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.