No dreaming for you my friend!

My house mate tonight confirmed, in no uncertain terms, that he is one with the life on the street, as he lay sprawled and shivering on the bathroom floor, pathetically covered in a Hilton-gifted blanket (I could do no more) and muttering weakly about the ex-combatant from Bogotá who had finished him with multiple beers and shots of aguardiente in rapid succession.

Those ex-combatants just always seem to have enough nightmares to keep them trapped in sobriety...and how they wish you could join them in that place of woken horrors; or maybe that they could join you in some dream world, in which there still survives some fragments of the life they must have known before they started carrying the ever-inflamed and guilt-oozing existential scab of all this violence, borne to them on the putrefying remains and fearsomely clear piles of flesh, which only the damp earth and brown rivers seem to eventually forget. Either way, drinking with them is a 'shot for shot' exercise, if you will excuse the pun.

I promised not to upload the actual photos so in an ironic twist here is Sergio looking like a Colombian terrorist...fetching indeed!

Maybe, and somewhat ironically, my friend would now appear to be dying a twisted and darkly comedic version of the kind of death that this man must have confronted on so many previous occasions...always with those searching, but ultimately soulless eyes. For both of them salvation seems so far away now, but only one wakes up with the ever-present kind of pain that only death could possibly sooth...

First part of the Easter Holiday

Last week, being Easter and all, saw millions of Colombians swarm to church (that is the catholic church of course) in order to beg forgiveness for their otherwise sordid lives. Well it kinda seemed like that with everyone being the picture of innocence and lily white virginity, at least until the church service was over and the drinking could commence once more.

I was lucky enough to head into the nearby countryside with some mates who had rented a cottage close to a small town called San Jeronimo. The weather was bloody good out there and we spent a couple of days soaking up the rays next to the pool and laughing more than I can remember doing for years. It is possible that this was because of the alcohol being consumed at all hours.

This is Tamarind country with every kind of sweet thing you could imagine!

This little town is very close to Santa Fe which is where I was a couple of weeks ago with some other mates (my adopted mommies in Medellin). Both towns are built in the old Spanish style with the church and plaza in the centre of town. You really have to remind yourself that you're not somewhere in the south of Spain because the similarities to those towns are striking.
Santa Fe is undoubtedly the more popular of the two and this is where loads of Paisas (the word used for people from Antioquia) from Medellin head for the Holy Week. When I first travelled there with Paula, Juan Pablo, Clara and Cata, we spent a relaxing afternoon watching the sun slowly sinking behind the mountains that encircle this little colonial town. I destroyed another Bandeja de Paisa which is a traditional meal from these parts made up of Frijoles (beans cooked slowly for almost a full day), chicharron (kind of like crackling but thicker and with more fat), carne de rez (beef steak) with a huevo (egg) on top, chorizo, arroz (rice), patacones (flattened plantain), ensalada and an arepa (maize flat bread) on the side. Not for the faint hearted I can tell you. This is almost always consumed with a selection of juices made of Lulo, Papaya, Mango, Tamarind and at least ten other fruits that I still don’t know. I loved it but walking was tough afterwards.

This is Bandeja de Paisa. Yummy!

This link is a good one to check for an idea of the kind of food and drink you get here:
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Cuisine_of_Colombia

There is loads of info on the fruits, soups, meats and booze (I.e. Aguardiente, Ron, etc.)

Chilling out after lunch in the plaza of Santa Fe

As the sun dipped further behind the mountains we stopped at the nearby and famous wooden bridge called Puente Occidente (Western Bridge). It is quite an impressive structure which still takes traffic and spans the massive Rio Cauca. Colombianos are quite proud of this engineering feat and why not!? Its kinda strange standing in the middle of it and feeling it sway and shake with the wind and cars. Like all the rivers here Rio Cauca is large and mighty impressive. Africa has some biggies but they really do not touch this continent for sheer size and power.

The Medellin Mommies, River Cauca, Antioquian countryside and some views of Puente Occidente

This time around my trip was with Ruben and the two Natalias who I had literally met two days before. Ruben is another one of the geologist crew (and a sick salsa dancer) who I have met here in Medellin. He recently returned from a two year stint in the UK. Chatting to him has made me grateful for having an SA passport, which I would have never have thought possible before. There are only 4 countries in the world which do not require visas for Colombians!

Ruben and I in front of the church in Santa Fe

Nati Number 1..always close to shops and markets.

Nati number 2 in her natural environment...pool side!

Their mates and significant others made up the rest of the group travelling to the country cottage which they amusingly all refer to as a farm. Maybe farms are different back home but seriously, a house on an average sized stand in a fenced off resort with a pool is not a farm. What the hell do they farm with? Grass and empty beer bottles? Anyway, shopping was all done beforehand and a worrying proportion of it was made up of 2.5 litre bottles of Aguardiente, beer and that devil's broth known as Ron de Medellin. Yuck. Something that I had not seen before are the wildly popular litre boxes of booze being sold over here. They look identical to milk cartons at home (like Everfresh I think) and are obviously made for rapid consumption. I mean it is kind of strange to see apparently good 3 year old rum being sold in a box? Damn near killed me the first time I took one of these cartons out of a fridge, thinking that it was milk for the tea I sorely needed, due to another pounding hangover! Imagine the horror!

Having arrived at the cottage it quickly became clear that this group was made up of the rich local kids. Paisas generally have quite an inflated opinion of themselves compared to the rest of the country and feverishly hold onto all the things that somehow make them different to other Colombianos. This includes their accent (which I am apparently picking up...in Spanish!) and the general perception that Paisa girls are the best thing since sliced bread. It also means that some serious stereo types exist where the ladies and gentlemen over here generally have very specific roles to play. Think of your average Pretoria braai with more makeup and drinking. The ladies make the salads here too! I had a good laugh listening to some of them referring to people from other parts of the country as 'garbage' and generally making sweeping statements about everything from Africa to the local football. The girls had such a strong Koogal accent that it was like being in a Spanish Sandton and the fellas pretty much sat around and plotted around what they wanted to do next. I laughed really hard at times as this was almost as strange for my friend Ruben and Nati as it was for me. At stages the ladies all sat around me and giggled uncontrollably as they tried to teach me more words that would make me undeniably Paisa. I was also incessantly questioned about what I thought of Paisa girls. I generally tend to get mighty uncomfortable at questions which really only have one 'correct' answer that is at odds with what I really think! The cackling applause to my answer seemed to signal that all was ok though. It must be said that once again the levels of general friendliness and warmth were unlike anything I have experienced outside of this country.

The cottage / farm trip gang

Its really strange to be in a place where many cities are literally and quite famously rated according to their women?! The other day I was telling someone that I was maybe going to another town called Pereira. The immediate response I received was that Pereira girls are the easiest in Colombia and I kid you not that every response after that was exactly the same, from girls and guys alike! Must be tough being a girl from Pereira!? I do think that very similar comparisons exist in parts of SA but I reckon that I was lucky enough to personally not have too much exposure to that, due mainly to the places I liked going to and more generally the people that I was close to.

Beer and Colombian Cafe in Santa Fe!

Santa Fe at night with some of the bustling markets

It was good Friday on my second day in San Jeronimo and we moved off to Santa Fe for some late afternoon drinks and to watch the Holy Procession of those guys who look like scary KKK druids. Damn frightening I tell you and made worse by the sickly looking Jesus and Mary that are being carried around with them and the haunting music that this bit piece band plays during the procession. The town is beautiful at night though and everyone had a calm happiness about them which was great to be a part of.

Quite a sight as thousands line the streets for the procession

Yeah this looks a little scary...better not to provoke these fellows

I wonder who washes their robes? Quite impressive really, but is it Mary or Jesus?

One of the stunning Churches in Santa Fe!

I enjoyed the spectacle and we returned home that evening for a massive braai and loads of merriment. I tell you, it was super close to home for me with the meat sizzling away and the drinks flowing. I could almost hear Hugh Bladen’s drunken rugby commentary in the background! Everyone made sure that plenty photos were taken of me supposedly showing off typically Colombian attire and accessories.

Just like Home!

New mates and my Sombrero!

I must confess to knowing very little about what is going on here

Sombrero, Hammock and box rum...distinctly Colombian!

After dinner a pack of cards was produced and a table cleared for the serious business of drinking games. I was already quite tanked at this stage, but the confidence was there and I was sure that I could prevail in these circumstances. Once again I underestimated the Colombian ability to imbibe alcohol. This was also made worse by the games being played in Spanish. This friendly lot actually offered to speak English but I was far to stubborn for that and told them not to be ridiculous…in Spanish of course. At one stage we all had to count and, my abilities now impaired by alcohol, I was taken to the cleaners as maths and counting in another language all became just a tad too difficult for me. Presented with my first tumbler of rum that I had to throw back, I naively asked for a chaser. I was literally handed half a lemon to suck on if required. This was serious stuff and I rolled up my sleeves and silently resolved to take this game by the scruff of the neck as it was now becoming a matter of survival. My head was swimming and I could feel that name-throwing was minutes and not hours away. I picked up my game but was still shown up far too often to really make a recovery. Next a game with cards and 8 spoons was revealed and this became even more complicated. I tell you, the laughing was hysterical at stages and the tears were literally streaming. The vast array of games was impressive and thoroughly enjoyable even if it was interspersed with further revolting shots. I wish I could remember more of them! Obviously my condition was deteriorating and I looked around to see if others were at least struggling somewhat. It seemed like it but I couldn’t be sure. I quipped to Nati, who was sitting next to me, about how roasted we were, so that I could gauge some sort of a response. She replied that in Colombian terms this was getting tipsy. I went cold with fear and it took some minutes for me to accept that I had been thoroughly routed in this battle. I went to bed (first!) about fifteen minutes later and almost broke my neck as I repeatedly tried to get onto the top bunk bed that was assigned to me. Outside, the raucous laughing continued unabated until 6:30 in the morning!

Another Colombian pastime...riding a saddle minus the horse.

The spoon drinking game...absolutely ridiculous!

The next morning, or early afternoon, we headed back to Medellin. A great time was had by all and I thankfully had started to develop a tan again. It has to be said that I was not really contributing to conversation in the car as I hid behind my shades and Ipod, trying desperately to string a thought together. I guess I’m finding it tough to accept that I am now some sort of a geeky foreign lightweight.

My first Days in colombia

Two days flight to Bogota was harrowing to say the very least and then to be greeted with a huge military and security presence at the Bogota El Dorado airport certainly got me a little jumpy. The Visa thing (to get through immigration) took quite long and the intimidating officials searched one of my bags (luckily not the one with half a dried cow in it!). I think the fact that I was carrying a tea pot sort of got them thinking about what I could possibly be up to. The bemused customs official certainly looked at me as if I was mad as he held it up in the air and quizzically scrutinized me. I realised why as soon as I started to look for tea. The stuff is rarer than hen’s teeth.

A view of Bogota from the cable cars leading up to Mount Montserrate

I quickly realised just how limited the English is here in Colombia and all communication was reduced to basic hand gestures and even more basic Spanish being hurled at me quicker than I could unfortunately make sense of it. Sergio (amigo de Colombia) met me at the airport and we were then off to his house to prepare for a big party seeing as it was Friday and local customs should be observed at all times.

It turned out to be an amazing first evening in Bogota at a local club / bar which can be compared to a place like the Bassline in Newtown, Johannesburg. The first peculiar thing I noticed is that any hard liquor order placed at the bar results in you getting either a half jack or a full litre...no shots! It certainly takes commitment to get through that amount of booze! Well five bands, plenty of dancing and a half jack of vodka later I was ready to be led home.

Mayra (amiga de Mexico) arrived the next day and we went to a surprise birthday party for one of Sergio´s friends. This is where I met Aguardiente: an evil drink that is a cross between tequila and ouzo. It is drunk with ten minutes intervals and in shot form. Thankfully after the first bottle I couldn’t really taste anymore and that was good seeing as this stuff is pretty nasty. The walk home was interesting with Mayra falling (as is now customary) into a puddle. I’m surprised she didn’t knock herself out like she usually does. There was also the familiar ‘Eeeeeeltoooonn.....I´m so draaaaaaaaaank´. Ah, how I’ve missed that!

A look at how Aguardiente is administered with Mayra

The birthday boy, Sergio and I. I only look mildly sober...

Alejandro, Mayra and I (sporting the traditional Colombian sombrero). Advanced stage of drunkenness...

Fast forward to now and the three of us are in a small town called Riohacha on the north coast of Colombia. Sergio knows an anthropologist in Bogota who recommended a Wayuu (local indigenous group) guide that we’ve contacted since arriving. This friendly fellow has given us directions to catch a car / taxi to his place (another town called Uribia maybe 1 hour away) through some connections of his own at one of the petrol stations nearby. We are to then buy some hammocks at the local market after which we will report to him. Apparently there will be some sleeping outside....for a while....and we needn’t worry about the rest because this anthropologist friend really knows his sh&t! Well, that’s good then!

Digging into a spread in Riohacha

Incidentally, Mayra and Sergio have taken to calling me Mariquita (may-ree-keeta!) which means sissy. Apparently my asking security related questions with cops and military representation on every street corner makes me a sissy! …and they’re not joking when they say that these people speak NO English! I’m starting to pick up pieces of Spanish conversation now and I can often place it together quite nicely. I travel around with a little notebook of sorts to record new vocabulary. This helps me to understand and improve more all the time. Its going to take a while, but there is certainly progress. I’m also looking to buy Children’s books to help with the learning.

Here are some other strange things that I have noticed since getting here:

• There are a number of very weird things being consumed by the locals here and I came into contact with this first-hand at the church of Montseratte (See pictures below), which overlooks the city of Bogotá, during my visit with Sergio and Mayra. This included fried cow’s intestines and bull’s dick soup (Caldo de Raiz). I also had a warm alcoholic drink called Canelazo which can be compared with Gluhwein seeing as it contains cinnamon and some other herbs and spices. I quite liked that.

Mayra and I in front of the church of Montserrate

Mayra passing through the church of Montserrate with mist giving it an eery air

• There are police and military personnel everywhere. This includes road-blocks, spot checks and someone with a gun being visible almost at all times. One must always carry ID and I was even fingerprinted when buying a cell-phone! Signing a credit card slip always requires adding your Numero de Cedula (like your ID number) and mobile number to the signature.
  
• There are loads of amazing fruits here that I have never seen before and the size of all veggies and fruit is so much bigger than in South Africa. The avocados are literally gigantic!

• Plantains are eaten with everything! They are mashed, fried, baked, etc and basically replace potatoes (which are way more varied and commonly eaten in soups) in your average meal. The most common form is called patacones and this refers to discs of green plantain (not sweet at all like the yellow variety) which are partially cooked, smashed into flat cakes that are about the same size as an average flapjack and fried. Very yummy!
  

Fried plantain with Guallava (guaj-ava)

• People here eat lots of pork, beef, goat and chicken in a number of forms that we are not used to. Meat seems to be cut somewhat differently and quite often there is no direct translation for a specific piece of meat as it is served here.
  

Some of the food being cooked up at Mt. Montserratte. This includes the intestines and stomache!

• There is a lots of drinking by the locals and once it starts it usually seems to end with serious inebriation.
  
• Riohacha is very similar to a typical Mozambican town like Inhambane. It is right on the water front with lots of palm trees, plenty of cervesa adverts and locals selling a multitude of wares to the tourists relaxing in the bars running along the length of the beach.
  
• The Wayuu people are the indigenous tribe from these parts and they mostly sell their wares on the waterfront. Little children, who mostly have an elder boy looking after them compete for your attention and its hard not to give it as they are remarkably cute and have irrepressible self confidence. When mom calls the eldest for meals or at the end of the day they all scurry home with some urgency. They have incredibly striking Indian features and are absolutely beautiful. The little ones loved my elephant hair bracelet.
  
• There are vendors everywhere with thermos flasks that just sell coffee. Coffee is massive here. As a result I shall have to have tea sent to me from home. It must be said however that this coffee is pretty damn good. You can order it with Arequipa (kind of like condensed milk) too and that is really nice! Sergio pulls his nose up at me drinking milk and sugar with my coffee. Weird.


• Push up bras are massive here too. ‘Chest bums’ is what it effectively boils down to I reckon and yes, I have been busted staring although I don’t feel that bad because I seem to get stared at all the time!
  
• There is just a large dose of la vida Latino everywhere, especially with the coming Felize Navidad (Christmas), which you really need to experience seeing as its hard to do justice through any sort of explanation on my part.