
I used to be in the carnival myself once, you know.... I developed an impressive skill at slight of hand.
Tuesday, June 22, 2010
Monday, June 21, 2010
Primero Dia de Escuela
Okay. ...okay.
Today was the first day of classes, and, as I suspected, I was placed at the wrong level. My reading comprehension for Spanish is at the intermidiate level. But my listening/speaking/vocabulary/writing are all at square1. Nada. I take comfort in the fact that after less than a week, I am already starting to recognize about twice as many words as before. Okay, maybe not THAT much of an improvement. More like I've learned 15 or so of the most common words.
Today I learned that Barranquillans don't believe in pronouncing S sounds. And they don't differiate between their y/j/ll sounds. Really lazy spanish! I think i'll get it though. My new friend Harold has volunteered to be a walking, talking spanish-english dictionary. He's got pretty good English. He's an English teacher for an international company, and for something like 6-10th grade.
¡gringo!
Today was the first day of classes, and, as I suspected, I was placed at the wrong level. My reading comprehension for Spanish is at the intermidiate level. But my listening/speaking/vocabulary/writing are all at square1. Nada. I take comfort in the fact that after less than a week, I am already starting to recognize about twice as many words as before. Okay, maybe not THAT much of an improvement. More like I've learned 15 or so of the most common words.
Today I learned that Barranquillans don't believe in pronouncing S sounds. And they don't differiate between their y/j/ll sounds. Really lazy spanish! I think i'll get it though. My new friend Harold has volunteered to be a walking, talking spanish-english dictionary. He's got pretty good English. He's an English teacher for an international company, and for something like 6-10th grade.
¡gringo!
Sunday, June 20, 2010
Tengo Gozo en mi Alma Hoy
Today I woke up to a thunderstorm, and a puddle about a half-inch deep on my bedroom floor; the open window let the rain in at the foot of my bed and I was entirely oblivious.
I scrolled through the phone my aunt gave me at the family reunion in California for the phone number for a member of the church here: Ben. Last night my recently-arrived-and-freshly-innebriated flat-mate, Fiona (from England) mentioned that he had called last month to see when I would be in BAQ: '...He spoke VERY good English.'
He's from New Zealand.
When Ben answered he seemed glad to hear from me, if not disappointed that I hadn't called when I first arrived: '...we could have played futbol or something!'
He offered to meet me at the corner by McDonald's and walk with me to the church building. That gave me a half hour to get ready and catch a cab before church started. The streets were streamlets and rivers, depending on the incline, and I think my taxi driver charged me extra, knowing I would rather not walk in it.
Ben is a really nice guy, we chatted on our walk to the church. He doted almost as much as my aunt about how I had gotten along since arriving.
'...you know Spanish, then?'
"hardly."
I've come to terms with the fact that I am 100% Gringo.
When we got to the church, he introduced me to several people who speak English. He even told one of them--Dan--to translate the Elder's quorum lesson for me. The lesson was on the Atonement, and frankly, a simplified translation of it was Exactly what I needed. I guess I had developed a bit of a Jonas complex since leaving the U.S., even though it's only been 5 days.
Having it translated offered some refreshing insight, the choice of words was jarring and humbling, yet plain and simple. After the lesson, someone stood up to give a brief thought on what 'success' means. To my wonderment, i understood nearly EVERYTHING he said. I translated it for Dan, just to make sure I was correct. 'You understood all of that!'
Awesome.
For Sunday school, Kike translated for me. Again, I found that I could generally understand the discussion.
'what qualities would you look for in a prospective spouse, or friend?'
We listed some off--the usuals.
• spirituality
• compassion
• zest for life
• sense of humor
• responsibility
• etc.
'can you expect these things in a spouse (or friend) if you do not have these characteristics as well?'
No.
Back for Sacrament meeting, I again found myself bewildered at my inability to understand ANYTHING the speakers were saying. My new friend, Harold, translated for me. We traded scriptures so we could each practice our different languages.
It turns out that the two speakers I was able to understand were both from different cities than Barranquilla. This kinda worries me, but explains a lot. I was able to follow conversations in Bogotà to a limited extent, but even simple sentences in BAQ are difficult for me.
I know you tried to warn me, aunt Chelly. I just didn't think it would be THIS extreme.
I made some new friends; we're going to play fútbol on tuesday. I'm grateful in so many ways to have the church in my life. Despite the torrential rain, there is sunshine in my soul today.
I scrolled through the phone my aunt gave me at the family reunion in California for the phone number for a member of the church here: Ben. Last night my recently-arrived-and-freshly-innebriated flat-mate, Fiona (from England) mentioned that he had called last month to see when I would be in BAQ: '...He spoke VERY good English.'
He's from New Zealand.
When Ben answered he seemed glad to hear from me, if not disappointed that I hadn't called when I first arrived: '...we could have played futbol or something!'
He offered to meet me at the corner by McDonald's and walk with me to the church building. That gave me a half hour to get ready and catch a cab before church started. The streets were streamlets and rivers, depending on the incline, and I think my taxi driver charged me extra, knowing I would rather not walk in it.
Ben is a really nice guy, we chatted on our walk to the church. He doted almost as much as my aunt about how I had gotten along since arriving.
'...you know Spanish, then?'
"hardly."
I've come to terms with the fact that I am 100% Gringo.
When we got to the church, he introduced me to several people who speak English. He even told one of them--Dan--to translate the Elder's quorum lesson for me. The lesson was on the Atonement, and frankly, a simplified translation of it was Exactly what I needed. I guess I had developed a bit of a Jonas complex since leaving the U.S., even though it's only been 5 days.
Having it translated offered some refreshing insight, the choice of words was jarring and humbling, yet plain and simple. After the lesson, someone stood up to give a brief thought on what 'success' means. To my wonderment, i understood nearly EVERYTHING he said. I translated it for Dan, just to make sure I was correct. 'You understood all of that!'
Awesome.
For Sunday school, Kike translated for me. Again, I found that I could generally understand the discussion.
'what qualities would you look for in a prospective spouse, or friend?'
We listed some off--the usuals.
• spirituality
• compassion
• zest for life
• sense of humor
• responsibility
• etc.
'can you expect these things in a spouse (or friend) if you do not have these characteristics as well?'
No.
Back for Sacrament meeting, I again found myself bewildered at my inability to understand ANYTHING the speakers were saying. My new friend, Harold, translated for me. We traded scriptures so we could each practice our different languages.
It turns out that the two speakers I was able to understand were both from different cities than Barranquilla. This kinda worries me, but explains a lot. I was able to follow conversations in Bogotà to a limited extent, but even simple sentences in BAQ are difficult for me.
I know you tried to warn me, aunt Chelly. I just didn't think it would be THIS extreme.
I made some new friends; we're going to play fútbol on tuesday. I'm grateful in so many ways to have the church in my life. Despite the torrential rain, there is sunshine in my soul today.
Mi Viaje: Part III
As we touched down in Bogotá, I gathered my things. I don't like to check baggage; I packed everything in a carry-on duffel bag and a knock-off Camelbak. I have to admit I had a pang of nervousness, mostly about immigration, and the possibility of needing a 99-day visa (I was approved by the universidad for a 1-month student visa, my return flights are 99 days from my date of entry, meaning I had 69 days unaccounted for).
The first thing I noticed when I stepped off the plane was the Perfect temperature. The second thing, I have to say, was the beautiful women. Almost everyone had absolutely stunning eyes. I joined up with Johnnie and Juan Pablo (it turns out these were their real names). We stood in the long line for immigration and chit-chatted. Johnnie described the girls very well: 'smoldering eyes'. Si.
Juan Pablo asked me what I was doing in Colombia, and I told him about my arrangement with mi tia, and my plans for bouncing around the country. Johnnie expounded on their own 'plan without a plan' to spend a month mingling with and interviewing the locals from different classes, and hopefully coming away with enough material to form a thesis project. Juan is majoring in Journalism, and Johnnie in Political Science.
Apparently a former president of Colombia was on the same flight as us, and there was a slight hubub as he passed through for immigration.
At the baggage claim, Juan asked what my plans were and I told him I was going to find a hostel close to the airport.
'...well, if you want, you can come with us. My grandmother lives here in Bogotá, it's not close, but it's free.'
"uh. Well, I fly out tomorrow at 5. If I could get back here in time to get minutes on my phone and stuff--"
'oh yeah, easy. 5pm?'
"yes."
'yeah totally. Her house is only about a 20 minute ride'.
"awesome. Well... If it's not immposing, that would be great."
The first thing I noticed when I stepped off the plane was the Perfect temperature. The second thing, I have to say, was the beautiful women. Almost everyone had absolutely stunning eyes. I joined up with Johnnie and Juan Pablo (it turns out these were their real names). We stood in the long line for immigration and chit-chatted. Johnnie described the girls very well: 'smoldering eyes'. Si.
Juan Pablo asked me what I was doing in Colombia, and I told him about my arrangement with mi tia, and my plans for bouncing around the country. Johnnie expounded on their own 'plan without a plan' to spend a month mingling with and interviewing the locals from different classes, and hopefully coming away with enough material to form a thesis project. Juan is majoring in Journalism, and Johnnie in Political Science.
Apparently a former president of Colombia was on the same flight as us, and there was a slight hubub as he passed through for immigration.
At the baggage claim, Juan asked what my plans were and I told him I was going to find a hostel close to the airport.
'...well, if you want, you can come with us. My grandmother lives here in Bogotá, it's not close, but it's free.'
"uh. Well, I fly out tomorrow at 5. If I could get back here in time to get minutes on my phone and stuff--"
'oh yeah, easy. 5pm?'
"yes."
'yeah totally. Her house is only about a 20 minute ride'.
"awesome. Well... If it's not immposing, that would be great."
Mi Viaje: Part II
I decided not to concern myself further with the runaways.
The kiosk for the gate opened and I went up with everyone else and got my passport checked. I also got my boarding pass reprinted, as my over-nighter in Vegas had left it cripplingly crumpled. I finished checking in and returned to my seat.
Presently, another duo of travellers, these looking to be my age, came and sat across from me. The first one, who wore glasses and a little scruff, said to the second one 'wanna sit with the bags while I check in, and I'll watch 'em while you check in?'. He seemed familiar with the process. I couldn't help myself...
"Is Bogotá your final stop?" I asked the second one, this time with no pretense.
'yep!'
"whatcha gonna do there?"
He grinned big 'just... Mess around for a while.'
He had a bandana around his head, and he was flipping through a book called "Cinco novelitas y un cuento".
I figured they were looking for an adventure in one form or another; They seemed the transient type.
When we finally boarded the plane (I say 'finally', but it actually went pretty quickly) I was sitting across from them (the other two were in first class). I ended up having all 3 seats on my side to myself. I started my iPhone timelapse and put it in the window. I had a couple more exchanges with the second one--the one with the book--(we'll call him "Johnnie", and the other "Juan") but eventually I let him be.
The flight was over before I knew it, and I mean that in a figurative way. As the captain announced our descent into Bogotá, I leaned across the isle and struck up the conversation with Johnnie again...
"you guys stayin at a hostel or something--Wanna share a cab?"
'uh... I'm not sure exactly what our plans are. I'll have to ask him.' He jerked his thumb towards Juan, who was chatting with the guy in the window seat in español. 'I know his grandma lives about a half hour from the airport but I don't know what our plan is, you wanna grab a beer or something?'
"ah, no thanks..."
'alright, uh?... Yeah well I'll let you know what we decide, definitely."
Man, I really am a horrible conversationist.
The kiosk for the gate opened and I went up with everyone else and got my passport checked. I also got my boarding pass reprinted, as my over-nighter in Vegas had left it cripplingly crumpled. I finished checking in and returned to my seat.
Presently, another duo of travellers, these looking to be my age, came and sat across from me. The first one, who wore glasses and a little scruff, said to the second one 'wanna sit with the bags while I check in, and I'll watch 'em while you check in?'. He seemed familiar with the process. I couldn't help myself...
"Is Bogotá your final stop?" I asked the second one, this time with no pretense.
'yep!'
"whatcha gonna do there?"
He grinned big 'just... Mess around for a while.'
He had a bandana around his head, and he was flipping through a book called "Cinco novelitas y un cuento".
I figured they were looking for an adventure in one form or another; They seemed the transient type.
When we finally boarded the plane (I say 'finally', but it actually went pretty quickly) I was sitting across from them (the other two were in first class). I ended up having all 3 seats on my side to myself. I started my iPhone timelapse and put it in the window. I had a couple more exchanges with the second one--the one with the book--(we'll call him "Johnnie", and the other "Juan") but eventually I let him be.
The flight was over before I knew it, and I mean that in a figurative way. As the captain announced our descent into Bogotá, I leaned across the isle and struck up the conversation with Johnnie again...
"you guys stayin at a hostel or something--Wanna share a cab?"
'uh... I'm not sure exactly what our plans are. I'll have to ask him.' He jerked his thumb towards Juan, who was chatting with the guy in the window seat in español. 'I know his grandma lives about a half hour from the airport but I don't know what our plan is, you wanna grab a beer or something?'
"ah, no thanks..."
'alright, uh?... Yeah well I'll let you know what we decide, definitely."
Man, I really am a horrible conversationist.
Mi Viaje; Part I
I had a great experience on my way here to BAQ. I'll probably take 2 posts to recount it, just to keep this blog simple and episodic.
We start in Houston Airport (I started in Sacramento, but I'll spare you the details of my delays and layovers).
Houston was my shortest layover on my entire series of flights. This is due to the fact that, in the interest of saving money, I booked my flights in 3 seperate legs: SAC to Las Vegas; Vegas, Houston, Bogotá; and Bogotá to Barranquilla.
As I came to the waiting area at the gate for my flight to Bogotá, I noticed two boys, dressed in white collared shirts and sweatervests, sitting at the far end of the waiting area. They looked to be in their late teens. I had to charge my electronics so I went to the power outlets by them.
"Bogotá, huh?", I said, feigning familiarity with international travel.
The boys darted glances at eachother which I at first interpreted to be surprise at being spoken to. One of them turned to look out the window and the other nodded in the affirmative before he turning away as well. I forgave them for not giving me the benefit of the doubt, and overlooking my ineptitude as a conversationalist. I guess they didn't want to talk. Oh well, at least we established that we were all certain that we were at the correct gate for a scheduled departure to a place called Bogotá.
A little while later the more communicative of the two came over to plug in his phone. I decided to try again.
"...What's in Colombia?" Now he seemed positively distressed as he looked back at his buddy, who offered no support.
"well... His uncle lives there...."
"ah. Cool."
He made a hasty retreat. I decided not to bother them any more.
A bit later, his phone started ringing so I pointed to it and said "phone's ringing". He grimmaced and came over for it. He picked it up and read the screen intently; it rang on. His face contorted more with each ring, after 5 or 6, it stopped and he put it down.
As the last hour or so of our wait went on, this happened a few times more. It seemed like they were taking turns rejecting the calls.
I came to the conclusion that they were running away.
We start in Houston Airport (I started in Sacramento, but I'll spare you the details of my delays and layovers).
Houston was my shortest layover on my entire series of flights. This is due to the fact that, in the interest of saving money, I booked my flights in 3 seperate legs: SAC to Las Vegas; Vegas, Houston, Bogotá; and Bogotá to Barranquilla.
As I came to the waiting area at the gate for my flight to Bogotá, I noticed two boys, dressed in white collared shirts and sweatervests, sitting at the far end of the waiting area. They looked to be in their late teens. I had to charge my electronics so I went to the power outlets by them.
"Bogotá, huh?", I said, feigning familiarity with international travel.
The boys darted glances at eachother which I at first interpreted to be surprise at being spoken to. One of them turned to look out the window and the other nodded in the affirmative before he turning away as well. I forgave them for not giving me the benefit of the doubt, and overlooking my ineptitude as a conversationalist. I guess they didn't want to talk. Oh well, at least we established that we were all certain that we were at the correct gate for a scheduled departure to a place called Bogotá.
A little while later the more communicative of the two came over to plug in his phone. I decided to try again.
"...What's in Colombia?" Now he seemed positively distressed as he looked back at his buddy, who offered no support.
"well... His uncle lives there...."
"ah. Cool."
He made a hasty retreat. I decided not to bother them any more.
A bit later, his phone started ringing so I pointed to it and said "phone's ringing". He grimmaced and came over for it. He picked it up and read the screen intently; it rang on. His face contorted more with each ring, after 5 or 6, it stopped and he put it down.
As the last hour or so of our wait went on, this happened a few times more. It seemed like they were taking turns rejecting the calls.
I came to the conclusion that they were running away.
Saturday, June 19, 2010
Across the Street from the Éxito
This tree looks like it could be something from Lord of the Rings. Each of those thorns is about an inch long. My Madrinas said they'd never noticed them before. Guess that's one more way in which I'm a wide-eyed foreigner....
Buenos Dias!
"Avacate, avacate! Mango ...Avacate! ...Ava-avacate-mango!"
Sábado, 9:30 AM. I wake up to the sound of a vendor on the street below me. He passes through pedding his goods door-to-door, calling out for customers. It must be downright exhausting. It struck me today how very well this avacado vendor is able to project his voice. I swear I can hear him from the top of the hill, about 400 yards away.
By the time he is outside my window I am completely awake. And I'm tempted to holler down to him "cuanto?" 'how much?'. But with my luck he might think I mean 'How many are there?', in which case he'll assume that I want to buy the whole lot-- clean him out, just like I did with the milk at the Exito last night.
¡Gringo!
Sábado, 9:30 AM. I wake up to the sound of a vendor on the street below me. He passes through pedding his goods door-to-door, calling out for customers. It must be downright exhausting. It struck me today how very well this avacado vendor is able to project his voice. I swear I can hear him from the top of the hill, about 400 yards away.
By the time he is outside my window I am completely awake. And I'm tempted to holler down to him "cuanto?" 'how much?'. But with my luck he might think I mean 'How many are there?', in which case he'll assume that I want to buy the whole lot-- clean him out, just like I did with the milk at the Exito last night.
¡Gringo!
Mark of the Gringo
Today, in the foodcourt at UniNorte, a girl approached me and asked where I am from. I told her 'USA', she nodded and went back to her seat. I wonder what gave me away! In Utah, a full beard was a rare sight. Here in BAQ, they seem to be virtually non-existant. I am considering shaving it though; if I don't do it soon, I'll have an awful tan line later.
Friday, June 18, 2010
Yo Mucho Gusto Leche en Colombia
To my relief, yet somehow worrisome, I like the taste of the bagged milk in Colombia. It is (I think) reconstituted evaporated milk that doesn't go bad like mere homoginized, pasteurized milk. It keeps at room temperature for a couple of months.
Anyone who knows me should be aware that I love milk. I do; it is a part of who I am. This is usually only a problem when I am sharing a fridge with 5 other people, and there's not enough room for my 3+ gallons per week. Or when I am a guest and my host offers me free access to the fridge, and that host only buys half-gallons of milk. I drink a half gallon in a single sitting--no joke. When I worked for Provo Parks & Rec, I would get doughnuts and a half gallon of milk for breakfast on a regular basis. And I would, without exception, run out of milk before doughnuts.
The worrisome part, then, is not space in the fridge, as it doesn't all have to be stored in a cold place at once. And, as I said before, the taste is preferable to the water here, so that's not a concern. The milk comes in bags which are 1100mL; a little less than 1/3 gallon for $2500COP (or about $1.25USD), so it's much more expensive than milk in USA. That isn't my main concern either. My worry stems from the impracticality of buying 6+ bags each week, and using public transportation to go shopping. The good thing is, I could plausibly buy 15 bags to start off with, and keep a healthy
reserve in the cupboard. Except that, judging by the quantities avaliable at the EXITO today, that would deplete the store of its entire stock. And I don't want to make a name for myself as the 'chupaleche gringo'.
¡Gringo!
Anyone who knows me should be aware that I love milk. I do; it is a part of who I am. This is usually only a problem when I am sharing a fridge with 5 other people, and there's not enough room for my 3+ gallons per week. Or when I am a guest and my host offers me free access to the fridge, and that host only buys half-gallons of milk. I drink a half gallon in a single sitting--no joke. When I worked for Provo Parks & Rec, I would get doughnuts and a half gallon of milk for breakfast on a regular basis. And I would, without exception, run out of milk before doughnuts.
The worrisome part, then, is not space in the fridge, as it doesn't all have to be stored in a cold place at once. And, as I said before, the taste is preferable to the water here, so that's not a concern. The milk comes in bags which are 1100mL; a little less than 1/3 gallon for $2500COP (or about $1.25USD), so it's much more expensive than milk in USA. That isn't my main concern either. My worry stems from the impracticality of buying 6+ bags each week, and using public transportation to go shopping. The good thing is, I could plausibly buy 15 bags to start off with, and keep a healthy
reserve in the cupboard. Except that, judging by the quantities avaliable at the EXITO today, that would deplete the store of its entire stock. And I don't want to make a name for myself as the 'chupaleche gringo'.
¡Gringo!
Outside the Library at Uninorte
This moth looks like it was created by Jim Hensen
It has 3 "arms", (one at it's tail, which is hard to see), each arm has two "fingers". Creeepy.
If I Only Had a Bodark Apple....
No me gusta Mosquitos. Bodark Apples, or "horse apples", are a natural insect repellant in Oklahoma. There has got to be a comparable botanical solution to the insects here in Barranquilla. I'll make it a point to ask a local, but I have a feeling that they're going to look at me like I'm loco. They don't seem to mind the insects. They DO seem slightly nervous of the fact that they are being approached by a Gringo.
Which brings me to my next topic.
I visited the school today. I decided to take a taxi for my first trip there, just so I would know what it looked like and such. The taxi costs $5,000COP, or about $2.50USD. The buses cost about $1000COP (= $0.50USD) so now I'll be taking the bus every day. I am too overwhelmed by the way people drive here to consider a bicycle just yet.
Upon arriving at Uninorte, and after having to whip out el poquito amarillo dicionario to reference the spanish word for "register" ('registro' is like a till, I guess; we were looking for 'lista' or 'matricularse') for the security officer, I got in. First stop: bibliotecha.
"necesito una mapa de campus, por favor?"
Blank stare.
"Estoy nueva estudente de español... tienes una mapa?"
español y manos signales
"ah... No entiendo..."
At this point he went and got someone who spoke English. Perhaps it's just due to my untrained ear, but i think there was very little difference between how I had asked, and how the guy translating said it: 'quires una mapa de universidad.'
Ah... no tengo.
Total conversation length: 1min
Total time before hitting my linguistic brick wall: 30sec
Luckily, a bilingual student came over and said she was going there, and would show me the way. Her English was pretty impressive--the most comprehensive I have heard since arriving in BAQ-- and she was not bashful about telling me I was helpless. As we approached the doors to the building I was looking for, I (being the gentleman that I am), stepped forward to get the door for her. It didn't budge. She pointed to the large lettering on the door:
"...'empuje'. 'Push.' you have a lot to learn!"
After getting most of my paperwork done, I had restored my confidence in myself by knowing and using some 4- and 5-syllable words like 'intercambio' and 'Bancolombia' ;-). I was gracful in my 'thank you's and 'goodbyes'. And, remembering what my guide (I forgot her name!) had said, I pushed on the door. It went about half way before grinding on the sidewalk. I looked down at the big printed letters on the glass door: "Hale", 'Pull'.
That makes sense.
Which brings me to my next topic.
I visited the school today. I decided to take a taxi for my first trip there, just so I would know what it looked like and such. The taxi costs $5,000COP, or about $2.50USD. The buses cost about $1000COP (= $0.50USD) so now I'll be taking the bus every day. I am too overwhelmed by the way people drive here to consider a bicycle just yet.
Upon arriving at Uninorte, and after having to whip out el poquito amarillo dicionario to reference the spanish word for "register" ('registro' is like a till, I guess; we were looking for 'lista' or 'matricularse') for the security officer, I got in. First stop: bibliotecha.
"necesito una mapa de campus, por favor?"
Blank stare.
"Estoy nueva estudente de español... tienes una mapa?"
español y manos signales
"ah... No entiendo..."
At this point he went and got someone who spoke English. Perhaps it's just due to my untrained ear, but i think there was very little difference between how I had asked, and how the guy translating said it: 'quires una mapa de universidad.'
Ah... no tengo.
Total conversation length: 1min
Total time before hitting my linguistic brick wall: 30sec
Luckily, a bilingual student came over and said she was going there, and would show me the way. Her English was pretty impressive--the most comprehensive I have heard since arriving in BAQ-- and she was not bashful about telling me I was helpless. As we approached the doors to the building I was looking for, I (being the gentleman that I am), stepped forward to get the door for her. It didn't budge. She pointed to the large lettering on the door:
"...'empuje'. 'Push.' you have a lot to learn!"
After getting most of my paperwork done, I had restored my confidence in myself by knowing and using some 4- and 5-syllable words like 'intercambio' and 'Bancolombia' ;-). I was gracful in my 'thank you's and 'goodbyes'. And, remembering what my guide (I forgot her name!) had said, I pushed on the door. It went about half way before grinding on the sidewalk. I looked down at the big printed letters on the glass door: "Hale", 'Pull'.
That makes sense.
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