More Oddities and Pleasantries
Grocery Store Bill Pay
At the grocery store tonight, I noticed that the guy in front of me had a huge bill, and I thought that it didn’t look like he had very much food. It was because he was paying his bills right there at the grocery store checkout. I guess soon I will be doing the same thing. I guess this will have to happen after I have a bank account... and get paid. This is one of the many things I still don't know about.
Easy Minutes
The ease of recharging your minutes to your phone is amazing. I bought a cell phone with no monthly plan. I paid for $10 worth of minutes when I got the phone and was kind of dreading the recharge. There are signs all over the place for llamadas, which just means calls. They told me at the phone place that I could go to one of those llamadas guys and give him my phone number and some money and it would be recharged. One night when I was at the grocery store I saw a sign for my phone carrier Tigo. They said to just, once again, go to the cashier. I did. He asked for my phone number, I gave him money, and instantly my phone was charged! I love this system.
These cashiers are practically magic!
Close, But Not Quite
One of the many supplies on my students’ list was an English book of their choice for our classroom library. One of my 6th graders brought in a Penguin Classic abridged version of The Scarlet Letter by Nathaniel Hawthorne. For those of you who don’t remember this book from the end of high school, um, well, the subject matter is not exactly appropriate for 6th graders. The confusion comes from this book being rated as elementary. This, however, is elementary in the world of ESL for adults, not children. Great idea, but I’m not really into talking about the word 'adulteress' and playing a game of 'who is the father?' with a group of students who have barely hit puberty.
Adult Braces?
I have no idea why, but there is a disproportionately large group of adults here with braces. Teenagers have them too, but why so many adults? I do not know.
Thunderstorms
Having grown up in the Midwest, and for the past 14 years being a resident of the Pacific Northwest, one of the only things I ever miss are those warm days where suddenly the sky goes dark and the rain, thunder, and lightning roll in. Yesterday, that happened here. It is the beginning of the rainy season, but right now it’s sunny. Today I’m going to the beach.
Sunday, August 30, 2009
El Masaje
El Masaje
A new friend of mine, Andrés, was concerned when I had the ear infection, couldn’t sleep, and was a bit stressed out from school. To help me out he bought me a gift certificate to a spa for a massage. He gave it to me on Friday night and said, “La cita es mañana a las 11.” The very next morning I went for my massage. ¡Qué simpatico!
I had wanted to get a massage, because of my sore neck, but I was a little bit afraid to ask about getting one here. Why you ask? Well, when my friend Teacher Ron was in Chile he asked to get a massage and ‘accidentally’ ended up in the whorehouse. Thankfully, this did not happen to me.
I arrived at the spa to find all kinds of cosmetic surgeries, botox injections, etc. available. I think this is actually more common here than in the US, apart from maybe LA. I was asked if I would like a cafecito o aromatica. I chose aromatica and was given a styrafoam thimble of herbal tea inserted in a tiny silver cup holder.
Soon, a woman named Osmi greeted me and took me back to the massage room. Upon entering the room was an empty Jacuzzi, the obligatory new age music playing, and two massage tables – one of them covered in rose petals. Mine was the other one.
Osmi then asked me something about if I wanted to buy some underwear. Being that this was a conversation in Spanish I got a bit confused and told her that I had underwear on. She suggested again that I should get the underwear, so I did. She then produced a little plastic bag with what I assumed was underwear inside, and left the room for me to change. I removed it from the package to find the hospital gown type of paper underwear in two pieces. It took me a minute to figure out what was the bra and which were the panties. I put on the bra, which was a lot like a breast hammock with elastic edges and a tie at the back. The underwear was a thong to be tied at both sides of the waist. This took me a little longer to figure out how to put on. I was tying up the second side when Osmi returned and told me I had put it on backwards. Whoops!
I was a massage therapist when I lived in California and there are all different kinds of ways to drape the sheets over a client. I was glad that I had my paper thong and bra, because here there was no top sheet. In case I haven’t mentioned it, it’s really hot here, so I did not mind the lack of top sheet. She instructed me to lie on the table boca arriba. This is a new Spanish expression for me that means ‘face up’, but literally translates to ‘mouth up’. For some reason this image amuses me.
She worked feet to head applying some refreshing type of cream. It was definitely relaxing, which was good because I was a bit guayabo from the two margaritas the night before. It wasn’t any kind of deep tissue work, but rather a nice little rub a dub dub. It lasted about 1/2 an hour. When I thought she was all done she had me stand up and told me to wait. She then covered the table in plastic wrap. Uh oh, was it time for the Teacher Ron experience?
Thankfully it was not. Osmi then proceeded to cover me in some mud body mask. I now understood the reason for the paper underwear. After that she covered me in another sheet of plastic and then one of those silver emergency blanket things. She also put a different type of mud mask on my face. When I tried to make the slightest movement, I felt like how peanut butter and jelly must feel inside the sandwich when they stick to the bread.
After about 10 minutes of mud mask relaxation, I was then led to the Jacuzzi where I took my first hot shower in Colombia. In my apartment there is only one temperature of water, which is kind of lukewarm to cool. Because it’s always so hot here, I haven’t minded this, but I did enjoy the hot shower so I took my time.
Afterwards I felt very soft, clean, and relaxed. I was given a glass of fresh squeezed orange juice on ice with a straw, and a plate of 3 graham crackers served on a silver platter.
While in SE Asia I received many massages because A) they were extremely cheap and B) traveling there is quite taxing on the body. When there I reflected on how each country’s practitioners had such different approach and how they mirrored my overall impression of the country.
In Thailand, women with the stature of 8 year-old boys would give massages with the power of he-men, and always with a smile. It was as if they were saying, “We’re friendly, and we might be small, but we’re strong. We have our own style and there’s a reason we are the only country in SE Asia that hasn’t been colonized.” In Cambodia I got an excellent massage by a blind man. Sadly, not only was he blind, but he also had no eyes. I imagine this was a casualty of the land mines there though I didn’t ask. Perhaps their country was saying, “Our recent past is so sad it will break your heart, but we are resourceful survivors.” In Vietnam my massage was fast, un-relaxing, and I had to haggle for a decent price. They might have been saying, “OK, you invaded our country, now we want your money.”
Here in Colombia, this is possibly what they are saying, “We’re a little bit sexy, but not rough. We want you to relax and stay a while. Don’t worry, we’re not who you think we are. We will continually surprise you.”
As we all know surprises can be good or bad. The kindness of people – good. The water going off and internet stopping working for no apparent reason – bad. Each day I’m here something surprises and/or amuses me. I guess I can get frustrated or enjoy the differences. Today I will relax and enjoy.
A new friend of mine, Andrés, was concerned when I had the ear infection, couldn’t sleep, and was a bit stressed out from school. To help me out he bought me a gift certificate to a spa for a massage. He gave it to me on Friday night and said, “La cita es mañana a las 11.” The very next morning I went for my massage. ¡Qué simpatico!
I had wanted to get a massage, because of my sore neck, but I was a little bit afraid to ask about getting one here. Why you ask? Well, when my friend Teacher Ron was in Chile he asked to get a massage and ‘accidentally’ ended up in the whorehouse. Thankfully, this did not happen to me.
I arrived at the spa to find all kinds of cosmetic surgeries, botox injections, etc. available. I think this is actually more common here than in the US, apart from maybe LA. I was asked if I would like a cafecito o aromatica. I chose aromatica and was given a styrafoam thimble of herbal tea inserted in a tiny silver cup holder.
Soon, a woman named Osmi greeted me and took me back to the massage room. Upon entering the room was an empty Jacuzzi, the obligatory new age music playing, and two massage tables – one of them covered in rose petals. Mine was the other one.
Osmi then asked me something about if I wanted to buy some underwear. Being that this was a conversation in Spanish I got a bit confused and told her that I had underwear on. She suggested again that I should get the underwear, so I did. She then produced a little plastic bag with what I assumed was underwear inside, and left the room for me to change. I removed it from the package to find the hospital gown type of paper underwear in two pieces. It took me a minute to figure out what was the bra and which were the panties. I put on the bra, which was a lot like a breast hammock with elastic edges and a tie at the back. The underwear was a thong to be tied at both sides of the waist. This took me a little longer to figure out how to put on. I was tying up the second side when Osmi returned and told me I had put it on backwards. Whoops!
I was a massage therapist when I lived in California and there are all different kinds of ways to drape the sheets over a client. I was glad that I had my paper thong and bra, because here there was no top sheet. In case I haven’t mentioned it, it’s really hot here, so I did not mind the lack of top sheet. She instructed me to lie on the table boca arriba. This is a new Spanish expression for me that means ‘face up’, but literally translates to ‘mouth up’. For some reason this image amuses me.
She worked feet to head applying some refreshing type of cream. It was definitely relaxing, which was good because I was a bit guayabo from the two margaritas the night before. It wasn’t any kind of deep tissue work, but rather a nice little rub a dub dub. It lasted about 1/2 an hour. When I thought she was all done she had me stand up and told me to wait. She then covered the table in plastic wrap. Uh oh, was it time for the Teacher Ron experience?
Thankfully it was not. Osmi then proceeded to cover me in some mud body mask. I now understood the reason for the paper underwear. After that she covered me in another sheet of plastic and then one of those silver emergency blanket things. She also put a different type of mud mask on my face. When I tried to make the slightest movement, I felt like how peanut butter and jelly must feel inside the sandwich when they stick to the bread.
After about 10 minutes of mud mask relaxation, I was then led to the Jacuzzi where I took my first hot shower in Colombia. In my apartment there is only one temperature of water, which is kind of lukewarm to cool. Because it’s always so hot here, I haven’t minded this, but I did enjoy the hot shower so I took my time.
Afterwards I felt very soft, clean, and relaxed. I was given a glass of fresh squeezed orange juice on ice with a straw, and a plate of 3 graham crackers served on a silver platter.
While in SE Asia I received many massages because A) they were extremely cheap and B) traveling there is quite taxing on the body. When there I reflected on how each country’s practitioners had such different approach and how they mirrored my overall impression of the country.
In Thailand, women with the stature of 8 year-old boys would give massages with the power of he-men, and always with a smile. It was as if they were saying, “We’re friendly, and we might be small, but we’re strong. We have our own style and there’s a reason we are the only country in SE Asia that hasn’t been colonized.” In Cambodia I got an excellent massage by a blind man. Sadly, not only was he blind, but he also had no eyes. I imagine this was a casualty of the land mines there though I didn’t ask. Perhaps their country was saying, “Our recent past is so sad it will break your heart, but we are resourceful survivors.” In Vietnam my massage was fast, un-relaxing, and I had to haggle for a decent price. They might have been saying, “OK, you invaded our country, now we want your money.”
Here in Colombia, this is possibly what they are saying, “We’re a little bit sexy, but not rough. We want you to relax and stay a while. Don’t worry, we’re not who you think we are. We will continually surprise you.”
As we all know surprises can be good or bad. The kindness of people – good. The water going off and internet stopping working for no apparent reason – bad. Each day I’m here something surprises and/or amuses me. I guess I can get frustrated or enjoy the differences. Today I will relax and enjoy.
Tuesday, August 25, 2009
La Misa
La Misa
For our first Friday at school scheduled at 7:15 am was la misa or the Catholic mass. With the chatty children I’d been with all week, I wasn’t sure how this would go. To say I was pleasantly surprised would be an understatement.
All the classes filed in to a very hot and humid open-air auditorium. Up on the stage were the altar, flowers, and the band. The band was made up of a variety of teachers playing piano, drums, acoustic guitar, electric guitar, bass, as well as a few singers. Having gone to my fair share of Catholic masses, I have heard a variety mass songs, but hearing the songs sung in Spanish with a Latino rock flair made them really outstanding. We were handed our song sheets, and you’d never think that 6th grade boys would sing along, but they did!
Right at the beginning of la misa a large monarch butterfly flew up and landed on the stage right next to the priest. It just sat there throughout the mass as if it was listening to the homily, and then towards the end of the mass it fluttered off.
When I was younger I remember taking my friend Sal, who is Jewish, to a Catholic mass. She thought it was the funniest thing that during the offering of peace and everyone walks around and shakes hands. I mention this because the drummer in the band for la misa was an atheist from Canada who doesn’t really speak much Spanish. I kept observing him throughout the mass to look for his reactions to the whole process. He seemed to be just as happy with things as anyone. I was curious to know if it was odd for him so I asked. He said it wasn’t weird, although he couldn’t exactly understand what was going on. He did, however, say he liked the music and that he’d play with the band for masses in the future.
The students were well behaved for the whole hour-long mass. Amazing, but true. I had to laugh though, because right after the last song, the priest started talking on his cell phone while still on the stage.
In summary: a little bit of Spanish rock band + attentive butterflies and children = doing Catholic mass the right way.
For our first Friday at school scheduled at 7:15 am was la misa or the Catholic mass. With the chatty children I’d been with all week, I wasn’t sure how this would go. To say I was pleasantly surprised would be an understatement.
All the classes filed in to a very hot and humid open-air auditorium. Up on the stage were the altar, flowers, and the band. The band was made up of a variety of teachers playing piano, drums, acoustic guitar, electric guitar, bass, as well as a few singers. Having gone to my fair share of Catholic masses, I have heard a variety mass songs, but hearing the songs sung in Spanish with a Latino rock flair made them really outstanding. We were handed our song sheets, and you’d never think that 6th grade boys would sing along, but they did!
Right at the beginning of la misa a large monarch butterfly flew up and landed on the stage right next to the priest. It just sat there throughout the mass as if it was listening to the homily, and then towards the end of the mass it fluttered off.
When I was younger I remember taking my friend Sal, who is Jewish, to a Catholic mass. She thought it was the funniest thing that during the offering of peace and everyone walks around and shakes hands. I mention this because the drummer in the band for la misa was an atheist from Canada who doesn’t really speak much Spanish. I kept observing him throughout the mass to look for his reactions to the whole process. He seemed to be just as happy with things as anyone. I was curious to know if it was odd for him so I asked. He said it wasn’t weird, although he couldn’t exactly understand what was going on. He did, however, say he liked the music and that he’d play with the band for masses in the future.
The students were well behaved for the whole hour-long mass. Amazing, but true. I had to laugh though, because right after the last song, the priest started talking on his cell phone while still on the stage.
In summary: a little bit of Spanish rock band + attentive butterflies and children = doing Catholic mass the right way.
Monday, August 24, 2009
First Week of School
First Week of School
Warning: This may only be interesting to teachers.
The school where I teach is called Altamira International School. It is on the highway about 10 minutes outside of Barranquilla. This highway seems to be where the majority of International Schools are located as the German school is our neighbor.
This is what the school looks like from the air on Google Maps. It's easy to find because of the blue roofs.
The director, principal, and teachers are incredible. Our director sends us a weekly newsletter with quotes, word of the week, student skills of the month, academic goals with activities, and other business, that is really useful for homeroom. The school does seem to be very professional academically and everyone has been helpful. Of about 65 teachers only 4, including me, are North American and the rest are Colombian. This means that people speak Spanish almost all the time. It is a bilingual school where the core subjects - Language Arts, Math, Social Studies and Science – are taught in English. They also have Music (6th graders learn guitar, isn’t that cool?), Art, Spanish, Colombian Social Studies, Religion, and Character Education, which are all taught in Spanish. Besides the subjects I teach and writing this blog, my life here is almost entirely in Spanish, almost all the time.
The first day at 7:00 am the second I unlocked my door and all of my students poured in, I found my classroom had been rearranged. The room is concrete with tile floors – it echoes A LOT. The volume level of students talking only in Spanish was at about, on a scale of 1-10, an 11. I asked them to leave and come in when they wanted to talk, not shout, in English and to not enter until the bell rings. It rang about 10 seconds later.
I have 17 students in my class. There are18 other class, meaning 35 total in the 6th grade. I will be teaching 6th grade Language Arts and Social Studies and my partner will be teaching Math and Science. I am extremely happy about my class size to say the least.
My Classroom before students arrived
My class is 100% ESL and their listening skills need work, especially in the echo-y classroom. Shouting over people seems to be acceptable practice with students and teachers in the staff room. The name I am supposed to be called at the school is Ms. Elizabeth. I’m not a huge fan of this and have a very hard time calling myself that. The thing is I’m not usually called Ms. Elizabeth or Ms. Binyon – my name has become “Meess”. From the classified staff (not teachers, but other staff members) and students it’s, “Hello Meess,”
“Excuse me Meess,” etc.
I think our first pronunciation lesson will be minimal pairs of ship versus sheep.
Students are students everywhere in the world, so I’m sure that will be roughly the same same but different (a little Thai reference); however, there are some major differences from other schools I’ve taught at. To start out, students bring ALL the supplies. Yes, the means white board markers, colored paper for bulletin boards, and even the hanging folders for student files. I started out the school year not having much of anything – no scissors, tape, no clock, no overhead projector or any technology except my personal computer (which, by the way IS my work computer too), no keys to the locked closet where I am supposed to store supplies, no file cabinet, and the bulletin boards are just corrugated cardboard slapped up on the wall that I covered with left over colored paper.
Since students bring ALL the supplies, I had to sort through a list in Spanish of about 50 items on a list to take inventory of who brought what. My Spanish is fairly decent, but I didn’t know what resma, estilo fuelle, pliegos cartulina carnaval, paquete de octavo cartulina, meant. Do you? First, I needed to get some kind of translation before I could even do the inventory. Here is a picture of the length of the list.
It took quite some time to able to read it before checking off each item that each student either brought or didn't bring.
Can you imagine giving parents a list like this?
Other differences are copies need to be ordered a few days in advance and given to a man in a little copy room – that’ll be tough. The Library moved the first week of school to a newer and bigger room and students actually check out their textbooks from the library. My textbooks have been ordered but will not be available until first week of September. I don’t have my beautiful classroom library from home either, which should make trying to teach reading interesting.
For a much more concise version of this see Kären's blog.
Things that are nice that I DO have: a bathroom nearby (people from Highland, know that this is a pleasant change for me), air conditioning - which isn’t a luxury, but essential here, natural light, and students who wear uniforms.
I’m still trying to figure out eating and drinking at school. I thought teachers got a discounted lunch there, but I’m not exactly sure how that works. I’ve been bringing food and water. Bottled water needs to be drunk here in Colombia and during our prep week there was no bottled water at school. I’m also still trying to navigate the vegetarian unfriendly food with limited success. I make my own food, but it’s like shopping at Safeway… in the Midwest… in the 1980s – no organic vegetables and no vegetarian protein options, like tofu, can found anywhere. There is no silverware or sink in the staff room. When I asked where I could wash my dishes, the answer was, “Anywhere.”
With no sinks except in the bathroom and kitchen, I opted for the kitchen.
School security
Because of the air conditioning being ubiquitous, and how surprisingly windy it is at my apartment, I got an ear infection. Because of the ear infection, I did not get a lot of sleep. Because of the ear infection and lack of sleep, the first week in the loud ESL classroom was colored by my being overtired, a little irritable, and not hearing very well.
I went to the infirmary and got some drops put in my ears. When I returned the next day, the school nurse called a doctor. The doctor arrived and wrote her prescription on a piece of paper, which she stamped and signed. I could get it filled at any droguería. I saw my director and she was going into town, so she got it filled for me – this would never happen in the US on so many levels.
We did have a fantastic liaison helping the North American teachers with things like our cell phone, internet, and the previously mentioned cedula. Sadly, she quit the first day students we had with students. I’m wondering how we will get the cedula and bank account now. Everyday there is a mountain of things I do not know.
By Friday I had finally gotten a decent sleep and my ear infection was better. I woke up feeling like my normal energetic self. Not long after we got to school on Friday morning was La Misa – the Mass. This was, in my opinion, doing Catholicism right. So right in fact, it gets its own post.
Friday, did go more smoothly than any of the previous days. Oh there is just something about sleep (not to mention being able to hear) that really can change your whole outlook on life. I even tasted a bite of food I liked called Maizorca desgranada, which I plan on ordering for lunch when I can figure that whole system out. I finally got my closet opened and supplies organized in it, to find out10 minutes before a meeting, that they are going to paint the closets and that I had to take everything out of it again.
I still don’t have a clock, or scissors. I still do have a ton of questions, but little by little things will work out.
My favorite quote that we had from the week was this:
“The butterfly counts not months but moments, and has time enough.”
- Rabindranath Tagore
It’s time for me to be the butterfly.
view from my classroom
Warning: This may only be interesting to teachers.
The school where I teach is called Altamira International School. It is on the highway about 10 minutes outside of Barranquilla. This highway seems to be where the majority of International Schools are located as the German school is our neighbor.
This is what the school looks like from the air on Google Maps. It's easy to find because of the blue roofs.The director, principal, and teachers are incredible. Our director sends us a weekly newsletter with quotes, word of the week, student skills of the month, academic goals with activities, and other business, that is really useful for homeroom. The school does seem to be very professional academically and everyone has been helpful. Of about 65 teachers only 4, including me, are North American and the rest are Colombian. This means that people speak Spanish almost all the time. It is a bilingual school where the core subjects - Language Arts, Math, Social Studies and Science – are taught in English. They also have Music (6th graders learn guitar, isn’t that cool?), Art, Spanish, Colombian Social Studies, Religion, and Character Education, which are all taught in Spanish. Besides the subjects I teach and writing this blog, my life here is almost entirely in Spanish, almost all the time.
The first day at 7:00 am the second I unlocked my door and all of my students poured in, I found my classroom had been rearranged. The room is concrete with tile floors – it echoes A LOT. The volume level of students talking only in Spanish was at about, on a scale of 1-10, an 11. I asked them to leave and come in when they wanted to talk, not shout, in English and to not enter until the bell rings. It rang about 10 seconds later.
I have 17 students in my class. There are18 other class, meaning 35 total in the 6th grade. I will be teaching 6th grade Language Arts and Social Studies and my partner will be teaching Math and Science. I am extremely happy about my class size to say the least.
My Classroom before students arrivedMy class is 100% ESL and their listening skills need work, especially in the echo-y classroom. Shouting over people seems to be acceptable practice with students and teachers in the staff room. The name I am supposed to be called at the school is Ms. Elizabeth. I’m not a huge fan of this and have a very hard time calling myself that. The thing is I’m not usually called Ms. Elizabeth or Ms. Binyon – my name has become “Meess”. From the classified staff (not teachers, but other staff members) and students it’s, “Hello Meess,”
“Excuse me Meess,” etc.
I think our first pronunciation lesson will be minimal pairs of ship versus sheep.
Students are students everywhere in the world, so I’m sure that will be roughly the same same but different (a little Thai reference); however, there are some major differences from other schools I’ve taught at. To start out, students bring ALL the supplies. Yes, the means white board markers, colored paper for bulletin boards, and even the hanging folders for student files. I started out the school year not having much of anything – no scissors, tape, no clock, no overhead projector or any technology except my personal computer (which, by the way IS my work computer too), no keys to the locked closet where I am supposed to store supplies, no file cabinet, and the bulletin boards are just corrugated cardboard slapped up on the wall that I covered with left over colored paper.
Since students bring ALL the supplies, I had to sort through a list in Spanish of about 50 items on a list to take inventory of who brought what. My Spanish is fairly decent, but I didn’t know what resma, estilo fuelle, pliegos cartulina carnaval, paquete de octavo cartulina, meant. Do you? First, I needed to get some kind of translation before I could even do the inventory. Here is a picture of the length of the list.
It took quite some time to able to read it before checking off each item that each student either brought or didn't bring.Can you imagine giving parents a list like this?
Other differences are copies need to be ordered a few days in advance and given to a man in a little copy room – that’ll be tough. The Library moved the first week of school to a newer and bigger room and students actually check out their textbooks from the library. My textbooks have been ordered but will not be available until first week of September. I don’t have my beautiful classroom library from home either, which should make trying to teach reading interesting.
For a much more concise version of this see Kären's blog.
Things that are nice that I DO have: a bathroom nearby (people from Highland, know that this is a pleasant change for me), air conditioning - which isn’t a luxury, but essential here, natural light, and students who wear uniforms.
I’m still trying to figure out eating and drinking at school. I thought teachers got a discounted lunch there, but I’m not exactly sure how that works. I’ve been bringing food and water. Bottled water needs to be drunk here in Colombia and during our prep week there was no bottled water at school. I’m also still trying to navigate the vegetarian unfriendly food with limited success. I make my own food, but it’s like shopping at Safeway… in the Midwest… in the 1980s – no organic vegetables and no vegetarian protein options, like tofu, can found anywhere. There is no silverware or sink in the staff room. When I asked where I could wash my dishes, the answer was, “Anywhere.”
With no sinks except in the bathroom and kitchen, I opted for the kitchen.
School securityBecause of the air conditioning being ubiquitous, and how surprisingly windy it is at my apartment, I got an ear infection. Because of the ear infection, I did not get a lot of sleep. Because of the ear infection and lack of sleep, the first week in the loud ESL classroom was colored by my being overtired, a little irritable, and not hearing very well.
I went to the infirmary and got some drops put in my ears. When I returned the next day, the school nurse called a doctor. The doctor arrived and wrote her prescription on a piece of paper, which she stamped and signed. I could get it filled at any droguería. I saw my director and she was going into town, so she got it filled for me – this would never happen in the US on so many levels.
We did have a fantastic liaison helping the North American teachers with things like our cell phone, internet, and the previously mentioned cedula. Sadly, she quit the first day students we had with students. I’m wondering how we will get the cedula and bank account now. Everyday there is a mountain of things I do not know.
By Friday I had finally gotten a decent sleep and my ear infection was better. I woke up feeling like my normal energetic self. Not long after we got to school on Friday morning was La Misa – the Mass. This was, in my opinion, doing Catholicism right. So right in fact, it gets its own post.
Friday, did go more smoothly than any of the previous days. Oh there is just something about sleep (not to mention being able to hear) that really can change your whole outlook on life. I even tasted a bite of food I liked called Maizorca desgranada, which I plan on ordering for lunch when I can figure that whole system out. I finally got my closet opened and supplies organized in it, to find out10 minutes before a meeting, that they are going to paint the closets and that I had to take everything out of it again.
I still don’t have a clock, or scissors. I still do have a ton of questions, but little by little things will work out.
My favorite quote that we had from the week was this:
“The butterfly counts not months but moments, and has time enough.”
- Rabindranath Tagore
It’s time for me to be the butterfly.
view from my classroomMonday, August 17, 2009
The Kindness of Strangers (Read: New Friends)
The Kindness of Strangers (read: new friends)
People here are extraordinarily friendly. This weekend some of my new Colombian colleagues invited me to a battle of the bands local rock concert, a jazz club, and a barbecue.
The battle of the bands called the Miche Rock Festival, was outside in a place called Plaza la Paz. Turns out Miche is a guy who owns a music store and happens to be a dad of one of our students. Right when we entered my colleague got us VIP passes. It had several different rock genres. Some I liked – the reggae/ska band with horns, and the female led band that did a cover of Message in a Bottle by the Police, and some I did not – the growling death metal band. For me, being in South America for my first time, it was just as entertaining watching the crowd. As I’ve seen everywhere in Colombia, there was high security (read: uniformed people with guns), but in some places, like Mexico and Indonesia, this has scared me. Here it makes me actually feel safer.
Here is something I’ve never seen at any rock concert: people who were up in the front would just sit down on the ground. Other people were head-banging around them, but they were calmly sitting on the ground. We ran into another colleague who had brought her 5 year-old son. He was sitting up in front listening and drumming with a water bottle to the music. The mosh pit was also entertaining, being more like a friendly circle of people skipping and running, instead of people bashing into each other. After many bands finished their last song there was the chant of, "Otra! Otra!" (encore) When I liked the band I joined right in the chanting.
The jazz club was somewhere we never would have found from the street because it was literally underground. The band played traditional Latin jazz standards, think Buena Vista Social Club minus the singers. I preferred it to the rock bands.
A little aside: Being a vegetarian in Colombia is not that easy. I do eat fish and thought for sure with Barranquilla’s proximity to the coast there would be plenty of fish – not so. However, there is a large Arabic and supposedly also Indian community here. I’ve seen lots of Arabic (mainly Lebanese) restaurants and I’m looking forward to trying them.
Yesterday I was invited to a barbecue at my co-teacher’s house. She has a beautiful little modern house just outside Barranquilla. I feared there wouldn’t be much food besides meat – no veggies burgers here I’m sorry to say. My fears were confirmed. No salad, no fruit, and on the grill only meat. Because I was hungry I did eat a little bit of sausage, but I just can’t handle the other meats. There were boiled potatoes and yucca with this delicious sauce called suero. It’s kind of like crème fresh, only a bit more sour, but not as much as sour cream.
After the yucca and potatoes and a few tragos of some type of anise liquor made from sugar cane (I think it was called aguardiente) it was time for dancing, and dance we did. There was merengue, ranchera, reggatón, classics in English like Staying Alive and I Will Survive, and the typical music here called vallenato, which has Latin singing, rhythm, plus accordion. It sounds like drinking music to me.
We danced until about 1:30 and laughed a lot too. Everyone here wants to make sure that everyone is having a good time – the hospitality is extraordinary. I’m certain that a good time was had by all, although I’m sure today some folks will be a bit guayabo, which I just learned is the word here for hungover.
Thankfully I am not guayabo, as it is my first day of teaching tomorrow. As of now I have 17 students in my homeroom and my teaching partner has 18. This makes my grand total of students 35 in two classes – I would’ve had this many in one class if I had stayed teaching in Gresham this year. Suffice it to say, I think I have made the right choice.
People here are extraordinarily friendly. This weekend some of my new Colombian colleagues invited me to a battle of the bands local rock concert, a jazz club, and a barbecue.
The battle of the bands called the Miche Rock Festival, was outside in a place called Plaza la Paz. Turns out Miche is a guy who owns a music store and happens to be a dad of one of our students. Right when we entered my colleague got us VIP passes. It had several different rock genres. Some I liked – the reggae/ska band with horns, and the female led band that did a cover of Message in a Bottle by the Police, and some I did not – the growling death metal band. For me, being in South America for my first time, it was just as entertaining watching the crowd. As I’ve seen everywhere in Colombia, there was high security (read: uniformed people with guns), but in some places, like Mexico and Indonesia, this has scared me. Here it makes me actually feel safer.
Here is something I’ve never seen at any rock concert: people who were up in the front would just sit down on the ground. Other people were head-banging around them, but they were calmly sitting on the ground. We ran into another colleague who had brought her 5 year-old son. He was sitting up in front listening and drumming with a water bottle to the music. The mosh pit was also entertaining, being more like a friendly circle of people skipping and running, instead of people bashing into each other. After many bands finished their last song there was the chant of, "Otra! Otra!" (encore) When I liked the band I joined right in the chanting.
The jazz club was somewhere we never would have found from the street because it was literally underground. The band played traditional Latin jazz standards, think Buena Vista Social Club minus the singers. I preferred it to the rock bands.
A little aside: Being a vegetarian in Colombia is not that easy. I do eat fish and thought for sure with Barranquilla’s proximity to the coast there would be plenty of fish – not so. However, there is a large Arabic and supposedly also Indian community here. I’ve seen lots of Arabic (mainly Lebanese) restaurants and I’m looking forward to trying them.
Yesterday I was invited to a barbecue at my co-teacher’s house. She has a beautiful little modern house just outside Barranquilla. I feared there wouldn’t be much food besides meat – no veggies burgers here I’m sorry to say. My fears were confirmed. No salad, no fruit, and on the grill only meat. Because I was hungry I did eat a little bit of sausage, but I just can’t handle the other meats. There were boiled potatoes and yucca with this delicious sauce called suero. It’s kind of like crème fresh, only a bit more sour, but not as much as sour cream.
After the yucca and potatoes and a few tragos of some type of anise liquor made from sugar cane (I think it was called aguardiente) it was time for dancing, and dance we did. There was merengue, ranchera, reggatón, classics in English like Staying Alive and I Will Survive, and the typical music here called vallenato, which has Latin singing, rhythm, plus accordion. It sounds like drinking music to me.
We danced until about 1:30 and laughed a lot too. Everyone here wants to make sure that everyone is having a good time – the hospitality is extraordinary. I’m certain that a good time was had by all, although I’m sure today some folks will be a bit guayabo, which I just learned is the word here for hungover.
Thankfully I am not guayabo, as it is my first day of teaching tomorrow. As of now I have 17 students in my homeroom and my teaching partner has 18. This makes my grand total of students 35 in two classes – I would’ve had this many in one class if I had stayed teaching in Gresham this year. Suffice it to say, I think I have made the right choice.
"Uh-oh"
"Uh-oh"
It was my first Saturday night in Colombia. I had been to Cartagena the night before and got back in the afternoon. After grocery shopping, and eating food at restaurants that was OK at best, I thought it’d be nice to cook a pasta puttanesca – this was partially because I found all the ingredients at the store. I had finished cooking and was feeling rather pleased with how it turned out for my first cooked meal in Colombia. I had just lit a candle went over to invite Kären, my fellow North American colleague, if she wanted to join me for dinner and a glass of wine. I walked out of my apartment, knocked on her door, she answered and accepted. Suddenly, because of a windy evening and an open window in my apartment, the door slammed shut.
“Uh-oh,” I said, but was feeling OK about things.
Surely the front desk would have an extra set of keys, right? Kären went with me to the security guards downstairs. I explained the situation in Spanish and was feeling a bit stupid about the situation, but rather pleased with my Spanish. Cesar the security guard to the rescue. I thought he had brought a replacement set of keys, but no. Apparently they don’t have extra keys here. The way to solve the problem was to try and break into my apartment.
“Uh-oh,” again followed by, “Really?"
Here were Cesar’s tools: A leatherman pair of pliers, some credit cards, a hat full of keys (none of which worked), and a gun with the bullets removed. He was trying the old trick of sliding the card in to open the door, but to no avail. The leatherman was used to make the space a bit wider and the gun was used as a hammer. Despite the potentially grim situation I was in, I found this Colombian style MacGyver ingenuity hilarious. Apparently Xave did too.
“El gerente no tiene otras llaves?” I asked.
“No.”
“Nadie tiene otras llaves?”
“No.”
So I guess no one, not even the manager has extra keys. I found this pretty surprising obviously. Cesar continued to work up a sweat using both hands and an occasional foot to try and break in to my apartment.
After what seemed like an eternity, and several dents in the wood of the door stop, he did eventually get the door opened. I seriously think Cesar would have continued to try all night until he got in.
In case any of you are getting worried about the safety of my apartment, let me explain about the lock situation. The door Cesar was trying to break in to locks automatically when shut, there is another lock that is a dead bolt on that door, and there is an iron barred door that gets locked in front of that. 3 locks and 2 doors of which the only possible one to break into took a security guard trying his darnedest, and making a whole lot of noise, took about 40 minutes. If anything this made me feel ridiculously safe.
When Cesar was picking up the bullets to put back in the gun, I was thinking to myself that he could be saying, “Now that I’ve opened your door for you, I'll have to kill you.” Actually, he was very sweet. Just in case, I gave him a little tip. Oh yes, making a great name for myself everywhere I go. So embarrassing.
Moral of the story: don’t feel too smug, and make sure you always have a trusted person with a copy of your keys.
It was my first Saturday night in Colombia. I had been to Cartagena the night before and got back in the afternoon. After grocery shopping, and eating food at restaurants that was OK at best, I thought it’d be nice to cook a pasta puttanesca – this was partially because I found all the ingredients at the store. I had finished cooking and was feeling rather pleased with how it turned out for my first cooked meal in Colombia. I had just lit a candle went over to invite Kären, my fellow North American colleague, if she wanted to join me for dinner and a glass of wine. I walked out of my apartment, knocked on her door, she answered and accepted. Suddenly, because of a windy evening and an open window in my apartment, the door slammed shut.
“Uh-oh,” I said, but was feeling OK about things.
Surely the front desk would have an extra set of keys, right? Kären went with me to the security guards downstairs. I explained the situation in Spanish and was feeling a bit stupid about the situation, but rather pleased with my Spanish. Cesar the security guard to the rescue. I thought he had brought a replacement set of keys, but no. Apparently they don’t have extra keys here. The way to solve the problem was to try and break into my apartment.
“Uh-oh,” again followed by, “Really?"
Here were Cesar’s tools: A leatherman pair of pliers, some credit cards, a hat full of keys (none of which worked), and a gun with the bullets removed. He was trying the old trick of sliding the card in to open the door, but to no avail. The leatherman was used to make the space a bit wider and the gun was used as a hammer. Despite the potentially grim situation I was in, I found this Colombian style MacGyver ingenuity hilarious. Apparently Xave did too.
“El gerente no tiene otras llaves?” I asked.
“No.”
“Nadie tiene otras llaves?”
“No.”
So I guess no one, not even the manager has extra keys. I found this pretty surprising obviously. Cesar continued to work up a sweat using both hands and an occasional foot to try and break in to my apartment.
After what seemed like an eternity, and several dents in the wood of the door stop, he did eventually get the door opened. I seriously think Cesar would have continued to try all night until he got in.
In case any of you are getting worried about the safety of my apartment, let me explain about the lock situation. The door Cesar was trying to break in to locks automatically when shut, there is another lock that is a dead bolt on that door, and there is an iron barred door that gets locked in front of that. 3 locks and 2 doors of which the only possible one to break into took a security guard trying his darnedest, and making a whole lot of noise, took about 40 minutes. If anything this made me feel ridiculously safe.
When Cesar was picking up the bullets to put back in the gun, I was thinking to myself that he could be saying, “Now that I’ve opened your door for you, I'll have to kill you.” Actually, he was very sweet. Just in case, I gave him a little tip. Oh yes, making a great name for myself everywhere I go. So embarrassing.
Moral of the story: don’t feel too smug, and make sure you always have a trusted person with a copy of your keys.
Oddities and Pleasantries Worth Mentioning
Oddities and pleasantries worth mentioning
Traffic mimes: Many of us have seen the guys who wash your windows at stop lights for change, well here there are traffic mimes. They are sometimes painted up like your standard mime, but there are others. I’ve seen a squeaky robot, a fisherman statue, but my current favorite is from yesterday: a silver painted astronaut walking in the middle of traffic as if he was walking on the moon.
Liquid sold in bags: Milk, yogurt and water sold in bags. I couldn’t do it the first week, but this week I took the plunge and bought and drank water right out of the bag. When in Rome...
Fruit and coffee vendors: Right now a fruit vendor is shouting “aquacate” (avocado) outside – love that. There are also fruit vendors on many corners. The best is ripe mango cut up like French fries and served in a bag with lime and salt – yum.
I have yet to buy a cup from the street coffee vendors, but they carry thermoses, and what sometimes looks like a kitchen cupboard in order to give coffee with a substantial amount of sugar.
Thimbles of Coffee: For a country known for its coffee, one would think that they may want to actually want to serve you a decent amount, but the cups are not much larger than thimbles. I’m not kidding. I know we have gone off the deep end of super-sizing things in the US, but I do like to drink more than a 1-ounce plastic demitasse of coffee at a time. Not only is it a small amount, but it is served with sugar and no cream. Funny enough and as stereotypical as it may sound, the best place to get coffee is called, yep, you guessed it, Juan Valdez. These are cafes kind of like Starbucks. There they actually do give you coffee in a decent sized cup and it is delicious.
Cedula: I have been asked for this several times since I’ve arrived and initially had no idea what they were talking about. This is a Colombian ID card that is used here as frequently as a driver’s license is in the US. You need to have one to get things like a bank account, etc. Here, to get a cedula you need – your passport, DOB, address, phone, employer, emergency contact – all typical stuff so far but then you also need to take blood to find your blood type (I’m O positivo) 4 passport pictures, all of your fingers and thumb prints (and they give you nothing to wash your hands, but rather, a little piece of paper to wipe off the ink), your parents names, and essentially signing every last detail you can imagine. This is homeland security.
After all that you’d think they’d put the number in a computer, nope, they just open up a large book that looks about vintage 1940, and put your number in there with your signature.
“Todo esta bien chevere”
This is taken from a Stevie Wonder song and it is after him saying, “I speak very fluent Spanish,” but I never knew what chevere meant until I came to Colombia. It means "really cool". Stevie said everything is really cool. I think today it would transfer to, “It’s all good.”
The bus: Cheech and Chong cab minus the pot. Colorfully painted buses with fringy curtains, family pictures, salsa music blaring with the guy who takes your money dancing the whole time, tons of kids in back, a hand is given to help you as you are leaving the bus, teenage boys who actually politely give women a seat, all of this for a whopping grand total of $0.80. It is a fiesta on wheels.
Cabs: Unlike almost every other country in the world, the cab drivers do NOT try to rip you off. Cabs here are unmetered, but every ride within the city limits is 5000 pesos, which equates to $2.50. Cabs are plentiful and necessary because walking is a sweaty, dodgy sidewalk, and scary traffic filled experience.
Traffic mimes: Many of us have seen the guys who wash your windows at stop lights for change, well here there are traffic mimes. They are sometimes painted up like your standard mime, but there are others. I’ve seen a squeaky robot, a fisherman statue, but my current favorite is from yesterday: a silver painted astronaut walking in the middle of traffic as if he was walking on the moon.
Liquid sold in bags: Milk, yogurt and water sold in bags. I couldn’t do it the first week, but this week I took the plunge and bought and drank water right out of the bag. When in Rome...
Fruit and coffee vendors: Right now a fruit vendor is shouting “aquacate” (avocado) outside – love that. There are also fruit vendors on many corners. The best is ripe mango cut up like French fries and served in a bag with lime and salt – yum.
I have yet to buy a cup from the street coffee vendors, but they carry thermoses, and what sometimes looks like a kitchen cupboard in order to give coffee with a substantial amount of sugar.
Thimbles of Coffee: For a country known for its coffee, one would think that they may want to actually want to serve you a decent amount, but the cups are not much larger than thimbles. I’m not kidding. I know we have gone off the deep end of super-sizing things in the US, but I do like to drink more than a 1-ounce plastic demitasse of coffee at a time. Not only is it a small amount, but it is served with sugar and no cream. Funny enough and as stereotypical as it may sound, the best place to get coffee is called, yep, you guessed it, Juan Valdez. These are cafes kind of like Starbucks. There they actually do give you coffee in a decent sized cup and it is delicious.
Cedula: I have been asked for this several times since I’ve arrived and initially had no idea what they were talking about. This is a Colombian ID card that is used here as frequently as a driver’s license is in the US. You need to have one to get things like a bank account, etc. Here, to get a cedula you need – your passport, DOB, address, phone, employer, emergency contact – all typical stuff so far but then you also need to take blood to find your blood type (I’m O positivo) 4 passport pictures, all of your fingers and thumb prints (and they give you nothing to wash your hands, but rather, a little piece of paper to wipe off the ink), your parents names, and essentially signing every last detail you can imagine. This is homeland security.
After all that you’d think they’d put the number in a computer, nope, they just open up a large book that looks about vintage 1940, and put your number in there with your signature.
“Todo esta bien chevere”
This is taken from a Stevie Wonder song and it is after him saying, “I speak very fluent Spanish,” but I never knew what chevere meant until I came to Colombia. It means "really cool". Stevie said everything is really cool. I think today it would transfer to, “It’s all good.”
The bus: Cheech and Chong cab minus the pot. Colorfully painted buses with fringy curtains, family pictures, salsa music blaring with the guy who takes your money dancing the whole time, tons of kids in back, a hand is given to help you as you are leaving the bus, teenage boys who actually politely give women a seat, all of this for a whopping grand total of $0.80. It is a fiesta on wheels.
Cabs: Unlike almost every other country in the world, the cab drivers do NOT try to rip you off. Cabs here are unmetered, but every ride within the city limits is 5000 pesos, which equates to $2.50. Cabs are plentiful and necessary because walking is a sweaty, dodgy sidewalk, and scary traffic filled experience.
Mud Bath Volcano
Mud Bath Volcano
On our first weekend, my North American colleagues and I decided to go to Cartagena. I will write more about that later. On the way to Cartagena we stopped by a “mud volcano” called Volcan Totumo. At first it just kind of reminded me of a large termite hill and didn’t look very impressive. Oh, but just wait.
volcan totumo entrance
cadavers. They then proceeded to give us mud massages and every once in a while would remove mud from our ears and lips, which was necessary. They were floating just like us and told us that the volcano was 2,300 meters deep! It really only smelled of clay like a ceramics studio, not the sulfur smell that hot springs have. The mud was about body temperature or slightly cooler, not molten lava. I loved it!
laughing, not screaming
the 4 North American mud loversThere were guys taking pictures and the others who massaged us while we relaxed and cracked up for about 30-40 minutes. Just as we were about to be taken down to the lake to be washed off by the ridiculously beautiful local women, we saw the approaching tour bus…and then another. As we had had a relaxing and lengthy experience these people got about 5 minutes of time in the mud and I doubt they even got massages. Our whole mud volcano episode, including tips, cost about $10. I am certain I will return, and if any of you visit me, we’ll be sure to go.
mudhawk
mudballet
happy in the mudBarranquilla
Barranquilla
Big city, but prettier than expected. Tourists = zero. People are super friendly and I do not worry about safety. More to come.
Big city, but prettier than expected. Tourists = zero. People are super friendly and I do not worry about safety. More to come.
Saturday, August 15, 2009
Pre-Colombian Times
Pre-Colombian Times
I have traveled a lot in my life and have had many comments on my countries of choice, but I don’t think reactions could be any more varied than when I said, “I’m going to Barranquilla, Colombia to teach 6th grade Language Arts and Social Studies for a year.”
I got everything from, “Make sure to wear a bullet-proof vest,” to “I have heard so many great things about Colombia, don’t believe the bad press it gets.”
I read up and here is what I found out:
There is more that I read and heard, but I mainly from what I gathered, there is danger but using a bit of common sense and street smarts, I should be fine. I heard the people are wonderful. I heard the beaches are beautiful. I figured there wouldn’t be very many tourists in Barranquilla so my Spanish would improve quickly. It was not easy finding a lot of information on Barranquilla, so if you have never heard of it, don’t feel bad.
I was sad to leave Portland, but I wanted to teach in a hot climate, in a Spanish speaking country near (or on) a beach, at a good school. I got what I wanted, nonetheless it was hard to say goodbye to my friends, house, garden, and especially my dog to jump into the great unknown.
I jumped.
Now I’m here and everyday is full of surprises and interesting little vignettes. So far after 10 days, I am happy, safe, and healthy. Please enjoy Livin' la Vida Colombiana.
E
I have traveled a lot in my life and have had many comments on my countries of choice, but I don’t think reactions could be any more varied than when I said, “I’m going to Barranquilla, Colombia to teach 6th grade Language Arts and Social Studies for a year.”
I got everything from, “Make sure to wear a bullet-proof vest,” to “I have heard so many great things about Colombia, don’t believe the bad press it gets.”
I read up and here is what I found out:
- It’s South American country with 45 million people about twice the size of Texas.
- Barranquilla has a population of 1.1 million and is an industrial port city on the Magdalena River a few miles inland from the Caribbean Sea, located between the more beautiful Cartagena and Santa Marta.
- Botero, Gabriel Garcia Marquez, Juanes, and Shakira (she’s from Barranquilla) are all from Colombia.
- The FARC is considered a violent terrorist group that have been involved with the cocaine drug ring – scary.
- Coffee is its other large export.
- Butterflies, orchids, and beaches galore.
- Barranquilla is known for its Carnaval in February which UNESCO calls "masterpieces of the oral and intangible heritage of humanity."
- Although there are dangerous places in Colombia, Barranquilla (like much of the country) has seen a decrease in crime over the past 5 years.
There is more that I read and heard, but I mainly from what I gathered, there is danger but using a bit of common sense and street smarts, I should be fine. I heard the people are wonderful. I heard the beaches are beautiful. I figured there wouldn’t be very many tourists in Barranquilla so my Spanish would improve quickly. It was not easy finding a lot of information on Barranquilla, so if you have never heard of it, don’t feel bad.
I was sad to leave Portland, but I wanted to teach in a hot climate, in a Spanish speaking country near (or on) a beach, at a good school. I got what I wanted, nonetheless it was hard to say goodbye to my friends, house, garden, and especially my dog to jump into the great unknown.
I jumped.
Now I’m here and everyday is full of surprises and interesting little vignettes. So far after 10 days, I am happy, safe, and healthy. Please enjoy Livin' la Vida Colombiana.
E
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