More from the Amazon

I have to write more about our days in Puerto Nariño, the jumping-off point for our jungle adventures. Forgive me the length of this post. It's just that there is so much to tell.

The first day we went on a boat trip to Lake Tarapoto, home of the famous pink dolphins. We only saw a couple that were kind of purple but to cruise down the Amazon in a little motor boat was incredible. We stopped in an indigenous village and later went for a swim in the river's very murky waters. I was sure something was going to attack us, but we emerged unscathed by either pirañas or any other scary critter.

The next day was our first big hike, this one to a different indigenous community called San Martín. It was a three-hour trek through the most mosquito-infested place I have ever been. They positively swarmed around us. On an otherwise tranquil hike, we did have a slightly nerve-wracking moment when we unexpectedly hit the end of the trail -- not where we were supposed to or where the boat was supposed to meet us. Fortunately, we came across a local Ticuna man, his hands and face painted a dark blue color from a plant dye used by indigenous people in the area, with a dugout canoe who ferried us across a stream so we could continue our trek. When we finally made it to San Martín we were greeted by, among other curious onlookers, by a toddler yelling "Turistas!" as we passed. It was hilarious yet disturbing at the same time. The kind of surreal experience continued as the local drunk insisted on being our tour guide through the community. Finally -- when, I swear, I didn't think I could walk another step in the rubber boots we had to wear for this muddy hike -- we headed back to Puerto Nariño by boat.

Our last full day in Puerto Nariño we went on a much more hard-core, much more jungly hike. We tromped through mud and grasses taller than us. We ate wild grapes and tasted some local yucca moonshine-like drink (not particulalry tasty). We walked through several communities (one complete with soccer field and covered bridges) in the middle of nowhere. Again, the silly-looking and spectacularly uncomfortable rubber boots proved to be the best $7.50 I've spent in a while. It was worth every step in them, following our guide Saúl who cleared the path with his machete when necessary and taking in the green that surrounded us and the blue sky when we could see it.

Now we are back in Leticia, winding down our trip -- but not before we go to Peru for a ceviche lunch. Last night's stay in the indigenous community didn't happen because it was actually REALLY expensive. So instead, we walked across the border to Brazil to try some Brazilian beer (far superior to Colombia's most popular brand, Aguila) and to buy some Hawaiana (i.e. kind of trendy (?) and over-priced in the States) flip flops and $3.50 cahaça. I see homemade caipirinhas in our future.

In sum, if you ever have a chance to come to this sweltering part of the world -- home to skies that seem bigger than in other places, even when the daily rain clouds roll in, as well as to this enormous river that cuts through a dense jungle populated by isolated communities of indigenous people trying to both preserve and share their customs and traditions -- take it. You will feel as lucky as I do to have been so far from the rest of the world and seen such wonderfully different things.

Amazon dispatch

Just a brief update from the sweltering Amazon.

This trip has been as fun and random and restful and restorative as I had hoped. Moira, Evan, and I have been to Brazil for dinner, gone dancing with two Colombian policemen (?!), and eaten meat on a stick -- and that was all on our first night. On day two we got poured on (big shocker in the rainforest) while kayaking on a tiny Amazon tributary.

We are just back from the jungle and as stinky as you would expect. But we had two incredible, loooong, sweaty jungle hikes in our stylin' new rubber boots and are headed tonight to stay in an indigenous village outside of Leticia. I expect that for dinner we will have fish and fried plantains (patacones), which I have eaten twice a day, everyday since I got here. I am about to turn into a patacon. Tomorrow we are determined to have ceviche for lunch -- in Peru.

There is so much more to tell, but it will have to wait til I get back to Bogotà with a better connection and a less crappy keyboard.

Adventure!

I had been afraid that I would fall off the blog writing wagon at some point, and I certainly did. For what it's worth, the last couple of months have been a blur of work and work, with some time with great new friends sprinkled in there. I mean, I could have written more about how Colombian social and economic inequality are demonstrated every day at my school or how I was struggling to keep up with my Modern World History class, trying to teach the Vikings and the Mongols for the fist time. But I didn't.

So now the semester is over, and I have just embarked on a trip to the Amazon. I arrived in Leticia today. It's the "big" town in the region -- a grid of tiny streets swarming with motorcycles. (I almost got run over by one in my first 5 minutes here. I mean really close).

We flew in over the rainforest, which was pretty amazing. A sea of green as far as the eye could see, interrupted here and there by barren patches with felled trees, which was a good reminder of how hard life can be in this remote area. When I stepped off the plane my glasses fogged up; it is THAT hot and humid here. Not that I didn't expect it, but. . . Not to over-share, but ladies, you'll understand this. It's so hot that you get that insta-under-boob sweat. Not to mention that my hair is already plastered to my head.

While I wait for my friends Evan and Moira to arrive, I am getting settled in town and at the hostel where we're staying. It's 9 blocks from the river (which I haven't seen yet) and about 7 from Brazil.

Signing off to go find some exotic fruit juice. I think this is going to be a great trip.

The cumbia of the disconnected

This is a belated post about another part of my trip to Medellín: a small protest that I went to with a friend who works for a human rights organization here in Colombia. (You can check out their work at http://forcolombia.org/). The event was set up by a regional coalition of human rights and community development groups and was protesting increased privatization and price hikes in public utilities, both of which make them prohibitively expensive and means that many people end up without water or electricity services.

After a breathtaking and, OK slightly scary, ride up Medellín's cable car I arrived in one of the comunas, Medellín's poor neighborhoods built up the steep side of the mountains that surround the city. Organizers had decided to do the march in the neighborhood rather than in the city center in order to spread awareness among other people affected by the price hikes, letting them know that people are trying to resist them. My friend and I met up with the marchers and started walking along with them. The organizers had made this event a festive one. There were lots of kids running alongside, young boys on stilts, lots of drums, and clowns in tutus. The march was a short walk and didn't have a huge number of participants, but did have a lots of spectators hanging out the windows and sitting on balconies of their homes. The march ended in a litle parking lot, where a guy with a microphone read the banners as they came in and where, eventually, salsa music kept the party-like mood going. One of the best moments was when they played a song someone had written called "The cumbia of the disconnected," a cumbia (another music/dance style here that gets played along with salsa in dance clubs). Despite its upbeat rythmn, the song was a lament about having to decide between buying food and paying the bills.

The event wound down -- with salsa still playing in the background and some people dancing -- with an invitation for everyone to share some bread and cheese and hot chocolate from a giant vat. It still felt like a party, but as scraggly-looking kids came out of the woodwork for some food, it also reminded me of how many people here are hungry.

All in all, the march gave me a chance to feel a little less ignorant about the problems here and about how people at every level are struggling to make Colombia's a less unequal society. I was a million miles from the immaculate and manicured campus of my school, and frankly, I was glad to be there for a change.

Medellín: where orchids grow wild & the mullet is alive and well

My trip last week to Medellín was just a chance to get a change of scenery and visit a new place. After hearing rave reviews, I have to admit I was underwhelmed. I'm not exactly sure what I expected, but it wasn't that.

Downtown Medellín is a crowded, gritty place where street vendors abound. With them, you can make a cell phone call, get weighed, and buy anything from mangoes to porn. Shops in the downtown are a series of consecutive purveyors of all things straight off the boat from China: a pleather shoe store, a shop that sells nothing but flip flops, and lots of places to buy spandex outfits (I decided against it) and multi-pair packs of crummy polyester underwear. It wasn't pretty, but my walk through the downtown area gave me a glimpse of a different side of Colombia than I see in my snooty Bogotá neighborhood.

Besides, I shouldn't have started with the low-lights. My morning exploring Medellín reminded me of being in Mexico City because I was on a mission to see every piece of art by Fernando Botero, just like I was in Mexico City to see evertthing I could by Diego Rivera. I started the Plazoleta de las Esculturas, a plaza full of sculptures by Medellín's iconic native son, artist Fernando Botero. They are just kind of there -- with people bustling all around them, and they are lovely. Then I went into the Museo de Antioquia that's right on the plaza; again, full of Botero sculptures, paintings, and sketches. As if that weren't enough, then I trekked over to another plaza to see the sculptured I most wanted to check out: the dove. Botero made a big bronze sculpture of a peace dove I don't know when, but it was blown up in 1995 in an attack that killed over 20 people. He urged the city to leave the destroyed statue there as a symbol of the violence that continues to affect millions of Colombians everyday. So the warped and gaping sculpture is still in the same spot -- next to a new sculpture of a dove that Botero gave as a gift to the city.

I saw some other sights while I was in Medellín, but I think it would be boring if I just talked all about them here. So I will close with the observation that no blog entry is complete if I don't list a couple of cool or weird or unique things that I have seen in Colombia, in this case, in Medellín.

1. Orchids growing like any other tropical plant on the street near my hotel

2. Many men with mullets, including some pretty severe ones that featured really closely cut hair on top

3. In the botanical garden, a very heavily armed security guard (no big shocker there)... riding a bicycle in circles like he was a 10 year-old showing off to his friends but with a shotgun strapped across his chest.

4. Also in the botanical garden, a guy jogging while wearing a motorcycle helmet on his head

And finally, the best/worst response I've ever gotten upon asking an airline employee about the status of our plane (during a five hour delay): "It should be leaving at 12:30, God willing."

Ommmmmm

It's only taken me two months, but I finally got my sorry ass to a yoga class today. It took me half an hour in a cab to get to the studio in a really fancy neighborhood, and the class was super expensive, but it was so worth it. Needless to say, it didn't hold a candle to Bev's classes in Boston, but it will do.

But probably the best thing about the class was the other lady who was in it with me. Her name is Ita. She is a very suntanned woman who lives in Miami and whose voice sounds like she smokes a pack a day. She said about ten times before we started how happy she was to be there and at the end of class, when the teacher was leading us in this gratitude thing and said something about all the people in the world who don't get to experience the gift of yoga, Ita said "pobrecitos" (poor things).

Very generously, she offered to drive me home. So I got into her big Jeep Cherokee with two-inch thick windows and was off on what turned out to be a hilarious ride. One of the first things she said to me was that I should get a boyfriend. I tried to point out that you don't really just go out and get one, but she was not convinced. She asked how old I am and seemed to be thinking really hard after I told her I am 34. As it turned out, she was going through her mental Rolodex of anyone she knows who's my age. She came up with two married couples who don't have kids and should have some friends for me to meet. She did have a follow-up question and asked if I was Jewish. Since she had already told me that her son is studying at a yeshiva in Israel, I knew that no was kind of the wrong answer. "But Sarah is a Jewish name," she said. And then she launched into a spiel about Sarah and Abraham and Ishmael and Biblical numerology. When we pulled up at a stop light with a bunch of street vendors, she bought 2 packages of garbage bags (a very popular buy-on-the-street item here -- go figure) and insisted on giving me one. What a trip!

Yankees go home!

I saw that spray-painted on a wall this afternoon, and it just got me thinking about the war here and how removed from it I am and how little I know about it. I am a long way from my Witness for Peace days when I could have told you a LOT about the armed conflict here. While I remain buried in work, I know I need to come out of my bubble of ignorance. I depend a lot on my old Witness for Peace and other human rights worker friends to help me have a little bit of a clue.

So for this post, I am cheating, and I am just posting a link to an article my friend Moira wrote. I came home and read it just to get a clue. You should read it too.

http://thewip.net/contributors/2009/09/colombias_war_hes_giving_our_c.html

Ahhh, the funny things continue

This past Friday stood in stark contrast to the 7-Eleven musical booze-fest of last Friday. I went with my friend to the "Zona T," the upscale, hipster part of Bogotá. Skinny jeans and high-heeled ankle boots were in abundance, as were big boobs and big earrings. Looking decidedly less fancy and not giving a rat's ass, I was so excited because we went to this pan-Asian restaurant called Wok. People: I can get Thai green curry in Bogotá!!! Some of you know how major that is. I am beyond thrilled, especially since it turns out that there's another Wok like 15 minutes by foot from my apartment.

I can't remember if I have written about this before (I must have), but some of my new gringo friends and I have started a tradition we call "Mimosa Sunday" which, big shocker, involves getting together early on Sunday afternoon and putting back a bunch of mimosas made with Colombia's finest sparkling white wine. (It's not as bad as you might think!) Anyway, this week our usual plans were thwarted by the Liberal Party's election of their presidential candidate: election/voting day = no alcohol for sale. After discovering this on my way to the get-together, I ran back to my house to grab the only alcohol I had: a bottle of Havana Club rum. So this week, along with our kind of brunch-y food, we had a rum and coke Sunday.

But possibly the highlight of my day yesterday was the journey to my friend's apartment. Another friend and I took (me for the first time) the TransMilenio -- Bogotá's express bus/trolley-like service. It's pretty lame that it has taken me this long to ride that stupid thing. It's a 15 minute walk from my apartment, goes pretty much everywhere, and costs 75 cents. Anyway, so I finally navigated it with some help (it IS a little confusing at first). It was fitting that at one point I got to experience it as the "TransMilleno." (Lleno means full, and I have not pushed so hard through people to get off a bus for a long, long time). But, hands-down, the highlight of this trip was the discovery of a commuter habit I have never seen anywhere in the world. As eager as they may be to snag a seat on the bus, Colombians apparently do not like to sit down on a seat that somebody else's buns have already warmed up. So, they claim a seat, but then they don't sit down. They squat/hover over the seat in order to give it a chance to cool off, and only after a minute or so of giving their thighs a good workout do they park their butt in the seat. I was fascinated. It was awesome. Even more awesome than this sight I saw today: a guy on a Vespa with a black Lab and a Goldren Retriever perched in the front. Yeah, you can't really make this stuff up.

Unexpected entertainment

As if it weren't awesome enough that you can go to the Colombian equivalent of a 7-Eleven, sit at microscopic tables, and drink beers, last night the experience got rounded out by a band. They came into this tiny place with giant amps, booted me and my friend out of our table (which the "waiter" parked in front of the entrance to the building next door), and were set up in like two minutes. When the accordian came out, we knew we were in for some vallenato, a uniquely Colombian style of music that is ubiquitous at clubs, on the radio, in taxis -- you name it.

Little did we know, this band was sponsored by Aguila (one of the Colombian beers). How did we find out? When they busted out and put on matching yellow vests with the Aguila logo on the front and the back. They looked like some kind of U.N. observer vests with a beer logo on them.

Ah, but when they got going, making conversation 100% impossible, they were a trip! First of all, they didn't suck, which was a relief. They had a lot of heart. The lead singer worked up a sweat from singing and playing what looked like a cheese grater. The accordian player -- also very sweaty -- closed his eyes and was clearly on another planet. The bass player, like many I have seen, actually, kind of stood off to the side, head down, and did his own thing. The only thing missing was his hair hanging down in his face. The guy playing the bongo drum just rocked out.

If I hadn't been starving (the yucca chips were just not cutting it), I would have insisted that we stay longer to people-watch if nothing else. There was a table full of young people plowing through beers like it was their job, a middle-aged couple serenely sitting next to one of the amps, and a lady with a laptop strapped to her chest offering free lighters and electronic gambling of some sort. Even my gross chicharrones that I had for dinner couldn't overshadow the fact that it was a great night to be in Bogotá.

A little homesick, actually

After having another great weekly online chat session with one friend last night, after missing another dear friend's mom's memorial celebration on Saturday, and after laughing my ass off in a wonderful Skype session with still another friend last week, I decided today that I wasn't quite sure I could make it til Christmas to see everyone. Even though I already have tickets to go to Medellín and I know it's pretty wussy and I know I haven't been gone very long, I decided to look at fares to go to Boston during my five days off next month. In the hour between the time I decided to look and when I actually did, I started to get really excited at the prospect of seeing people. In the subsequent five minutes -- in which I ascertained that the ticket would be like $700 -- I got really bummed, really fast. Oh right! This is what it feels like to be far away from people you care about. You can't just get on a plane and go see them because you want to. You have to suck up the fact that you don't get to see them or give them the big hug you'd like to, when you'd like to. This is really the first time I've felt this way since I've been here. I guess Skype and G-chat and all that stuff is a double-edged sword. While it makes people feel less far away, it tricks you into forgetting how far away they actually are. So for all of you, including those I mentioned here (you know who you are), I miss you. And I am trusting that December will be here before we know it.

Home sweet home

I have finally, officially, pretty completely settled into what really feels like my apartment. I had a bookcase made, got some plants, and most importantly, hired a handyman to come and drill holes in my concrete walls so I could hang my re-framed pictures. Now it really does feel like my place. It is still tiny, and the kitchen is still kind of a pain in the ass, but is definitely home.

Things here continue apace. Work is very busy, and I have a pile of grading that I am avoiding by writing here. It's funny about work though (and I may have already written this so sorry for the redundancy if I have). There are days when I feel 100% clueless and see people I swear I have never laid eyes on before. Then there are other days when I feel like I've been there for a long time. Those days feel good.

And of course, there are always kind of wacky things about Colombia that continue to crack me up. Who knew that the supermarket would give me so much fodder, but today I had some great moments there. First of all, in conjunction with a sweepstakes with the grand prize of a trip to Argentina, a coffee company provided TANGO DANCERS to draw people in. It worked for me. I had to investigate once I heard the music and applause. The second great thing about the supermarket (which is a total of about four blocks from my apartment) is that if your bags are too heavy for you to carry and you live close by, someone will wheel a shopping cart TO YOUR HOUSE for you. Yep. I strolled down my street today with a guy pushing a shopping cart full of my stuff. It was awesome. Although he didn't really get why I was so excited about it even though I told him that stores do not offer that service in the States.

Finally, I am super excited to have some developments on the travel front. I am going to check out Medellín in October and am traveling with a friend to the Amazon in December before I head back to the States!! Plus, my Semana Santa visitors -- Fiona & Sam -- and I bought our tickets to go to Popayán (a colonial city famous for its Holy Week celebrations) in March. Yes, these are some of the reasons I decided to make this big move.

Bitter & sweet

Time has obviously gotten away from me here. And I was doing so well keeping up with the blog! Let's just say that there has been a LOT of reading, grading, and meeting going on -- all tempered with a sane dose of apartment-fixing-up and mimosa drinking on a few Sundays in a row.

But today I had a truly priceless episode of cross-cultural communication. I described something I was going to give my students as "dorky," at which point I totally lost them. So what ensued was a 10 minute conversation in which I tried to explain -- using both English and Spanish words -- the meaning of the words "dork" and "dorky." It was fantastic (and, I think, moderately successful). That's the "sweet" in the title of this post.

The "bitter" is that I continue to be struck by and struggle with some of the class issues that are laid bare here in a way they aren't always in the States. It's pretty much all school-related. I see it especially on the bus in the morning (and sorry if this is redundant), when the kids' maids carry their backpacks before they see them off -- usually without a word of good-bye or thanks. When they get on the bus, they often don't respond to the greeting of the driver or the monitor, who invariably greets them by name. I've never seen a kid at school acknowledge any of the cleaning or maintenance staff. I really think these people are invisible to these kids. And they are the people who clean up after them, take care of them, and feed them. They are the people who keep our campus and these kids' homes immaculate. It's really difficult to observe day in and day out. But I know it's not just the kids. Our school supports some low-income public schools with tutoring, administration, and supplies. This weekend the kids from that school are coming to campus, and today we got an e-mail reminder from the prinicpal to lock up all our stuff in our classrooms. I know things disappear whenever outsiders come to a school campus, but it left a bad taste in my mouth.

Sorry this is kind of a downer! Next post should be much brighter; I am going away this weekend to a place called Villa de Leyva that is supposed to be beautiful.

Now: my heaps and piles of Spanish homework, which this week includes a 10-minute oral presentation.

School days

The slow process of figuring things out at school continues. The panic about it ebbs and flows. Yesterday I was freaking out about one thing -- thinking I hadn't done something I was supposed to -- but found out I was totally off the hook for it. It was a huge relief, but almost at the same moment I found out about two other things I am responsible for; I had had no idea about either of them. That back-and-forth is kind of par for the course these days. Nonetheless, there are cool moments of levity, like when the kids are allowed to blast salsa music on the outdoor speakers during Friday lunch time. It was kind of awesome to be working in my office with that playing in the background.

As far as the kids and my classes go, things are pretty good. I remembered the other day that teenagers are teenagers. It doesn't matter if they are privileged Colombian kids or special ed kids in Boston. Fortunately, for the most part, they crack me up. Unfortunately, one of my classes has figured out that that's a good way to get me off track. There's one kid in particular who gets me every time. For example, he is very insecure about his English skills, and I am forever on his case to quit speaking Spanish. But, of course, I have slipped a couple of times, and as soon as I say something en español, he is on my case. The other day I had the class do this assembly line simulation thing as we're studying the Industrial Revolution. I was the line boss, and the name has stuck. To three of the boys in that class, I am no longer Sarah; I am "boss."

Nearby

So it turns out that one of the most picturesque and hip neighborhoods in Bogotá -- Usaquén -- is just a twenty minute walk from my apartment. What a great discovery to make yesterday with a few friends! There's an open air market on Sundays and holidays (yesterday was the Feast of the Assumption), plus a zillion cool, different restaurants and small boutiques. The sun actually shone all day yesterday (never happens), so we just walked and walked and walked. It felt so indulgent, but I had gotten up at 6:30 to work on school stuff and had already logged a few hours by lunchtime.

Now it's back to work. It's nice to have a four day week, though. Of course, inevitably thjat means cramming five days of work into four! On the bright side, one of the things I have to do this week for school is watch the movie "Fast Food Nation," which should be great!

Lazy Saturday

After way too long here, I finally went on a much more thorough exploration of my hood today and made some good discoveries. I found an awesome fruit and vegetable supermarket, a gym (that ripped off the Boston Sports Club logo), a tailor, a good hardware store, an electronics store, a mediocre ceviche restaurant, and a glass cutting/framing shop. (I need that last one to replace the glass in ALL of the large frames I sent since they got broken in transit). I felt extremely productive.

I've been thinking about how time works so differently and inconsistently here. On the one hand, I dropped off three pairs of pants to be altered this a.m., and they will be ready on Tuesday (Monday is a holiday -- the Feast of the Assumption). Similarly, I called my cable company about my messed up TV, and they sent a guy out today. On the other hand, I have been trying for three weeks to get the password on my phone reset, so I can use the voicemail. Oh well, what are you going to do? This is also the place where, as I found out today when I scheduled one for a friend, walking tours of the historic center may be cancelled for heavy rain or demonstrations.

Winding down week one

I am so tired today I can't even tell you. I have been waking up before 5:00 for the last several days and am just not sure if it is sustainable. I am going to have to figure something out.

ANYWAY, things are still going pretty well. Work is really starting to pile up as I get into my classes and into my other responsibilities as department coordinator. But my coworkers continue to be just lovely, helpful, patient people who don't seem to take offense when I ask their name for the hundredth time after they tell me for the tenth time where the teachers' room is. God, I feel like an idiot most of the time.

I am definitely liking the kids a lot. Most of them are really darling; I am lucky to have some who are really good students who clearly want to do really well. Of course, some of them are a little difficult, but it's just very garden-variety, low-level, not speaking in English (which they are supposed to do in my class at all times!) disruptiveness. I'm confident we'll work it out. Maybe I should mention that in my last job I physically restrained kids.

And I am continuing to navigate the funny things about the school, like the delicate art of getting my supplies doled out to me by Susanita, the bookstore lady whom I think I've already mentioned. Yesterday I went to officially get my stuff. (She puts together a meticulously inventoried plastic bag of things for you). I had one of those forehead-smacking moments of operating in a foreign language when I asked for some post-its. I launched into this rambling description of "the small yellow, square papers that stick to things." She said, "Oh, Post-Its?" (pronounced post-eets). Yeah, Susanita. I mean post-eets.

Days one and two

Yesterday I was just too exhausted to write anything, and today I am even more tired but feel like I need to fill people in.

My first day went well. It started really early (bus comes at 6:20) with a lot of weaving in and out of Bogotá traffic before finally bouncing down the unpaved road to the school. Being on the bus with the kids wasn't nearly as weird as I thought it would be; teachers just sit up front, and there's a bus monitor lady to deal with any behaviors. It's actually on the bus that you first get a reminder of where we are and what the realities are here. Like my friend said the other day when we stopped at a military checkpoint, "welcome to life in a war-zone." Everyone gets their thumbprint scanned when they get on the bus. I'm not exactly sure why, but I wouldn't be surprised if it had something to do with the risk of kidnapping for these kids of the Colombian elite. And today something was up because for many block of our ride there were military police with big-ass guns every five feet. I am not trying to be alarmist with this digression, but I think it's good for me to get these reminders of what's really going on in the country I live. It's too easy to be in a bubble. Thank goodness for the forensic anthropologists I met the other night and my human rights worker friends!

ANYWAY, I actually really enjoyed my classes yesterday and today. I have a tiny class (5 kids -- I told them we're going to call it a seminar because it sounds much more collegiate) for AP Modern World History. That's my 1450 (though we're actually starting further back) to 1914 class. It's going to be tough because that's where I am weakest on content. My Pre-AP Contemporary History class has 16 kids and is a whole different ball game. It's mostly 9th graders new to the high school and just generally a chattier bunch. There are a couple of kids I already have my eye on, including one girl who turned in her homework today -- after I watched her do the whole thing in class. We're going to have a little chat tomorrow. That said, there are some really motivated kids in there who are just lovely. I cannot begin to describe how far at the other end of the spectrum these kids are compared my little bandits at Gifford (who, by the way, I really miss). Side note: for those people lucky enough to know him, I told a great Bobby P. story today.

There are lots of little things that are a trip about the school. The lunches are out of this world, and you can eat at one of the tables outside under an umbrella. Of course, when the sun goes behind a cloud, the temperature drops 800 degrees, and suddenly being outside is a lot less enjoyable. What else? In the teachers' room they have fresh herbs for you to make herbal tea (mint, lemongrass, cammomile). The supplies lady is a very crotchety woman named Susanita. You REALLY need to be on her good side. I think I may have been overly solicitous when I practically got down on one knee to thank her for my ration of paper. (That's for all my printing and photocopying, by the way). It's so strange -- or maybe not -- but the school is in some ways a real microcosm of Colombia. For example, goods are really expensive here (e.g. my $45 drying rack), whereas services are super cheap (e.g. my $11 leg waxing done in my home). So at school, there are a million people working and taking care of things. We had a meeting after school today, and Mercedes the main kitchen lady served us snacks and tea or coffee individually. Also, there's a woman (an underling of Susanita) whose job it is to collect all copy jobs from all over campus. She comes to my office everyday to see if I have anything. At the same time, with all these people practically waiting on you, they ration copy paper as if it were WWII-era sugar.

I'm sure this is all the tip of the iceberg. I know I have a LOT to learn.

Big night out, big day tomorrow

Last night I went with a bunch of my co-workers to a Bogotá institution that can best be described as a steakhouse/carnival/dance club. That is to say, this place is almost impossible to describe. It is beyond packed. The wait staff wear cowboy-inspired (I think) leather aprons. Straw hats and sashes get passed around. You can get your picture taken with two guys who carry around a mannequin leg with a garter on it, and they hold it up in the air/over a guy's shoulder to make it look like it's your leg and that you are in a very compromising position. My mojito came in a hollowed out gourd. They play great Latin music and cheesy American and British 80s and 90s pop. Needless to say, it was a great time, and I promise any visitor that we will go there.

Today on the other hand has been hours of poring over the year-, semester-, and week-long lesson/ course plans of everyone in my department. Now, as I try not to go completely mental stressing about my first day at school with the kids tomorrow, I will do my homework on Indian Ocean trade routes starting circa 500 C.E. It's going to be a long afternoon and evening, and the bus comes at 6:20 tomorrow morning.

Day trip

I decided that, since it is a long weekend, I would give myself one day off from my studying up on the Tang and Song dynasties (!!!) and my reviewing of unit and lesson plans from grades 1-11. I went with some lovely new friends (introduced to me by my friend Michael, who many of you know about) to a little bitty town about an hour away via winding mountain roads called Choachí. The idea was to get out of the city and down to a lower altitude to warm up a little bit.

The day definitely got off to a very Colombian start. My friend Kelli had talked to the taxi company like three times on Thursday night and twice yesterday morning to ensure that we got a little van taxi since we were five people. At the appointed hour a hatchback showed up. Many phone calls later, Argemiro the taxi driver in a van that looked like a wind up-toy arrived. There was still only one bench of seats, but the size of the "van" permitted a stool to be placed in the back for a fifth person. Anyway, we ultimately had a really lovely, warm day, a great lunch outside, and a long walk through lovely scenery. This truly is a beautiful country. I hope you get to see it soon!



We had not gotten far outside of Bogotá, and had already driven past soldiers stationed along the road, when we pulled up behing a long line of cars at a dead stop. Not surprisingly, it was a military checkpoint. That wouldn't have been such a big deal, except that the word on the street was that the soldiers had found a package in a car that maybe was drugs. The bomb squad also showed up, so I guess that was a possibility too. When our driver looked into it, we were told the wait would be about a half hour. . . or two hours. We lucked out and got on our way pretty quickly.

Some random things I've learned

It has to be said that a fresh piece of even very mediocre pizza can taste pretty damn good. Anyone who knows me well knows how I feel about chicken on pizza. (It has no place there!!) But I went with the chicken & mushroom (a popular combo here) because it was the only one that didn't involve pineapple or corn.

So I've learned some great tidbits from Dennis, the Irish teacher who lives in my building. First of all, I had wondered why a couple of the entrances into my neighborhood have guard houses and one of those long arm thingies that has to be raised to let cars through. Apparently, a lot of narco-traffickers and other shady but influential rich people used to live around here. I guess it's not so surprising, since at one end of my street is the Bogotá Country Club (known here just as "el Country"), where apparently President Uribe entertains foreign dignitaries. According to Dennis, when the president is there, there are soldiers all up and down our street. I promise to post a picture of that if it happens while I'm here.

The other crazy thing he told me was about how it works when we get paid at Christmastime if you want to get cash in euros or dollars. (We get a big lump-sum chunk of our salary at once for some reason). Apparently, the money exchange bureaus give better rates than the banks, so you have to take out your money from the bank in cash and then take it to the exchange place. Because of [mom & dad don't freak out] the, uh, sometimes precarious security situation here, the bank provides you with an armed police escort -- a couple of motorcycle cops with sirens and the whole bit. The cops stay with you in the money exchange place and then take you home. Maybe I can just do a wire transfer.

Funny how things go sometimes

I think I mentioned to a lot of people in Boston that one of the things I was really ... not worried about... but thinking about before I came was how important I thought it was for me to NOT sit with the other gringo teachers at lunch on the first day of school. I was kind of nervous about having to just jump in with the Colombian teachers and my rusty Spanish, but I felt really strongly that it was important to do in order to start off on the right foot. As it turns out, I had my nervousness completely backwards. Yesterday I happened to sit with almost all of the gringo teachers at lunch, and I was SO uncomfortable after days of easily having lunch and "onces" or "elevenses" (mid-morning coffee break that we have at 9:30?) with a slew of different Colombian teachers. I felt like I stood out like a sore thumb and that I was isolating myself so conspicuously. From here on out, I plan to really avoid doing that. I can't begin to describe how wierd and lousy it felt.

Things are looking better still

The dept. meeting went well today. It was nothing earth-shattering, but I think it went well. It was really good to get to do some work with my colleagues in the department, especially the woman who is teaching the same courses as I am. We did some really good planning together, and I think it's going to go well. That said, I can see it is going to be very difficult to juggle my teaching & my chair responsibilities -- it already is! But, I am relieved to just be teaching one section of each of my two preps, and one of my classes only has five kids in it. And history classes only meet four times a week, so my teaching load could be a LOT worse. Now the next big challenge in that dept. is going to be when I run a meeting in Spanish!!! But I am not going to worry about that now.

In the continuing apartment saga, a guy came and fixed my burners today! Yippee! They actually got REALLY hot, and I am despairing a little less about the cooking situation. Now for the oven. . .

Anxiety hurdle #2

I made it over today, though I was all nerves about meeting the people in my department. They seemed great, and a few of them helped me unpack and settle into my new office (which is a nice space, by the way). Tomorrow I will get to meet the woman who I will be planning with since we are teaching the same courses. Tomorrow is also anxiety hurdle #3: running my first department meeting. I really need to have one of those never-let-them-see-you-sweat moments. After that, it's just garden variety stress until next Monday when the kids come, and I actually have to start teaching.

On the bright side, my boss is on the case about figuring out how to do SOMEthing about my terrible kitchen. And on a decidedly shallow note, I got the number today for a lady who comes to your house to do manicures and waxing for next to nothing. There is definitely something to be said for the bougie expatriate life.

Day off?

Today was the one day I had off this weekend, and I spent most of it working on stuff for school. I am reminded every five minutes of my friend Sarah B.'s reassurance when I took this job and was worried about having bitten off more than I can chew. She asked me, "Wouldn't you rather be challenged than not?" She had a point, and wow, am I being challenged. I still cannot believe that I am the chair of the social studies department. I have been working so hard with my boss Luisa to get a handle on that. I was at it all day today and am so nervous about meeting all 14 other people in the department tomorrow. Yikes! Then there's the whole teaching a course I've never taught before. . .

Besides working my butt off for school today, I tried to cook on my nightmare "stove." It was, well, a nightmare. The thing is a poorly functioning hot plate, and it took hours to make a dish that should have taken one, tops. It was actually really good, but this does not bode well.

OK, trying to get back on a school schedule is hard. The bus (!!!) comes at about 6:30 tomorrow a.m. The earplugs are definitely coming out tonight -- and soon.

Not wasting any time

Yesterday, on very short notice, I was informed that my boss wanted to see me at school, so I unexpectedly had my first day of work a day earlier than I had expected. I met with my boss, Luisa, and then did some work on my own; we didn't leave the campus til it was dark and I was completely overwhelmed.

Now, after the new teacher orientation day, I am only slightly less overwhelmed. I was definitely shell-shocked this morning when I had to participate in the meeting of the school's Academic Council -- made up of the principals, heads of schools, and heads of department. Fortunately, somebody later said to me (the only gringa in the room) that they could tell my Spanish was good because I looked like I knew what was going on in that meeting. Although it was true that I did follow the meeting just fine, I'm not sure how "with it" I look will always be the best indicator of whether or not I actually know what's going on!

As for the rest of my VERY FIRST DAY AT WORK? My colleagues seem really lovely. The campus is beautiful. The lunch was awesome. I have fifteen thousand things to get done in the next 24 hours so I am ready to meet my whole department on Monday. I am so tired I am not sure I'm going to be able to wash my face before I go to bed.

P.S. Don't go to your local Exito supermarket on a Saturday evening because it will be a mob scene of spectacular proportions. Or, go expecting a party! Tonight there was a band, a lady demonstrating the Wii, and free shots being offered by 1. a guy dressed as a bottle of Colombian rum, 2. busty young women in really tight pants and really small tank tops (offering some other kind of rum), and 3. a lady in a different tight outfit + silver knee-high boots (offering local aguardiente).

House calls & field trip for grown ups

So, as anyone who has seen (or, more correctly, heard me) in the last couple of weeks knows that I have had some kind of freakish death cough that would send me into uncontrollable spasms of coughing. I was fine otherwise, just really annoyed and, frankly, a little embarassed by this damn thing. Well, it has not gone away, and I was desperate to NOT have it when school starts. So yesterday I took advantage of my special travelers health insurance to see if I could see a doctor to check it out again. The lady was very helpful and told me that we could arrange something etc. etc. I thought my Spanish was failing me when she said she would call me back to confirm the time that the doctor would come to my house. Yes, people, yesterday I had a house call from Dr. Jorge Ortíz. I learned some new Spanish medical vocabulary words, and he did all the usual doctor check-up stuff -- just in my living room. It was pretty crazy.

Today Catalina, logistics lady extraordinaire of Colegio Los Nogales, took me and the other new foreign teachers to see the salt cathedral at Zipaquirá. It's a maze of tunnels blasted out of a giant salt mine and fashioned into a church. You make your way in through the stations of the cross, before ending up at the "dome" (a chamber with a big curved ceiling), the narthex, and the sanctuary where the altar is. It's a little bit eerie but cool. You shake off the eerie-ness pretty quickly at the end though, when you watch a 15-minute 3D movie about the history of salt in Colombia and of the cathedral. The narrator? A robot named NaCl, of course. Technical difficulties prohibit me from sharing this Kodak moment with you, but stay tuned for it as well as pictures of me licking the walls of salt. I know that's kind of gross, but we all cracked ourselves up doing it.

It was really great to meet the other new teachers, to at least know that there will be a few familiar faces when we hit the all-staff orientation next week. Speaking of the orientation, my lazy (or a little hectic) days of settling in are over. I didn't think I had to work until Saturday, but the principal wants me to come in for the whole day tomorrow. So I guess it officially begins!

The orientation continues

Just briefly (since I realized that yesterday's post was kind of epic), there are a few more things that I am seeing and getting used to. One thing that I LOVE is the fact that Guillermo the security guard calls me "profe" or "profesora." It's even better than my usual name in Latin America, which, as soon as I meet someone becomes Sarita.

Big accomplishment of the day yesterday: navigating Colombian bureaucracy all myself. That included writing a letter to the Dept. of Taxes & Customs (in an attempt to get my boxes released) and rushing to a notary public to get copies of my passport authenticated. Fingers crossed that the documents will convince customs to liberate my stuff.

Finally, something I am struggling to get used to: boiling water at 8500 feet on a hot plate takes about 30 or 40 minutes -- no exaggeration. For a girl who loves her pasta, this is going to be tough.

Tomorrow I head off on a field trip with the other new teachers to Zipaquira Salt Cathedral -- a church carved completely out of salt. Photos to follow.

First impressions

[This was actually written on my second day here, but it is only being published today because the power in the internet cafe went out yesterday].

Whenever I arrive some place new, I am always kind of overwhelmed as I take in all the things that are different/random/cool/weird about it. Yesterday in Bogotá was no exception.

First of all, there's my apartment & the building. It's in a neighborhood called La Carolina. There's a 24-hour security guard station out at the front gate, which is always locked. I have seen that before but hadn't really expected it. Then again, I live in what I think is a relatively swanky neighborhood. Its proximity to a giant American-style mall (both convenient and dismaying) is a dead giveaway. The apartment itself is tiny but really nice by any measure. The kitchen is microscopic, which I know will take me some getting used to, devoted cook that I am. I think of it as my Barbie-sized kitchen. It's just one of the many quirks that I will get used to. The same goes for the fact that it is inexplicably loud outside my apartment at night. I have no idea what the hell is going on in this otherwise really quiet neighborhood.

So then there are some of the different, kind of wacky goings on around me. To get into the mall I had to get my purse swiped by a metal detector wand. Also, I learned yesterday that a supermarket in an upscale Bogotá neighborhood is a total free for all. After about 15 minuted there I figured out that you have to go into outdoor street market mode to get where you need to go. That includes elbowing old ladies out of your way. Another interesting thing about the supermarket(where, by the way, you can buy hard liquor, cigarettes, tamales in the deli section, and Campbell's canned soup for about $7) is that there are people promoting different products all over the place. For example, there were two ladies in green jumpsuits hawking different yogurt brand in the dairy aisle. There was also a guy with a flat-screen TV mounted on his back pitching some other thing; I believe it was light bulbs.

Another cool and extremely convenient thing here (which helped me out majorly yesterday) is that you can go to a little phone stand, use a cell phone, and pay by the minute. How genius is that where not everyone has a cell phone?? Pretty clever, I think.

So that's the news from here. Tonight I will sit vigil in my apartment and pray to the heavens that my FedEx packages of half my earthly possessions arrive. You'll hear about it if they don't. I don't imagine there will be a whole lot else to tell this week. It's going to be a lot of me prepping for school and a couple of outings with the other new foreign teachers.

Counting down

The up-side of stress-induced insomnia? It makes for extra time to fire up the blog you've just told the entire universe about.

This will be brief, because otherwise it will be a long and boring venting session about how difficult it is to wrap up your life in one city in preparation for an international move. One particular low-light in that department that's maybe worth mentioning: yesterday I went to FedEx to get some of the forms I need to ship some of my stuff to Colombia. I explained to the guy at the counter that I had some questions about the customs form, and he said I had to be really careful shipping to South America because those countries are really strict about what comes in. (He also said, "And you know why," which made me want to point out to him that they are a LOT more worried about the "stuff" (wink-wink, nudge-nudge) that goes out, but whatever). He asked to what specific country I was shipping, and I told him Colombia. At which point he just laughed in my face. Seriously. Thanks, dude. It's not like I wasn't already totally freaking out about having a few of my possessions make it to the place I am going to be living for two years. Anyway, he pulled himself together and proceeded to be moderately helpful. I tried to make sense of the insane forms he gave me. Then I met some friends for dinner and had a stiff gin & tonic. That helped a little.