Things are looking up for me upon returning to Utah. Who knew that a little time abroad could up my desireability? I have quite a few job prospects open to me; some paying, some simply a chance to make a good impression. Hopefully I can keep myself occupied this winter on film projects that will pay well enough to fund more travels in the spring.
Pending some more planning, I am hoping to take an offer from my aunt Peni, who currently lives and works in Oman. I am hoping to make a documentary about dogs in Islamic culture, specifically the packs of feral dogs who live on the streets in the cities. I have been interested in hybrid documentaries that address issues between nature and culture. For example, the effects of an assortment of bio-invasive species, and their impacts on the residents of Guam, in the south pacific. this is another intriguing situation: the correlation between the wide-spread existence of these dangerous dog packs, and the religious perceptions of Muslims.
After Oman, I intend to go to Nepal and make a documentary about exiled Tibetan monks, whilst simultaneously living with them in a monastery. Probably sounds more than a little cliché, but these are things that fascinate me, and I believe they will prove to improve my understanding of different cultures, as well as my resume. If, as a result of taking advantage of the offers and opportunities I have recieved, I am able to further my personal and professional accomplishments, I will not regret it later. If you've been reading my blog, you may try to remind me of my close call in Panama. However, I choose not to simplify that event as an act of hatered or jealousy. Desperation may play a role, and certainly ignorance and selfishness (albeit in the form of survival tactics).
From what I have witnessed here, there is no 'Laziness' to which poverty can be attributed; people work their fingers to the bone just to maintain the vaguest semblance of a 'life'. Perhaps justifiably, they see "Gringos" as priveledged, if not completely spoiled, ignorant and incompassionate. I think this perception fades with awareness and familiarity, which doesn't happen in an 'us vs. them' state of mind. My goals as a filmmaker, and a student of world culture, are to break the status quo, and encourage a 'we' attitude and understanding of those around us, and around the world. There are too many people in the world today whose perceptions of others are skewed by the ignorant ideology that some are more entitled to a decent existance than others. This is prejudice, and it is perhaps represented by all parties; ignorance begets prejudice, willful ignorance is a double offense.
/rant.
Wish me luck.
And thank you to my new-found friend Michelle, for helping me be proactive.
Monday, August 30, 2010
Tuesday, August 24, 2010
"destornillador": How I Learned the Word for Screwdriver.
My last entry was in Spanish, I hardly understood it myself. Here's another version in English.
I spent 5 days in Panama City. I met some very interesting characters, including Alice, a girl who had been bitten by a Botfly in costa rica, where she was teaching English; Jimbo, an Australian who had ridden a motorbike through Central America and was having a hard time processing the paperwork to sell it there in Panama; Jenn and Beth, two girls who were on a reunion adventure after meeting eachother in South Africa a few years ago--they were arriving in the airport at the same time I was; Adam, who has started his own tourboat business in the San Blas islands off the coast of Panama; two British blokes who were planning a global revelution, and hoped to have a meeting with Fidel in Cuba, and many other Go-getter types who were making things happen for themselves. Panama City is a huge hub for people headed elsewhere; whether it be through the canal, down the isthumus and into South America, or up into Central America. Or, more commonly, catching a flight home. I didn't meet many people who actually lived in Panama. Although, I did meet two "locals" who were quite possibly the most beautiful girls I have ever met: Isreli immigrants interestingly enough.
On my last night there, Adam, a girl named Ko (short for a difficult German name) and I decided to go to dinner at The Coca-Cola café, a couple of blocks from Luna's Castle Hostel. The neighborhood is called Casco Viejo, and it's located between Chinatown and San Felipe, un barrio I believe is named after an old cathedral there, which in turn is named after a Saint. the streets seem to have been plotted before the common automobile ever thought of making an appearance there--they are very narrow. The whole area is a tangle of one-way streets and narrow sidewalks.
We walked the two blocks to the café. Since Ko is an economist, we talked about the ecological value and economical impracticalities of alternative/renewable energy Vs. The economical practicality and ecological costs of fossil fuel. I don't think we solved any world problems, but I learned some things.
On the way home, it was quite dark. Since the sidewalks were too narrow to walk 3-deep, I walked in front of the other two. I have found that if I am following someone else, I am less inclined to watch my step. And since there were open and exposed manholes dotting the sidewalks (folks steal the lids and cash them in for scrap metal) I was pretty much occupied with pointing out the obstacles to my friends.
Somewhere in the long stretch between two streetlights, a man started walking beside us--beside me, to be exact. He reached over and tapped my pocket with a grimy fingernail 'tienes dinero?' he asked, pretty plainly.
I tried to shrug him off, 'lo siento, no...' but he didn't give up. 'necesito dinero para comida...' he persisted. 'no tengo plata para ti' I reiterated.
'no? Pero tengo este...' he said, brandishing a skinny, flathead screwdriver about 6 inches long. I could just barely tell what it was, though it kind of glimmered in the dark. I don't know if it was sharpened or not. I stopped walking and turned toward him. I was at a loss as to how to proceed. I had just pulled out enough cash to pay for my cab to the airport, and my next 4 meals. And the cash I had in my pocket was about 1/3 of all the money I have in the world: $80. My friends had stopped about 4 feet or so behind me, and I could just barely see them out of the corner of my eye. I was feeling a little lonely, because they weren't volunteering any help, though I think they both speak much better Spanish than I. I decided to fight the guy. Not a brawl, hopefully. I was trying to find a balance between cooperation and positioning myself to plow into him. I squared up to him as best as I could, and started to reach for my back pockets, crouching as much as I dare. Just as I hit that point where my knees were bent as much as I thought I could get away with (which wasn't much) and just as I had taken a good breath and decided it was go-time, I heard a pistol being cocked somewhere in the darkened void behind my friends, and outside my peripherie on my right. I recognized the sound immediately, and I was somewhat relieved by it; it made my descision much easier:$80 is not worth my life or those around me. I stood up straight again, expecting perhaps 3 or 4 more muggers. I reached for my wallet and was ready to hand it over without hesitation.
Out of the dark came a man with a pistol. Everyone carries .38 special around here, but this looked like a plain ol' 9mm. He held it low, and to the left, with both hands. He had just drawn it from his belt (no holster).
He was walking quickly but quietly, I hadn't pulled out my wallet just yet, but I was sliding my hand into my pocket when he came into full view. He walked directly up to the man with the screwdriver and said (en español) 'what are you doing?'
The man with the screwdriver-shiv lowered it to his side and said innocently 'I was just asking them for some money...' The gunman repeated the question: 'que estas haciendo?'
The man with the shiv was irritated: 'necesito dinero para comidas, mi mamá necesita dinero... Tenemos mucha HAMBRE!'
The gunman told him to get away from us, at which point the first man either dropped the shiv or pocketed it. He then began pushing the gunman with one hand whilst reaching into his pants with the other. I began to back up, expecting him to pull out a gun of his own. I turned to my friends who were standing in silence looking as wide-eyed as I'm sure I was at this point. ' should we go back, go around?' I suggested. But it seemed worse to go back. Maybe because it was pitch dark in that direction, and where we stood was in the edge of the light from a single streetlight. I turned back to the two men, who were sort of doing a one-handed scuffle. The man who had had the shiv was now squatting, pulling his pants down. What he was saying didn't make much sense, and I still can't decide if it was meant to be an insult to the gunman or if the guy was just plain crazy. Anyway, I don't need to repeat it. It occured to me that this was most likely a show that the two were putting on, something like a con: one man threatens us, another man saves the day, we are so grateful that we give him money, or, if we don't give due compensation, he turns the gun on us. I didn't really have time to consider what a good fee would be for chasing the mugger off.
After about a minute, the mugger sat down in the street, under the streetlight. At this point, Adam exclaimed 'is that a Gun!?'. I realized that up to this point, my two compadres hadn't seen what was going on. Because the sidewalks were so narrow, and because the man was holding the screwdriver out to his right--facing away from them, they hadn't understood that he was mugging me, and thought that he was just being pushy and my stalling appeared to just be polite unwillingness to ignore him. They hadn't seen the gun becuase they didn't recognize the ch-chink of it being cocked, and so didn't know to look for it as I had. Only now, when the gun was visible in the streetlight, did they realize what had just transpired.
The man with the gu put it into his belt, satisfied that the man was not going to get up from the curb. I nodded to the gunman to see if we were clear to pass by. I couldn't see his face, but he was standing vigilant, watching the man in the street. We walked past hurriedly and headed back to thx hostel without looking back, and without a much-deserved 'thank you' to our rescuer.
Everyone asks if the gunman was a cop, perhaps undercover. But I highly doubt that was the case. His mannerisms, especially in regard to handling the gun, seem to say that he was just a local who didn't want to see this sort of thing in his neighborhood. I would venture to say that he was
most likely a storeowner, who wanted to Gringos from Luna's Castle to feel safe walking and shopping in that area for years to come. He may even have known the man he was confronting, he held the gun quite deliberately low and at his side, not directly trained on the mugger. He was much more interested in convincing the man to go home than incapacitating him. essentially, he was just a good citizen, looking out for others.
This happened nearly a week ago, and I'm fine. We were kind of shaken up for a bit, and people didn't really beleive us when we told them what had happened, but we were (and are) all okay.
¡Gringo!
Sunday, August 22, 2010
Los Hombres en la Calle
Una noche, unos amigos fueron a comer en el café de la coca-cola. Cuando terminaron, las calles estaban muy oscuras. comenzaron a caminar hasta su casa en la oscuridad. que iban caminando y hablando, el hombre en la calle se acercó a su amigo en el frente (las aceras eran muy estrechas) y dio unos golpecitos en el bolsillo. '¿tienes dinero?' , se preguntó. 'no, no tengo ninguna.' respondió el amigo en el frente. pero el hombre no salió, 'Necesito dinero para comprar comida...' dijo.
'Lo siento, no tengo dinero para usted.' dijo el amigo en el frente. 'no? pero yo tengo esto ...' dijo el hombre de la calle y sacó un destornillador, que brillaban en la oscuridad. el segundo amigo no podía ver el destornillador, y no sabía que el hombre quería decir hacerles daño. el primer amigo que pensar. tuvo que decidir qué hacer. decidió luchar contra el hombre. justo cuando estaba a punto de saltar y empujar al hombre hacia abajo, oyó un ruido en la oscuridad detrás de él. era el sonido de un arma de armado. el primer amigo sabía que esto suena muy bien, y decidió no pelear, después de todo. miró hacia arriba y vio a un hombre con una pistola corriendo hacia ellos. el segundo amigo no podía ver lo que estaba pasando porque estaba muy oscuro y la acera era muy estrecha. el primer amigo pensó que el hombre con el arma que iba a ayudar al hombre con el destornillador, pero una otra cosa ocurrió. le apuntó el arma hacia el hombre con el destornillador y le preguntó '¿Qué estás haciendo?'
El hombre con el destornillador trató de ocultarlo por su cadera, y dijo: "Yo estaba pidiendo algo de dinero", pero el hombre con el arma no le creyó y repitió la pregunta "¿qué estás haciendo" el hombre de la cuchillo se enojó mucho y comenzó a gritar: "Necesito dinero para comprar comida. Mi madre necesita dinero. Estamos todos muy hambrientos!" entonces comenzó a comportarse extrañamente muy, y tiró de sus pantalones abajo. El hombre de la pistola le dijo que alejarse de los amigos. Ahora, el segundo amigo pudo ver la arma en la farola tenue. Entendió lo que estaba sucediendo. El hombre con el destornillador se sentó en la calle y el otro hombre puso su pistola. Los amigos comenzaron a caminar con precaución junto a ellos en la calle. El ladrón se dio vuelta y les gritó "¿por qué no me acaba de dar dinero? Un cuarto? un poco plata?" pero los amigos no se detuvo. Incluso se olvidó de dar las gracias al hombre con el arma.
'Lo siento, no tengo dinero para usted.' dijo el amigo en el frente. 'no? pero yo tengo esto ...' dijo el hombre de la calle y sacó un destornillador, que brillaban en la oscuridad. el segundo amigo no podía ver el destornillador, y no sabía que el hombre quería decir hacerles daño. el primer amigo que pensar. tuvo que decidir qué hacer. decidió luchar contra el hombre. justo cuando estaba a punto de saltar y empujar al hombre hacia abajo, oyó un ruido en la oscuridad detrás de él. era el sonido de un arma de armado. el primer amigo sabía que esto suena muy bien, y decidió no pelear, después de todo. miró hacia arriba y vio a un hombre con una pistola corriendo hacia ellos. el segundo amigo no podía ver lo que estaba pasando porque estaba muy oscuro y la acera era muy estrecha. el primer amigo pensó que el hombre con el arma que iba a ayudar al hombre con el destornillador, pero una otra cosa ocurrió. le apuntó el arma hacia el hombre con el destornillador y le preguntó '¿Qué estás haciendo?'
El hombre con el destornillador trató de ocultarlo por su cadera, y dijo: "Yo estaba pidiendo algo de dinero", pero el hombre con el arma no le creyó y repitió la pregunta "¿qué estás haciendo" el hombre de la cuchillo se enojó mucho y comenzó a gritar: "Necesito dinero para comprar comida. Mi madre necesita dinero. Estamos todos muy hambrientos!" entonces comenzó a comportarse extrañamente muy, y tiró de sus pantalones abajo. El hombre de la pistola le dijo que alejarse de los amigos. Ahora, el segundo amigo pudo ver la arma en la farola tenue. Entendió lo que estaba sucediendo. El hombre con el destornillador se sentó en la calle y el otro hombre puso su pistola. Los amigos comenzaron a caminar con precaución junto a ellos en la calle. El ladrón se dio vuelta y les gritó "¿por qué no me acaba de dar dinero? Un cuarto? un poco plata?" pero los amigos no se detuvo. Incluso se olvidó de dar las gracias al hombre con el arma.
Wednesday, August 18, 2010
Luna's Castle Hostel
So many characters...
¡Gringo!
¡Gringo!
The view out the back of Luna's Castle
If you were to take a right where that white car is, that's where I nearly got mugged.
Take a left, and arrive at Luna's Castle.
the bottom left corner is part of Relic bar's patio.
"Back yard" of Luna's Castle.
Relic Bar's back patio, below Luna's Castle.
Ants drinking at a banana juice watering hole.
I took this right before I went to get my tripod to make a time-lapse, and when I came back, the maid had cleaned it up. :-(
Me and Arvi went exploring one night. I think this is on 5th.
I dunno what to say about this one.
Left-side view from Luna's front balcony.
Night shot, same view.
This was in the hostel I stayed at on my first night in Panama City.
I didn't see a Gideon's bible.
Miraflores Locks - Panama Canal
1913
[Posted with iBlogger from my iPhone]
Miraflores: the middle Lock.
Carolinda is an interior designer from Bogota.
lanacanalpanama
Went to see the panama canal yesterday, paid $5 to see it from the 'observation deck'. Pretty amazing little opperation. It's interesting to think of the laws of physics and the human ingenuity that allows for progress despite such obstacles. Makes you glad to be a human.
Monday, August 16, 2010
Link to Miraflores Webcam
Panama Canal Live Webcam
It's bad weather here. I actually haven't been to bed since about 12 midnight on 14-08. I woke up at 830am on 15-08 and have yet to sleep. not because of the rain. that started at about 615am today, 08-16.
Anyway, my bed is dry. so whenever I finally crash ( I dunno what's gotten into me) I should sleep snug as a bug in a rug... speaking of which, I decided to clean the Hostel's kitchen top to bottom when I saw a couple of cockroaches in the sink. they looked to be nibbling on the coffee grounds and pasta that someone left for some else to clean up, guess that someone was me. While I cleaned, I wondered if i would resent having done it later, especially when people messed it up again. I decided that no, I would not resent it because it was choice to clean it, and no one owed me anything special for having done it.
I also thought some about the last post I made, because for some reason it was really negative, and that bothered me. I think it's because I have been complaining to other people about how americans act. There were a couple of loud and obnoxious americans on my flight to panama, and I think it made me dread going home. I was a little worried that I might actually come to find that all my friends are loud and obnoxious, and even that I am loud and obnoxious, and I just haven't seen it yet. Not to say that I don't think there are loud and obnoxious Colombians. for sure, there are. it's just a different type of obnoxious I guess.
I'm babelling.
¡Gringo!
It's bad weather here. I actually haven't been to bed since about 12 midnight on 14-08. I woke up at 830am on 15-08 and have yet to sleep. not because of the rain. that started at about 615am today, 08-16.
Anyway, my bed is dry. so whenever I finally crash ( I dunno what's gotten into me) I should sleep snug as a bug in a rug... speaking of which, I decided to clean the Hostel's kitchen top to bottom when I saw a couple of cockroaches in the sink. they looked to be nibbling on the coffee grounds and pasta that someone left for some else to clean up, guess that someone was me. While I cleaned, I wondered if i would resent having done it later, especially when people messed it up again. I decided that no, I would not resent it because it was choice to clean it, and no one owed me anything special for having done it.
I also thought some about the last post I made, because for some reason it was really negative, and that bothered me. I think it's because I have been complaining to other people about how americans act. There were a couple of loud and obnoxious americans on my flight to panama, and I think it made me dread going home. I was a little worried that I might actually come to find that all my friends are loud and obnoxious, and even that I am loud and obnoxious, and I just haven't seen it yet. Not to say that I don't think there are loud and obnoxious Colombians. for sure, there are. it's just a different type of obnoxious I guess.
I'm babelling.
¡Gringo!
Sunday, August 15, 2010
runnin' a little hot...
Aires airline doesn't exactly have the greatest service. But then again, airport security checks consist of 5 seconds of jabbing at bags and 5 minutes of watching passengers' video footage/fiddling around with camera to entertain themselves.
Anyway, we left the airport 45 minutes late, I think. And in our dual-prop puddle jumper, we were given our option of drinks:water. Or exorbetently over-priced soft drinks. When I asked "tiene jugo de naranja?" and the reply came,'¿como?!', it was business as usual; the woman was caught off guard by my accent. I looked across the isle at the couple (one australian and one colombian) and was met with reassuring nods. So I repeated myself quite clearly, albeit with an accent "tiene. Jugo. De. Naranja?" to which the flight attendent responded with a baffled look on her poor face, '....jugo de naranja?'. Give me a break. I simply smiled wide and gave a very deliberate nod. After a brief moment, something clicked. She dug out a juice box of none other than a tutti frutti "jugo de naranja". After opting for water, I looked over at the couple who had been watching the exchange. The Australian man simply gave me a deadpan 'was-she-serious?' look. And the colombian woman gave me a 'give-me-a-break!' wag of the head and rolling of the eyes. That was validating. I suppose they encounter it all the time as well. People just can't get past the accents.I'll give the benefit of the doubt to the average Barranquillero, But you'd think that a flight attendant would be ready for such an exchange.
Problems in panama. I tried running my card in the ATM and it was rejected:'please call your bank...' great. After 1.5 hours and a collect call to my bank i got the go ahead to run my card in a panamanian ATM. In the middle was an atrempt to recruit the aid of the police at la oficina de Polica nacional, but i was in comprtition with a boxing match on the 13" TV, after the policeman i was trying to talk to put me "on hold" with his outheld palm about 4 times to converse with his buddy about who-knows-what, i "hung up" with a shrug and perhaps a little bit showy exit. Later one came out and passed me whilst I was between payphone and Cajero (ATM), and tipped his hat with an over-the-top 'Buenas!'. No thanks.
I realize I was probably attributing my frustration with Chase Bank to the persons involved in this ordeal (including a taxi dispatcher who tried several times to show me to the cajero instead of listening to me say, or the one willing taxi driver say "necescito llamar mi banco; mi clave (PIN) no es funciónal".) basically treating me like an idiot—yes, i see the cajero, but i'm asking about a payphone.
Anyway, in doing some reflecting, i've discovered that what really irked me was paying 28 dollars essentially for the privledge of leaving the airport.
But now I'm here in Luna's castle Hostel. I can't complain. Free pancake breakfast (make 'em yourself) and quite an array of characters. I went to a mall at least 7 times as big as the SLC airport. Met a couple of girls who are well-travelled, but seeing central America for the first time. One from Hawaii and one from Canada. They are about where I was with my Spanish prior to coming to Colombia. tomorrow—wait, make that Today..in 5 hours. I'm going to Balboa Yacht Club to see if I can find a small boat captain or two looking for volunteer line handlers. I'll keep you posted.
Good night.
¡Gringo!
Anyway, we left the airport 45 minutes late, I think. And in our dual-prop puddle jumper, we were given our option of drinks:water. Or exorbetently over-priced soft drinks. When I asked "tiene jugo de naranja?" and the reply came,'¿como?!', it was business as usual; the woman was caught off guard by my accent. I looked across the isle at the couple (one australian and one colombian) and was met with reassuring nods. So I repeated myself quite clearly, albeit with an accent "tiene. Jugo. De. Naranja?" to which the flight attendent responded with a baffled look on her poor face, '....jugo de naranja?'. Give me a break. I simply smiled wide and gave a very deliberate nod. After a brief moment, something clicked. She dug out a juice box of none other than a tutti frutti "jugo de naranja". After opting for water, I looked over at the couple who had been watching the exchange. The Australian man simply gave me a deadpan 'was-she-serious?' look. And the colombian woman gave me a 'give-me-a-break!' wag of the head and rolling of the eyes. That was validating. I suppose they encounter it all the time as well. People just can't get past the accents.I'll give the benefit of the doubt to the average Barranquillero, But you'd think that a flight attendant would be ready for such an exchange.
Problems in panama. I tried running my card in the ATM and it was rejected:'please call your bank...' great. After 1.5 hours and a collect call to my bank i got the go ahead to run my card in a panamanian ATM. In the middle was an atrempt to recruit the aid of the police at la oficina de Polica nacional, but i was in comprtition with a boxing match on the 13" TV, after the policeman i was trying to talk to put me "on hold" with his outheld palm about 4 times to converse with his buddy about who-knows-what, i "hung up" with a shrug and perhaps a little bit showy exit. Later one came out and passed me whilst I was between payphone and Cajero (ATM), and tipped his hat with an over-the-top 'Buenas!'. No thanks.
I realize I was probably attributing my frustration with Chase Bank to the persons involved in this ordeal (including a taxi dispatcher who tried several times to show me to the cajero instead of listening to me say, or the one willing taxi driver say "necescito llamar mi banco; mi clave (PIN) no es funciónal".) basically treating me like an idiot—yes, i see the cajero, but i'm asking about a payphone.
Anyway, in doing some reflecting, i've discovered that what really irked me was paying 28 dollars essentially for the privledge of leaving the airport.
But now I'm here in Luna's castle Hostel. I can't complain. Free pancake breakfast (make 'em yourself) and quite an array of characters. I went to a mall at least 7 times as big as the SLC airport. Met a couple of girls who are well-travelled, but seeing central America for the first time. One from Hawaii and one from Canada. They are about where I was with my Spanish prior to coming to Colombia. tomorrow—wait, make that Today..in 5 hours. I'm going to Balboa Yacht Club to see if I can find a small boat captain or two looking for volunteer line handlers. I'll keep you posted.
Good night.
¡Gringo!
Tuesday, August 10, 2010
An Excercise in Leverage
The larger of the two tren opperators gets his way: lifting the car back onto the track
Waiting it Out
Sorry I haven't posted recently. It's not that I've been busy, I just haven't been really motivated to blog. I've got a bit of a case of cabin fever, I think. Anticipating my upcoming adventure to Panama has kind of left me restless, and in thinking of what i'd be doing in the states—or more accurately, what those I've left behind are doing—has me feeling a little depressed. Strange, huh? But I'm not exactly pining for the monotony of a normal life, so much as caught suspended between dreaming my dreams and living them. And I suppose since panama is my next big dreamed adventure, I have nothing to do but wait it out, and then enjoy it while it lasts.
On Saturday I went with my aunt Machelle and my friend Kevin to a fishing village just outside of Barranquilla called Las Flores. We ate at a resaurant right on the banks of the river Magdelena, the fish was incredible (even as cold leftovers that night).
It went from sunny and clear to rainy in less than an hour. We were worried that we picked a bad day to come see the mouth of the river. But, by the time we had finished our meals it had stopped raining. We decided to walk to the 'trencito'. But after a quick field test proved the frictional qualities of the mud to be lacking (while simultaneously confirming normal gravitational conditions), we decided to take a bici-taxi (bicycle taxi). The 'Trencito' is a passenger car about 12 feet long, with a tarped roof. It sits on tracks that were laid for the purpose of moving material and workers along the 14 kilometro long (or is it miles?) levee, or dike, which separates the sea from the river. This prevents the river banks from fluctuating as much with the tide, or during storms, and effectively puts the mouth some distance from the original mouth of the river. I don't know the exact value of this, but i assume it expands fishing areas, harboring space... Perhaps even helps regulate the flow of garbage into the ocean. Anyway, whatever the reason, it was definitely an undertaking to build.
Since then, the tracks have been turned into somewhat of an obscure tourist attraction, most patrons are Colombianos from different parts of the country. It costs 8.000 pesos ($4) for a roundtrip ride to the end of the tracks. There are about 4 different, individually-owned an opperated passenger cars, with one long plank benches powered with what must be a 12HP gasoline engines, which need a push to help getting the cars moving.
At a couple of points along the way out (circumstantially dictated), we would stop so an in-bound car could pass. This is a familiar concept to me, having worked a summer on a train in Alaska. However, there were no side tracks, or switches. There are only one set of tracks. I assumed the routine, then, would be for the in-bound and out-bound passengers to get off of their respective passenger cars and switch. But the complication, my aunt explained, was that each car is individually owned and operated. I remember a similar issue with water taxis to La Playa Blanca, in Santa Marta, which is inaccessable by land. I assumed that once you were at the beach, it didn't really matter which boat you took back, as long as you had a receipt to show you came in on one. But the problem then would be that one taxi might have a higher in-bound (returning) headcount than outbound, meaning that someone else, supposedly, had a hire outbound (paying end) headcount, and less returning. Therefore, unequal distribution of earnings. So the beach patrons were required to return on the same boat(or at least the same company) as they came with.
So it was at Las Flores. If only one car picked up new/paying passengers, the others would be making no profit. So all patrons were to remain with their original Trencito. So how do they manage it? Some simple math will show us the way.
Tren A is headed AWAY FROM Las Flores going 15 miles per hour, while Tren B is headed TOWARDS Las Flores at 12 miles per hour (this is an educated guess, which assumes equal gear and power configurations between train cars, and assumes roughly 1:1 horsepower to average-sized passenger ratio after canceling out gross vehicle weight). When they meet, each decelerates at roughly the same rate until coming to a (localized) complete stop. The passengers of one car will disembark (I'm not sure what the formula is for determining which it will be, but it includes a complex body mass index calculation which is multiplied by 1.25 per decibel, which is then given an OPIR (or Overall Physical Intimidation Rating) value, which compared between car operators. The bigger guy gets his (right-of-) way.
After the passengers of Tren B have disembarked, the opperators of the two cars then remove Tren B from the tracks as follows:
Respective operators of cars A and B effect the movement of Car B by applying force to said object, when the force applied (roughly on a verical vector) is equal to, and surpassing the the counter-forces (gravity, friction)one end of the car is lifted off the tracks. This process is repeated for the other end. Force is then applied on a lateral vector until Car B is clear of the tracks. Car A is then pushed down the tracks and Car B is replaced on the tracks. Down the line some way, the process was repeated: folks get off of one car while it is taken off the tracks, the other car rolls through, and the first car is put back on the tracks. They do this with commendable efficiency.
Once we got to the end of the line, we found ourselves among fishermen's huts constructed mainly of scrap lumber and junk like shipping pallets, road signs etc. There was a storm brewing on the way out, and now it was upon us; Just as we started to walk to the very end of the levee, the rain came tumbling down. We mused over spontaneous human combustion, lightning, the roofless "baños" which were a glorified perch over the river—sans TP—and at a cost of 200 pesos for men, and 500 for women, as we stood waiting out the storm in the shelter of a bar (the only thing on the chalkboard menu was "cerveza") which was constructed from the same general materials as the surounding shanties.
These shanties ("buildings" in the most basic sense of the word) had a very striking appearance. The wood was an Ashen grey, seasoned with salty mists from the sea just inches away on this narrow strip of piled rocks, and crumbled seashells. On some walls, the nails were neatly in a row, and the oxidation permeated the surounding wood, staining it orange and dark red. The fishermen were scarce—probably weathering out the rain at the end of the levee, some 300 yards further down from where the trencitos stop. After a half hour, everyone boarded the trencitos and we headed back. There were no outbound cars, as no one wants to ride in the rain.
The tarp roof leaked like a cheesecloth. And I was a bit concerned that the lightning, which was about 2-3 miles from us on the other side of the river, might prey upon a hunk of steel rolling along an otherwise low-lying stretch of ground amid what was otherwise a fairly vast waterscape. But we weren't struck. As we got back to the natural land (as opposed to the man-made levee) we found that, in addition to the streamlets that poured through the tarp overhead, the low-hanging branches would shed a wall of water on us, when the train car would bump them as it passed under. We had a little trouble getting a cab out of there, but eventually we found one. See, the streets flood something horrible here. There are no gutters. And barranqueros live in mortal fear of the "Aroyos". Which can Wash away cars and people. The streets become quintessential riverbeds, and a decent amount of rain quickly makes conditions for flash floods. About a month ago, 3 people were reported missing after an aroyo. It's assumed that they were caught up in the stream, dashed against a streetlight or telephone pole, and washed down into the river, and swept out to sea.
But mainly my experience has been that the aroyos are an excuse to stay home and wait it out.
On Saturday I went with my aunt Machelle and my friend Kevin to a fishing village just outside of Barranquilla called Las Flores. We ate at a resaurant right on the banks of the river Magdelena, the fish was incredible (even as cold leftovers that night).
It went from sunny and clear to rainy in less than an hour. We were worried that we picked a bad day to come see the mouth of the river. But, by the time we had finished our meals it had stopped raining. We decided to walk to the 'trencito'. But after a quick field test proved the frictional qualities of the mud to be lacking (while simultaneously confirming normal gravitational conditions), we decided to take a bici-taxi (bicycle taxi). The 'Trencito' is a passenger car about 12 feet long, with a tarped roof. It sits on tracks that were laid for the purpose of moving material and workers along the 14 kilometro long (or is it miles?) levee, or dike, which separates the sea from the river. This prevents the river banks from fluctuating as much with the tide, or during storms, and effectively puts the mouth some distance from the original mouth of the river. I don't know the exact value of this, but i assume it expands fishing areas, harboring space... Perhaps even helps regulate the flow of garbage into the ocean. Anyway, whatever the reason, it was definitely an undertaking to build.
Since then, the tracks have been turned into somewhat of an obscure tourist attraction, most patrons are Colombianos from different parts of the country. It costs 8.000 pesos ($4) for a roundtrip ride to the end of the tracks. There are about 4 different, individually-owned an opperated passenger cars, with one long plank benches powered with what must be a 12HP gasoline engines, which need a push to help getting the cars moving.
At a couple of points along the way out (circumstantially dictated), we would stop so an in-bound car could pass. This is a familiar concept to me, having worked a summer on a train in Alaska. However, there were no side tracks, or switches. There are only one set of tracks. I assumed the routine, then, would be for the in-bound and out-bound passengers to get off of their respective passenger cars and switch. But the complication, my aunt explained, was that each car is individually owned and operated. I remember a similar issue with water taxis to La Playa Blanca, in Santa Marta, which is inaccessable by land. I assumed that once you were at the beach, it didn't really matter which boat you took back, as long as you had a receipt to show you came in on one. But the problem then would be that one taxi might have a higher in-bound (returning) headcount than outbound, meaning that someone else, supposedly, had a hire outbound (paying end) headcount, and less returning. Therefore, unequal distribution of earnings. So the beach patrons were required to return on the same boat(or at least the same company) as they came with.
So it was at Las Flores. If only one car picked up new/paying passengers, the others would be making no profit. So all patrons were to remain with their original Trencito. So how do they manage it? Some simple math will show us the way.
Tren A is headed AWAY FROM Las Flores going 15 miles per hour, while Tren B is headed TOWARDS Las Flores at 12 miles per hour (this is an educated guess, which assumes equal gear and power configurations between train cars, and assumes roughly 1:1 horsepower to average-sized passenger ratio after canceling out gross vehicle weight). When they meet, each decelerates at roughly the same rate until coming to a (localized) complete stop. The passengers of one car will disembark (I'm not sure what the formula is for determining which it will be, but it includes a complex body mass index calculation which is multiplied by 1.25 per decibel, which is then given an OPIR (or Overall Physical Intimidation Rating) value, which compared between car operators. The bigger guy gets his (right-of-) way.
After the passengers of Tren B have disembarked, the opperators of the two cars then remove Tren B from the tracks as follows:
Respective operators of cars A and B effect the movement of Car B by applying force to said object, when the force applied (roughly on a verical vector) is equal to, and surpassing the the counter-forces (gravity, friction)one end of the car is lifted off the tracks. This process is repeated for the other end. Force is then applied on a lateral vector until Car B is clear of the tracks. Car A is then pushed down the tracks and Car B is replaced on the tracks. Down the line some way, the process was repeated: folks get off of one car while it is taken off the tracks, the other car rolls through, and the first car is put back on the tracks. They do this with commendable efficiency.
Once we got to the end of the line, we found ourselves among fishermen's huts constructed mainly of scrap lumber and junk like shipping pallets, road signs etc. There was a storm brewing on the way out, and now it was upon us; Just as we started to walk to the very end of the levee, the rain came tumbling down. We mused over spontaneous human combustion, lightning, the roofless "baños" which were a glorified perch over the river—sans TP—and at a cost of 200 pesos for men, and 500 for women, as we stood waiting out the storm in the shelter of a bar (the only thing on the chalkboard menu was "cerveza") which was constructed from the same general materials as the surounding shanties.
These shanties ("buildings" in the most basic sense of the word) had a very striking appearance. The wood was an Ashen grey, seasoned with salty mists from the sea just inches away on this narrow strip of piled rocks, and crumbled seashells. On some walls, the nails were neatly in a row, and the oxidation permeated the surounding wood, staining it orange and dark red. The fishermen were scarce—probably weathering out the rain at the end of the levee, some 300 yards further down from where the trencitos stop. After a half hour, everyone boarded the trencitos and we headed back. There were no outbound cars, as no one wants to ride in the rain.
The tarp roof leaked like a cheesecloth. And I was a bit concerned that the lightning, which was about 2-3 miles from us on the other side of the river, might prey upon a hunk of steel rolling along an otherwise low-lying stretch of ground amid what was otherwise a fairly vast waterscape. But we weren't struck. As we got back to the natural land (as opposed to the man-made levee) we found that, in addition to the streamlets that poured through the tarp overhead, the low-hanging branches would shed a wall of water on us, when the train car would bump them as it passed under. We had a little trouble getting a cab out of there, but eventually we found one. See, the streets flood something horrible here. There are no gutters. And barranqueros live in mortal fear of the "Aroyos". Which can Wash away cars and people. The streets become quintessential riverbeds, and a decent amount of rain quickly makes conditions for flash floods. About a month ago, 3 people were reported missing after an aroyo. It's assumed that they were caught up in the stream, dashed against a streetlight or telephone pole, and washed down into the river, and swept out to sea.
But mainly my experience has been that the aroyos are an excuse to stay home and wait it out.
Sunday, August 1, 2010
'we'll all speak English in heaven...'
My friend from church, Harold, speaks fluent English. During sunday school, we watched a video. At first if was subtitled in English, and everyone groaned. Harold said aloud 'we're all going to speak English in heaven; you may as well start practicing now'. No one understood him but me. Later, we read a scripture which I at first thought disproved his statement:
And that same sociality which exists among us here will exist among us there, only it will be coupled with eternal glory, which glory we do not now enjoy.
Then I looked up "eternal glory"...
Eternal glory: see also 'English'
Well I'll be!
And that same sociality which exists among us here will exist among us there, only it will be coupled with eternal glory, which glory we do not now enjoy.
Then I looked up "eternal glory"...
Eternal glory: see also 'English'
Well I'll be!
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