Hilton surveys the landscape...with tea!
Life has moved quite quickly in the last couple of weeks. I’ve been backwards and forwards between Bogota and Medellin a couple of times, spent loads of time on the phone, or having people phone for me, about accommodation, Visa’s, studies and a host of other things that need to get organised ASAP, spent large amounts of time on buses and in taxi’s, packed and lugged my bags around some more and I’ve continued the sometimes bruising and always frenetic process of meeting new people, making connections and getting by.
Some of the friendly locals here in Medellin
One certainly has moments in between all of this, where you start to see the stark contrast between what used to stress you out and the generally relaxed air that you have now adopted in the face of much turmoil and change. One really has little choice in the matter because massive chunks of your life now relies on adapting to situations as opposed to controlling your environment and carefully planning the boundaries of your existence. I often wonder if a more conformist life would see me loose the ability to adapt in this way because I reckon its quite a nice thing to have and, if nothing else, might save you some dough on the tranquilizers and heart medication later on in life. Quieter moments have been less frequent, but enough to still allow me the space to pose some more questions without real answers.
Adaptation is required to eat coagulated blood sausage and bits of intestine...savvy?
....Entonces...aver...where did I last leave you guys? I think it was just before I left for Medellin the first time. Well the bus trip was long and the countryside beautiful in way that had me putting away the camera after the first hour or so because it really would only do the situation justice if one of you could have been sitting next to me and we could’ve giggled together at our wonderful luck for having stumbled across something that so few others from outside this country have had the privilege to see.
A glimpse of the road to Medellin
By the time I arrived here in Medellin, I was sufficiently dreamy (think of the effect of an opiate, for instance) from all the smiling at myself and that didn’t really let up as the people here just continued the happy high. They are so damn friendly!
It started with a lady who was on the same bus as I and who must’ve seen me looking lost in the bus terminal as she was about to disappear in a cab. She called me over and asked if she could help. I tried to explain where I was going but failed so miserably that it took me calling Sergio’s friend Clara so that she could explain what it was that I should be doing (something that has actually happened on a number of occasions now). all the way there she and the driver tried gamely to pry information out of me in my broken Spanish about where I was from, what I was doing in Medellin, how long I’d been in Colombia and other places that I had seen. Now normally this kind of prying might have you react with some kind of suspicion about the pryer’s motives, but I was instantly so sure of their concern and sincere want to help me, that I stuttered on as best I could. This was confirmed when we stopped at my destination and they then even refused to take money from me for the cab ride and waved me goodbye with a cheery ´Buena Suerte´(good luck).
A view of the city
The indomitable little Clara was waiting for me and we walked through a wonderful little neighbourhood called Carlos E Restripo which is where she lives and where the apartment was that I was going to be crashing in for the next couple of days. This other apartment turned out to be her office by day and had some extra bedrooms, one of which they fixed up nicely for me. I also met Paula who works with Clara and together they ensured that I was comfy and well entertained for the next 3/4 days. I was most impressed at how they patiently listened to all my questions about this new place and always went beyond the polite in trying to explain both what I wanted to know and also what they thought I should take note of. I had flashes of the old team at RMB as they mothered me around the city and seemed to take pleasure in my child like unearthing of local gems and small victories.In the next couple of days, I also got to meet Juan Pablo (Clara´s boyfriend) and Catalina (a mutual friend). Everyone seemed to chip in at some stage to either take me somewhere or to further explain or teach something to me.
Paula and Clara....what lovely ladies!
During my 3 days I went to the EAFIT University where I signed up for my first six courses of Spanish. The spot seemed quite a good starting point and they looked somewhat accustomed to having overseas students. This private university is a quite a good one but has the reputation of being slightly ´Fresas´ or `Yupi´ (local word). This basically means preppy or snobbish.
Practically, it means that all the girls have wonderfully sculpted fake boobs which they use every opportunity to flaunt shamelessly. No problems there although I was often privately amused at my own definition of the ‘chest bum’ which seemed quite apt in most cases. Among the young caballeros it is obvious that the mullet is big business here. The exact look of it makes me want to pronounce the word ‘moo-lay‘. Some of the edgier girls even have this annoying fringe with the wild mud flap at the back. Most thankfully don’t though, but it irks me how the guys get the sides of their heads shaved and then have this long curly monstrosity spouting forth at the back with a fringe and longer hair on top. All of this is carried off with an unmistakable air of coolness and has me in fits of laughter all the time. Seriously, it makes me think of some sort of animal fur as it wiggles about when they attempt to entertain a serious conversation with you.
This man's hair is super cool...in Medellin.
So the university seems quite competent and has a number of extra perks that I now qualify for as a full time student. This includes my being able to participate in a number of sports which even include Frisbee (!?) and handball. The one that obviously caught my eye was the rugby team and I plan to go and check that out at my earliest convenience. I will play if I can be sure that they are not too big and that I will be adopted as the foreign player / coach with hero status among the fans. Yesirree, this could be the start of something special.
Furthermore, I get a Spanish language conversation partner to meet with a couple of times a week. They will be an English student and we will swap between the two languages in various sessions to speed up the learning process. Personally I don’t really need this as I know enough people here already, but my budding friendship with the logistics guys in the head office means that I could be spending my time teaching a lovely young lass (they will allow me to first have a look at the registrations photos of course) the finer side of the English language. The non-american version naturally. Yup, I am certainly trying to ensure that I maintain the necessary sense of balance within these first months of learning the language. no use in going over board just yet and I believe that spending the necessary time on the assimilation process is vitally important for me to gain the skills I need for the coming months. erm…
The one thing the university was not so good at doing was advising me on how to get my temporary student VISA and all the requirements for this process. I ended up going to the DAS offices here (like homeland security) and they look like they are spawned from the same monster that created Home Affairs in SA. Juan Pablo spent an afternoon there with me helping to find out what I should be doing. Thankfully it soon appeared that I was supposed to be reporting to the Ministerial de Relationes Exteriores instead, but they were in Bogota. So, I swiftly started planning my trip back to Bogota, armed with all the documentation I could lay my hands on, in order for me to start classes in Medellin around the 11th of Feb.
On my second night in Medellin, Paula and Clara took me to a Salsa Bar in the downtown area called Eslabön Prendido. A great spot which through some weird turn of events also serves great meals as a kind of side speciality. We had a couple of beers along with the best steak I’ve had since leaving SA. My tummy now full, I shifted my attention to the rest of the establishment and the couple of old-timers gathered at the back bar. They were pounding on the bar in anticipation of what I didn’t know, flirting with the barmaids and threatening to break into a dance at any second. Obviously generous amounts of Aguardiente were also being added to the mix. The dark smoky bar, which was kind of like a long passageway from the street, had such a pleasant vibe that I found myself again smiling at my wonderful luck. A bar at the front and the back with tables in between and against the walls. The music: relaxed and authentic Salsa.
A little later Clara excitedly pointed at a young group gathered at the front bar. They had instruments strapped to their backs and they laughed as the crowd around them seemed to be waiting with baited breath. It turned out that these fellows were actually a well known local band who happened to also be friends of the owner. They had come for dinner but also agreed to play a couple of songs for the excited crowd. We were not disappointed as the crowd swelled rapidly and by the time they started playing the place was packed. The whole atmosphere seemed to perfectly fit that of some famous Latin Salsa bands of yesteryear playing in legendary places that I had previously only dreamt about. People started dancing almost immediately and I was literally staring at this spectacle with my mouth hanging open. One couple moved with such electric pace and energy that I was sure that it was my first encounter with crack cocaine in Colombia. The guy seemed to flip this lady around the floor like a light, but treasured, top that was spinning with almost reckless abandon. I couldn’t believe that they didn’t go crashing into the tables at stages. Their feet a complete blur and the hips gyrated and snapped back and forth in a way that I had never seen except maybe on TV. I was enthralled, if a little intimidated as I wondered what my African moves could conjure up in response. I decided to not test it out that evening as I was wearing my slops and Thai fishing pants. Plenty time left for that later and the disturbing comparisons I had heard before leaving about bad dancing in Colombia being something akin to not possessing the ability to wield the braai tongs in SA, had me carefully studying people’s feet and postponing my unleashing of the ´Johnson Rhythm Hurricane´ for some other night. A great evening though and I often imagined a couple of you being completely dazzled in the same way at seeing something like this.
In the meantime, I started looking at prospective areas of the city in which I could stay. My favourite still has to be Carlos E Restrepo. This charming group of apartments with lush gardens and hundreds of noisy little red and blue birds reminds of some places in the lowveld, but more lush and not so hot., or maybe even parts of KZN around Durban. It is also centred around a two block area that is filled with bars and restaurants. What is most cool though has to be the park and walkway area next to the bars and restaurants where, on every night of the week, old and young sit together and chatter for hours in the balmy evening air. There will usually be someone half-heartedly rapping on a Djembe drum or strumming a guitar and the smell of a brazenly smoked joint is almost always wafting through the air. Apparently this is one place in the city where one can smoke out in the open without incurring the wrath of the law. Well, actually it seems that the law just doesn’t come there? This is certainly unusual here in Colombia. There is also an art gallery with posters of the latest exhibition running along this walkway. People mostly go into a small booze take-away shop where two old ladies serve some of the nicest cold beers around at R5 a pop. Everyone then just sits around outside and tries not to stress out too much. Ya seem to run into the same regulars too and it all just smacks of the good life...at least to me.
That’s not to say that this little scene doesn’t play out in some other areas too and I was fortunate enough to go and hang out in another area of town called El Poblado on my last night before returning to Bogota. This place also centres around a park with bars and fast food joints selling Empanada´s, Perro Calientes (hot dogs) and Arepa Chocolos (local version made out of what seems like sweet corn with slices of a light kind of feta cheese on top) lining the perimeter. Its a charming place too and everyone picks up their beers at one of the bars and then hangs out on the benches and edges of the park gardens. I’ve spent a couple of nights there recently and had an amusing incident take place on one particular night.
Clara, Juan Pablo and I were hanging out after we grabbed dinner nearby and we were waiting for Paula and Catalina to join us a little later. A ragged looking fellow with loads of energy approached us brandishing a piece of paper with numbers from one to ten and some unintelligible things scratched into the spaces next to most of them. I viewed him with typically Saffy suspicion and imagined having to clout him upside the head. After an excited exchange with Clara I was made to understand that he was having a ´beer raffle´. This means that you choose a number and pay 2000 pesos (about R8) after which he has a draw and if you win then you get 5 regular beers or 3 big ones (like a quartz). I was in and after he excitedly shouted ´Bienvenido a Medellin Sudafricano!´ I picked my lucky number 6 and he scribbled some description of me next to it. He disappeared as Clara explained to me that he was a regular and that this was how he made his living and that everyone had a real soft spot for him. I tried to imagine a South African equivalent but could get no further than the weirdness of people hanging out in parks and drinking together, never mind trusting a hyper active small fellow with something as crazy as a beer lottery!
It was soon time for the draw and to much fanfare and excited squealing he was able to get one of the pretty ladies in the park to draw the number out of the empty bottom of two litre coke bottle. I knew in that instant and with absolute certainty that I had just used up my one allotted piece of lifetime lottery luck and I was not mistaken as he excitedly shouted, ´Geeeeltoooon Sudafricano!´ much to the surprise of the park regulars. He stormed over and demanded that we tell him what we would like. We opted for three large beers and a packet of chips which we had him throw in extra. Things quickly returned to normal in the park and status quo was filled i.e. I was fairly Borracho (drunk) by the end of the night! Strangely I have started to drink beer here 1) because its so much nicer than beer at home and 2) its just the perfect thing to enjoy in these social settings. A Jameson’s in the park would look a little weird eh?
Its so nice for me to be in a place where people hang out in public spaces without fear. The worst thing one has to worry about is the odd hawker trying to get you to buy some chiclets from them. Seriously, chiclets seem to be the hawkers choice for ‘lucrative’ wares to sell. The drinking in public is fairly cool too and no-one ever really seems to get rowdy or out of hand. I like people-watching and this means that I can often go and sit somewhere for hours on end, watching people mingle and carry on with the relaxed lives that they seem to live so effortlessly here. I must admit that I seem to get stared at quite a lot too even though I try to ‘blend in’ as much as I can. Much to my own amusement, I get called ´Monito´ (Blondie) quite often. Blonde? This is a first for sure.
So after my first couple of days in Medellin I schlepped back to Bogota to go and sort out my VISA along with a couple of other things. The bus trip is long, so I always and naively imagine sleeping for half of it because I even have one of those handy travel pillows that keeps your head upright and the seats in these buses recline really far. No such luck though, as the speed with which these buses take corners just does not allow for any kind of serious slumber. I’ve tried and inevitably, as I’m about to fall asleep, a really sharp corner makes me jump forward clutching the seat in fright as I am again convinced that we are tumbling off the side of the mountain. It took me a trip to the Ministerio to get the temporary student visa requirements and then I was back there the following Monday. To my surprise they gave it to me right there and then. easy peezy and all I had to do then was change my plane ticket. The Visa is valid till halfway through October so I changed my plane ticket to the start of October but I could change it again as it only costs me $25 a pop.
On my last weekend in Bogota Pollito (Maria Amelia’s boyfriend) bought us all tickets to go and watch the opening game of the new soccer season. The match was ironically between a Bogotano and Medellin team and we trooped into the stadium just as it was getting dark on Saturday night. It was a great show and I could not believe the energy of the crowd as they jumped up and down in unison for the entire match...even when the opposition scored! It was mighty nippy and I was shivering in the stands with a long sleeve shirt and a sweater over that. The Bogota fans were obviously not in the same boat as they madly sang and danced without shirts on and in many cases sporting the local teams emblem boldly tattooed on their backs! The one thing that was seriously lacking had to be the cheerleaders. They were nowhere close to the Blue Bull’s Babes and I even had thoughts of Pretoria exporting this much sought after, but ultimately rare skill to places like this. Ah yes, the Bull’s Babes brought back some fond memories of those perfectly synchronised cowgirl movements that have become so synonymous with Loftus.
Anyway, I digress… The one other amusing thing about the match was how adverts were being screened continuously on the big screen while the match was on. The most famous beer here is called Aguila and there is a yearly contest to see who will be the annual Aguila girls. They then take part in a photo shoot which is something like the Sports Illustrated Swimwear Calendar in SA, except that they are all sporting the same skimpy Aguila bikini´s. Lovely little yellow pieces. I wondered how one was possibly supposed to focus on the match with this ‘behind the scenes’ photo shoot expose being beamed and blared out from the one corner of the stadium. I tried gamely but still missed one of the goals.
Latin football hooligans...deceptively dangerous
This is my game face
On the emotional side of things I have missed all of you at different moments in the last couple of weeks. A growing sense of distance has indeed firmly driven the wedge that exists between past and present into my everyday life. I also sometimes miss conversations on the level that I am used to seeing as when one converses in a second language (like the locals speaking English to me and vice versa) the level and depth does tend to drop a little and one more frequently has slightly ‘lighter’ conversations. I have written my thoughts down in the moments where I seem to build up too many that I cannot verbally expel. I received a photo of my old team at RMB this week and that certainly tugged at the heart strings as I recalled the epic last year we had together. I get a similar feeling whenever I get snatches of the lives you are all living now and how it has changed, grown and moved in the last couple of months. I had a great chat with Mayra this last week and one of the things we talked about is the realisation that came to me in the last couple of weeks: That sometimes we travel to move to places where it is more acceptable to feel like a stranger. When you have spent enough time out of the everyday loop, you realise that there will forever be something which alienates you slightly from the places that you find yourself in. Your view is inevitably no longer the same and there is always the knowledge of something which exists beyond that which you live in everyday. That was strangely cathartic for me to think about.
Thanks to everyone who has responded in some way to my last couple of mails. It brings a smile to my face when I get some idea of how my story appears from the other side of the world and, since I’ve posted my stories on Facebook I’ve been blown away by the number of people who, out of the blue, have contacted me to let me know how the pieces have affected them. That is certainly a nice bonus that I get out of something which is more for me to ensure that I don’t forget where I am and what this has moved in me thus far. I often get so absorbed in my furious pursuit of constructive progression towards something generally indefinable, that I forget to sit back and celebrate where I have come from up to now. Its definitely something that my closer mates have berated me for and I hope they can now see that I’m working on it!
So, let me end with another short list of strange things that I have come across in the last two weeks:
- In SA I had become somewhat used to the odd ladies’ undies sticking out from the top of their pants or skirt from time to time. If nothing else it was often a tad amusing especially if it happened to be a very serious kick-ass kind of lady. Well, in Colombia women’s undies NEVER show. This is all the more surprising because of how tight the jean pants are that they wear. But seriously, not once have I even glimpsed the slightest hint of something peaking out. This, from my previous accounts, is quite different when it comes to the blessed Brassiere. This is something for which it seems to be expected to be displayed just as proudly as a nice pair of ear-rings. As I said, no complaints there!
- Antioquian Billiards - This seems to be a traditional game in these parts and is a strange off-shoot of the globally recognised version. there are no pockets on the table whatsoever and the aim of the game, which has only three balls, is to make your ball hit both of the others as well as the side cushions. Successfully achieving that gets you one point and another turn. Seems mighty difficult to me. In the harder version you have to hit the side cushion 3 times before hitting the last ball and some people can do this 20 times in a row! Damn near impossible I reckon, but then again these games seem to go on for hours!
- The other day I got lost in the downtown area and while I was trying to get directions from Clara on the phone I was continuously harassed by the local fruit salesman. This is because, even though they are pushing lowly wooden carts filled with tree tomatoes (lovely things to make juice from), mango’s or watermelons, they still have the means to purchase an extravagant speaker and microphone system with which to blare out the price and quality of their wares. This looked (and sounded) really weird to me as, by implication, when you are merely selling fruit it would appear that electronic equipment of this sort would be slightly out of your reach, right? Well apparently not and I pondered on this while their incessant screeching further plunged me into the darkest corners of the city. A cab rescued me in the end after I stumbled upon a charming live band performance which had the whole street cramming the sidewalk next to the restaurant from which it was emanating.
- Every house here seems to have a blender which people use to make every kind of juice (jugo¨) imaginable for their almuerzo´s (lunch). They all secretly reckon that their technique is best and quite honestly I have never tasted juices this good in my life. Its bloody great having something different with lunch every day. My favourite have to be Guanabana and Tree Tomato (Tamarillo). I’m sad that we don’t have these in SA.
- I recently noticed that most bottles of hard liquor (aguardiente, whisky, vodka being the most common) all have a plastic appendage on the top which looks like those you see in bars (not the long thin ones, but the other ones that allow the booze to come out more slowly), even the small bottles. I also noticed that when a table orders a bottle of hard tack, it is customary to pull the label off after you’re done and there is even a little flap on the label to make it easier to do this. Apparently this is all to stop people from re-using bottles and filling it with ‘fake’ booze which is/was apparently big business over here. Weird.
- I went to a Salsa Bar the other night and in between my floundering through the steps I noticed a big sign which banned Salsa Romantico at that particular establishment. Further enquiries enlightened me to the fact that Salsa Romantico is like a ‘cheaper’ off-shoot of the more traditional form of the dance and it is severely frowned upon by the connoisseurs of proper Salsa. I guess you could look at it as the same bastardising of traditional dancing that Sokkie is in SA. God I hate sokkie so! I can’t imagine Salsa Romantico being that bad. Anyway, I found it kind of weird that a certain way of dancing was not even allowed at this bar! Made me stumble even more and I turned bright red as I secretly resolved to practice in the shower everyday until I get the blasted two step right. What I would give for a good ol’ Zulu high kick or two!
Alright, well that’s it for now. I hope that things are looking up for those of you in SA, although the latest racial cricket row, T-bone’s State of the Nation address and some frightening statements from the ministers would suggest otherwise. The damn currency is in free-fall and I’m taking on water at a rapid rate with the Rand having lost more than 20% to the Colombian Peso since I’ve arrived! Fark!
