So it's the first of August. And it's still raining. The weather supposedly dries up here around the second or third week of July. I don't know if that's true or just wishful thinking. Anyway, I'm fine with moisture, but it would be nice to forget about the Mosquitos.
I got a mosquito net from a friend and hung it above a week ago. My bed looks fitting for a Disney princess, what with all the draped and flowing white material. Yet still, I have bites all over my ankles. I guess they dine while I'm sitting around, which I have to admit, I've been doing a lot of recently. I need something engaging, that connects me with spanish-speakers. When I'm in a sink-or-swim situation, I surprise myself with my Spanish (which lands me somewhere around 'sputtering/barely afloat'). But whereas I initially had nothing to say, now I find myself with no one to speak to. People will turn away without a glance if I try to engage them. Not just anybody, usually I need info from someone. But they seem to panic and either gesture everything or don't respond. Or else they respond by rattling off one or two phrases at about a mile a minute. Saying "como?" doesn't seem to indicate that they might slow down, and indeed they may feel that they now have to speak faster, to make up for the lost time in their first attempt. Their response though, is usually to wag their heads no and turn away. Okay, not true. They also point to someone they believe to understand English. But rarely do they consider speaking slowly and deliberately to me. I don't know why i find it easier to understand conversations between others. Perhaps because I have some anxiety when they are speaking dieectly to me, that i don't have when i'm simply a bystander. I like to think I'm learning Spanish on w subconscious level, which will eventually surface suddenly and be like a new car (or sailboat) that I can't wait to try out on the open road/in the open sea.
Speaking of boats. I've been feeling so eager to get one lately. Especially since finding work. I have been daydreaming about buying a solid hull with good rigging, and spending hours on end reworking the interior. More than anything, I just want to get out on the water. I emailed a guy the other day who is on his second circumnavigation, just to see if he wants a penpal type person to corrospond with, and to give me a vicarious experience. We'll see.
In two weeks I fly to panama for 5 days to renew my tourist visa here in Colombia. I intend to look for a short-handed captain who wouldn't mind the company, and who'll let me tag along through the canal and all the way to Cartagena. Crossing my fingers, Ts and eyes.
¡Gringo!
Saturday, July 31, 2010
Thursday, July 22, 2010
Nos fuimos a Santa Marta III
One thing I'll say about The Hotel Bahia: the AC worked. The TV was a bit fussy, and the Wi-Fi was patchy, but the AC worked. The beds had a flat sheet and a thin knitted afghan on a bare mattress, but the AC worked. The bathroom was tiled floor to ceiling, and the shower was just a showerhead and drain adjacent to the comode, but the AC worked.
We went to a couple of beaches the next day. Santa Marta beach seems less salty than Puerto Colombia and Cartagena--even Taganga, but we'll get to that later. We spend some time at la Playa Blanca, cerca Rodadero, as well.
That night we were(or at least I was) dertermined to find The Dreamer Hostel. So, after getting a little better idea of it's whereabouts, we resumed the search.
We decided that since it was, according to our new information, "...mere steps away from Buenavista, in the centro of Santa Marta" that we would start at buenavista, and search for it on foot. After about 20 minutes, we were pretty certain that it was not anywhere we were looking. We asked some folks and they tried to direct us to a hotel.
'it doesn't exist. That's why they call it the DREAMER Hostel....' said kevin ' why are you so determined to find this place? There are plenty of cheap hotels...'
"because, it's not about price at this point. It's not even about the Dreamer Hostel. At this point, it's for the quest, and the satisfaction of finding it"
'Hmmm...'
"when we find it, you're going to be so glad we kept looking."
We decided to look on the opposite side of buenavista. Just as we were about to head down a new street, a taxi driver stopped to offer his services. We asked if he knew of The Dreamer Hostel, and he said 'the place where all the gringos camp?... It's just over there...'
We kept walking, and asked some men sitting on the sidewalk what street we were on, they seemed to sense that we were travelling (maybe our backpacks gave us away) the jerked their thumbs in the direction of the neighborhood behind them, and told us it was straight and then left. We walked a couple of blocks straight, and then turned left. Kevin made a comment about the high fence around a basketball court obscuring our view of the building behind it (we were looking for a wall with The Dreamer Hostel painted on it) 'oh man, what if that's the place we're looking for and we walked right past it because we couldn't see the wall...' The probability of that being the case, especially given our failure to locate it thus far, was duely noted, and as we reached the corner of the block, I suggested that we check to make sure, so we wouldn't feel like idiots if we ended up having to come back.
'yeah, how can we not... Omigodomigod! It's here. It's $&8?) here! What did I say? What did I tell you? Yeeah!'
Before we even saw the words, there was the painting of an orange sun and crescent blue moon wearing a traditional Colombian sombrero vueltiao.
"I knew we'd find it. And I knew you'd be this excited."
Words cannot describe the surreal experience of opening the door to the sound of music and laughter, and conversation. There was a glow from the center of the courtyard--a swimming pool, and it's reflections were dancing on the walls and faces surrounding it. The proprietor, Miguel, met us as we entered: 'Buenas! Como estan?' We were finally there! We booked two beds -the last two- and settled in for some slightly-more-than-slightly-burnt popcorn and a movie.
We went to a couple of beaches the next day. Santa Marta beach seems less salty than Puerto Colombia and Cartagena--even Taganga, but we'll get to that later. We spend some time at la Playa Blanca, cerca Rodadero, as well.
That night we were(or at least I was) dertermined to find The Dreamer Hostel. So, after getting a little better idea of it's whereabouts, we resumed the search.
We decided that since it was, according to our new information, "...mere steps away from Buenavista, in the centro of Santa Marta" that we would start at buenavista, and search for it on foot. After about 20 minutes, we were pretty certain that it was not anywhere we were looking. We asked some folks and they tried to direct us to a hotel.
'it doesn't exist. That's why they call it the DREAMER Hostel....' said kevin ' why are you so determined to find this place? There are plenty of cheap hotels...'
"because, it's not about price at this point. It's not even about the Dreamer Hostel. At this point, it's for the quest, and the satisfaction of finding it"
'Hmmm...'
"when we find it, you're going to be so glad we kept looking."
We decided to look on the opposite side of buenavista. Just as we were about to head down a new street, a taxi driver stopped to offer his services. We asked if he knew of The Dreamer Hostel, and he said 'the place where all the gringos camp?... It's just over there...'
We kept walking, and asked some men sitting on the sidewalk what street we were on, they seemed to sense that we were travelling (maybe our backpacks gave us away) the jerked their thumbs in the direction of the neighborhood behind them, and told us it was straight and then left. We walked a couple of blocks straight, and then turned left. Kevin made a comment about the high fence around a basketball court obscuring our view of the building behind it (we were looking for a wall with The Dreamer Hostel painted on it) 'oh man, what if that's the place we're looking for and we walked right past it because we couldn't see the wall...' The probability of that being the case, especially given our failure to locate it thus far, was duely noted, and as we reached the corner of the block, I suggested that we check to make sure, so we wouldn't feel like idiots if we ended up having to come back.
'yeah, how can we not... Omigodomigod! It's here. It's $&8?) here! What did I say? What did I tell you? Yeeah!'
Before we even saw the words, there was the painting of an orange sun and crescent blue moon wearing a traditional Colombian sombrero vueltiao.
"I knew we'd find it. And I knew you'd be this excited."
Words cannot describe the surreal experience of opening the door to the sound of music and laughter, and conversation. There was a glow from the center of the courtyard--a swimming pool, and it's reflections were dancing on the walls and faces surrounding it. The proprietor, Miguel, met us as we entered: 'Buenas! Como estan?' We were finally there! We booked two beds -the last two- and settled in for some slightly-more-than-slightly-burnt popcorn and a movie.
Sunday, July 18, 2010
Nos Fuimos a Santa Marta II
After rodadero, me and Kevin caught a taxi to Santa Marta. The plan was to stay at a hostel my friends from bogotá had recommended to me after they visited it a couple weeks ago. I remembered having found it on my "hostelfinder" application right after I got my iPhone back in April. I had looked it up that day and gotten the address for it. We had been told by the puerta a routa driver that the first one didn't exist, so we decided it must be the second one. Our cab driver was unable to find the address we gave him, and didn't know what a hostel is, so we tried to explain it to him:"it's like a hotel, but more cheap..."
'ah... Las hoteles económicos son en el centro, cerca la playa'
"no... We need the one at carrera 16 con calle 5"
he looked for it, asked several pedestrians for directions, and eventually told us we might be better off getting another taxi, with a local driver who may know where it was we were looking for. He only asked for 4 Mil, instead of the 9 he quoted us in Rodadero. We decided we'd walk around a bit and see if we might happen upon The Dreamer's Hostel. So, following my trusty sense of direction, we set off. We walked for about 20 or 30 minutes before we hailed another cab.He seemed to think he might know where we needed to go. About 4 blocks later (in the exact same direction we had just walked from--so much for my internal compass) he pulled over, turned the car off, and said something in spanish as he tapped his jugular on the side of his neck. I didn't really understand what was going on. His car had broken down. Oooh... I thought he was going to rob us. We caught another taxi, and when he didn't know The Dreamer's Hostel, we asked for a cheap hotel close to the beach. We had given up on Rhe Dreamer's Hostel, but only for that night.
We got a room--air conditioned-- for only $45.000. Okay, great. And free wi-fi.
To Be Continued
'ah... Las hoteles económicos son en el centro, cerca la playa'
"no... We need the one at carrera 16 con calle 5"
he looked for it, asked several pedestrians for directions, and eventually told us we might be better off getting another taxi, with a local driver who may know where it was we were looking for. He only asked for 4 Mil, instead of the 9 he quoted us in Rodadero. We decided we'd walk around a bit and see if we might happen upon The Dreamer's Hostel. So, following my trusty sense of direction, we set off. We walked for about 20 or 30 minutes before we hailed another cab.He seemed to think he might know where we needed to go. About 4 blocks later (in the exact same direction we had just walked from--so much for my internal compass) he pulled over, turned the car off, and said something in spanish as he tapped his jugular on the side of his neck. I didn't really understand what was going on. His car had broken down. Oooh... I thought he was going to rob us. We caught another taxi, and when he didn't know The Dreamer's Hostel, we asked for a cheap hotel close to the beach. We had given up on Rhe Dreamer's Hostel, but only for that night.
We got a room--air conditioned-- for only $45.000. Okay, great. And free wi-fi.
To Be Continued
Saturday, July 17, 2010
Nos Fuimos a Santa Marta
Saturday morning: I woke up a little after 8, and packed my backpack. I got to the universidad at 8:56. Universidad? On Saturday? Si. See, my classes officially ended on Friday, but one of my profesores asked if my friends (Monica and Kevin) and I would come to one of his english classes, consisting of mostly 'non-traditional' students. The idea was that I would have an opportunity to practice my Spanish (whilst giving a PowerPoint presentation about myself) and the students would have an opportunity to practice English with real, live native English speakers. Kevin and Monica are already pretty good with Spanish, as they each were basically raised in bi-lingual households, so they just spoke English. It was really relaxed, and even fun. We helped them drill on the differences between 'e' and 'i' sounds, and 'v' and 'b' sounds. They asked us about our perceptions of the country as visitors, etc. Our profesor bought us drinks afterward.
We finished up at the university at about 11:00 and took a cab to Monica's place; she was staying with a Host Family for the month that we had classes, but now that classes are over, she is staying with her Auntie in Bogotá. But not before visiting her aunt and uncle, cerca Santa Marta. We decided we would all go together for at least the weekend. Kevin and I brought everything we needed for a trip to Santa Marta, so we were ready to go. When Monica finished packing, we caught a shuttle to her Aunt and uncle's place, just outside Santa Marta.
SM is beautiful! The beaches are much cleaner than the ones in BAQ, and they're so close. We decided to find a restaurant on the street along the beach. We decided on slightly overpriced, yet decent hamburgesas. Just as we got to the beach, the sun was starting to set. It was just barely obscured by a small island a few hundred yards of shore. a sailboad was anchored about 100 yards from the beach, it was positively beautiful. Monica is part colombian, and remembers going to that beach a few years ago, when her parents made the observation that the sand on the beach used to be white about 20 years ago. Now it's a dull grey/brown color. I wonder exactly what it is that changed the color? We speculated that it must be pollutants from freighters, etc. Washing in and seeping into the beaches over the past several decades. Who knows though?
Kevin and I walked Monica back to her tios' apartment and caught a cab to Santa marta. Next time I'll tell you why I love to travel the way I do, and I'll use our experience as an example. :)
¡Gringo!
We finished up at the university at about 11:00 and took a cab to Monica's place; she was staying with a Host Family for the month that we had classes, but now that classes are over, she is staying with her Auntie in Bogotá. But not before visiting her aunt and uncle, cerca Santa Marta. We decided we would all go together for at least the weekend. Kevin and I brought everything we needed for a trip to Santa Marta, so we were ready to go. When Monica finished packing, we caught a shuttle to her Aunt and uncle's place, just outside Santa Marta.
SM is beautiful! The beaches are much cleaner than the ones in BAQ, and they're so close. We decided to find a restaurant on the street along the beach. We decided on slightly overpriced, yet decent hamburgesas. Just as we got to the beach, the sun was starting to set. It was just barely obscured by a small island a few hundred yards of shore. a sailboad was anchored about 100 yards from the beach, it was positively beautiful. Monica is part colombian, and remembers going to that beach a few years ago, when her parents made the observation that the sand on the beach used to be white about 20 years ago. Now it's a dull grey/brown color. I wonder exactly what it is that changed the color? We speculated that it must be pollutants from freighters, etc. Washing in and seeping into the beaches over the past several decades. Who knows though?
Kevin and I walked Monica back to her tios' apartment and caught a cab to Santa marta. Next time I'll tell you why I love to travel the way I do, and I'll use our experience as an example. :)
¡Gringo!
Thursday, July 15, 2010
A Day in the Classroom
I wish I had framed this better. You can see me bounce in and out of frame during a couple of classes. Oh well...
Monday, July 12, 2010
Sunday, July 11, 2010
Tengo la Camisa Blanca
Remember how one of my teachers told us how the city breaks down into zones? There are basically 5 or 6 main roads to remember, which are associated with income levels and relative safety. Maybe you should read it.
The other day, I woke up earlier than usual, took a nice long shower, and got dressed for school. I had just done some laundry, so I had basically my entire wardrobe to choose from. I decided on a plain white T and my holey jeans.
When you ride the buses here, they want you to pay in exact change. There are coins in values of 50 pesos, 100, 200, and 500. And bills start at 1000 ("Mil") and go 2000, 5.000, 10.000, 20.000 and 50.000. (etc? I've never seen anything bigger than "50Mil", or 50.000)
The buses mostly cost 1300. i have actually paid only 1000 for most of the time i've been here, even before realizing that people barter with the drivers. I'll explain later.
Anyway, on this particular day, i had exact change for 2 fares. Perfecto; one to go to school and one to get home.
Except, when i got to the universidad, i didn't have my ID to get in (they have a security terminal). Now i was frustrated. I now had to take a bus home, get my ID, and probably have to get a cab back because my next smallest bill was a 10mil. I crossed the street and watched for my bus. Luckily, I go to the school about 25 minutes early, so I figured if I hurried, I'd get back in time for my first class. Several minutes went by, the cootransnorte bus still hadn't come.
I figured that since I essentially live over a bridge and maybe... 3 miles? From UniNorte, I could just take any bus and it would get me to my street. I kept an eye out for one headed to "C.C" or, centro comercial. sure enough, a bus that said "centro" on the window pulled up. I hopped on.
Just as we were getting underway, I read the window again "via 40 centro z. Franca C17 S. Bolivar..."
Wait a minute. This might not be the right bus...
The bus turned off right in front of the bridge,, instead of crossing over it, as I needed it to. Crud. I pushed the buzzer to have the driver let me off, but we were on an exit ramp, so he just looked at me in the rearview mirror and wagged his head. The bus got on the loop that circles the city, the "circunvalar". There aren't any designated stops for the buses, just routes. So I wasn't sure if I would be able to properly identify a bus to take me back to where I started, and even so, i just used up my second bus fare. I decided not to stress about it and texted my classmate to have him tell the teacher that i would be late. I figured i would just ride the bus full circle and get off where i had started. By this time i was accustomed to ascance glances from fellow passengers, but i was getting more of it than usual. I thought it must be because of my especially white appearance: a bearded gringo in stylish jeans, a brilliant white t shirt, and a backpack with earbuds in. Then i realized what C17 means. i took my headphones out and stowed them in my backpack. I texted my barranquillan friend Harold: "looks like I'm taking an impromptu tour of the south end of town. I accidentally took a bus headed to Calle dieciciete..." to which I recieved a prompt reply: "what? No! Don't get off til you are by your house again. You're taking the ghetto tour this morning".
Awesome. I put my phone away as well. I decided to laugh at myself about it. I just watched people in their routines and wondered what they were thinking about. When we got off the circunvalar and back on city streets I was a little unsettled by the number of people wearing brilliant white t shirts on the bus--the final count: 1.
The roads here were thoroughly trashed--in and on. As we continued, we turned off of the paved roads altogether and onto dirt roads with no street signs.
TO BE CONTINUED....
The other day, I woke up earlier than usual, took a nice long shower, and got dressed for school. I had just done some laundry, so I had basically my entire wardrobe to choose from. I decided on a plain white T and my holey jeans.
When you ride the buses here, they want you to pay in exact change. There are coins in values of 50 pesos, 100, 200, and 500. And bills start at 1000 ("Mil") and go 2000, 5.000, 10.000, 20.000 and 50.000. (etc? I've never seen anything bigger than "50Mil", or 50.000)
The buses mostly cost 1300. i have actually paid only 1000 for most of the time i've been here, even before realizing that people barter with the drivers. I'll explain later.
Anyway, on this particular day, i had exact change for 2 fares. Perfecto; one to go to school and one to get home.
Except, when i got to the universidad, i didn't have my ID to get in (they have a security terminal). Now i was frustrated. I now had to take a bus home, get my ID, and probably have to get a cab back because my next smallest bill was a 10mil. I crossed the street and watched for my bus. Luckily, I go to the school about 25 minutes early, so I figured if I hurried, I'd get back in time for my first class. Several minutes went by, the cootransnorte bus still hadn't come.
I figured that since I essentially live over a bridge and maybe... 3 miles? From UniNorte, I could just take any bus and it would get me to my street. I kept an eye out for one headed to "C.C" or, centro comercial. sure enough, a bus that said "centro" on the window pulled up. I hopped on.
Just as we were getting underway, I read the window again "via 40 centro z. Franca C17 S. Bolivar..."
Wait a minute. This might not be the right bus...
The bus turned off right in front of the bridge,, instead of crossing over it, as I needed it to. Crud. I pushed the buzzer to have the driver let me off, but we were on an exit ramp, so he just looked at me in the rearview mirror and wagged his head. The bus got on the loop that circles the city, the "circunvalar". There aren't any designated stops for the buses, just routes. So I wasn't sure if I would be able to properly identify a bus to take me back to where I started, and even so, i just used up my second bus fare. I decided not to stress about it and texted my classmate to have him tell the teacher that i would be late. I figured i would just ride the bus full circle and get off where i had started. By this time i was accustomed to ascance glances from fellow passengers, but i was getting more of it than usual. I thought it must be because of my especially white appearance: a bearded gringo in stylish jeans, a brilliant white t shirt, and a backpack with earbuds in. Then i realized what C17 means. i took my headphones out and stowed them in my backpack. I texted my barranquillan friend Harold: "looks like I'm taking an impromptu tour of the south end of town. I accidentally took a bus headed to Calle dieciciete..." to which I recieved a prompt reply: "what? No! Don't get off til you are by your house again. You're taking the ghetto tour this morning".
Awesome. I put my phone away as well. I decided to laugh at myself about it. I just watched people in their routines and wondered what they were thinking about. When we got off the circunvalar and back on city streets I was a little unsettled by the number of people wearing brilliant white t shirts on the bus--the final count: 1.
The roads here were thoroughly trashed--in and on. As we continued, we turned off of the paved roads altogether and onto dirt roads with no street signs.
TO BE CONTINUED....
Tuesday, July 6, 2010
Gringo Awards
I have to say thank you to everyone who made this possible: Barranquilla, for my cold; without your fickle weather patterns I might not have this awful cough. Cartagena, for your beautiful sites and sunny beaches, without which I never would have gotten to experience the worst sunburn of my life. Juliana, my wonderful "godmother", who ordered me painkillers and milk of magnesia, delivered to my door. Harold, who was kind enough to apply said milk of magnesia, and get me some food so I don't have to take painkillers on an empty stomach. Thank you all so much for my awesome weekend!
Friday, July 2, 2010
Lo Siento
I haven't kept this thing up to date like I thought I would. I've been sick, sunburned and just plain lazy for a couple weeks. I need to get more vitamins in my diet. Probably this means buying multi-vitamins. One thing is certain, I've gotten my daily values of vitamin D, maybe even some melenoma to boot. My whole back was tomato red from my trip to Cartagena. The sun really is different here. I've been burned pretty badly in the past, but nothing like this. Anyway, now I look like a leper. Here are some conversation exerpts I thought you would enjoy:
'what did you eat today?'
"leftover salchipapa."
'oh. Because it's making you funnier.... than... you really are.'
-Harold
In case you haven't picked up on it yet, "these" denote something I have said, and 'these' are for whoever I am speaking to. Here's another one:
'this is a nice neighborhood--in fact, I had a friend who used to live in that building.'
"cool."
'It's a nice condom.'
"the word is 'condo'. Or 'condominium'"
'Oh. Thank you!'
"Anytime. ...You know I'm going to blog about this, right?"
-Harold
'Como estas, Evan?'
"meh... Asi-asi..."
'...que?'
"asi-asi?"
'you just said "like-like"?'
"I thought it was "so-so"..."
'we don't say that here.'
"i swear someone said it two or three times last night. It's the same as "mas o menos.... I remember seeing it in my dictionary"
'we say "mas o menos"... Así-así doesn't make sense."
"Really? Must be a Mexico thing. Stupid flash cards."
-Juliana y Kevin
'what did you eat today?'
"leftover salchipapa."
'oh. Because it's making you funnier.... than... you really are.'
-Harold
In case you haven't picked up on it yet, "these" denote something I have said, and 'these' are for whoever I am speaking to. Here's another one:
'this is a nice neighborhood--in fact, I had a friend who used to live in that building.'
"cool."
'It's a nice condom.'
"the word is 'condo'. Or 'condominium'"
'Oh. Thank you!'
"Anytime. ...You know I'm going to blog about this, right?"
-Harold
'Como estas, Evan?'
"meh... Asi-asi..."
'...que?'
"asi-asi?"
'you just said "like-like"?'
"I thought it was "so-so"..."
'we don't say that here.'
"i swear someone said it two or three times last night. It's the same as "mas o menos.... I remember seeing it in my dictionary"
'we say "mas o menos"... Así-así doesn't make sense."
"Really? Must be a Mexico thing. Stupid flash cards."
-Juliana y Kevin
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