Life is not a chick flick

The street artist I’d passed just a few minutes before caught up to me a block later.  “What do I have to do for you to let me draw your portrait?” he asked.  He invited me out for a drink.  I declined.  “Do you like ice cream?” he asked.  I countered with a question of my own, “Why are you asking me out?”  “I’m in love with you!” he declared, “You’re the princess of my life”.

But, unfortunately, life is not a chick flick.  He was not young and devastatingly handsome.   I didn’t find myself  swept away in some romantic fairy tale. Instead, I laughed, and walked away.  

San Gil, a photo journal: Friday April 6

7:00 am
Another beautiful morning, and I wander off in search of breakfast.  I'm disappointed (and astonished) that the first bakery I peak into doesn't have hot chocolate.  By the time I make it to the bakery by the river, I realize I don't really have time to sit down and order breakfast.  I get a buñuelo and a cold oatmeal drink to go and head back to the hotel.

8:30 am
We head over to the office and wait for our ride.  We drive along the river again until we reach a small town where La Cueva del Indio (The Indian's cave) awaits us.  We suit up- hard hats with headlamps and life jackets- and then walk across town to the cave's entrance.  Our guide tells us a little bit about it's history on the way.  Supposedly back in the 1600 when the Spanish Conquistadors were taking over the region, the local Indian tribe hid in the cave to escape slavery.  The Spanish eventually found them there though.

It's a gorgeous sunny morning and I dash down the pathway to the caves entrance.  "slow down!" the guide admonishes me.  I laugh to the girls, in English, "some people like long walks on the beach.  I like haphazardly running downhill in the woods.  Preferably barefoot."

We duck into the cave (which, the guide tells us, is more accurately a cavern- caves have only one entrance, caverns have multiple entrances.)  It's dark and smells bad.  Lots of bats live here he informs us.

After navigating the first passageway easily- it's wide here and the ceilings aren't low- we come to a large open area.  The guide instructs us to sit down and turn out our head lamps.  As soon as we sit, we here the wings around us.  Bats swoop low.  Some people scream.  It's a bit creepy, but I'm not scared; I went to too many state park service campfire talks growing up and read too many magic school bus books not to know that bats are good, mostly.  They eat insects.  They know where we are and aren't likely to fly into us by accident, and have no desire to fly into us on purpose.  Finally, after our eyes have accustomed to the dark, the guide turns on his flashlight and shines it towards the roof of cave- there are hundreds of bats clinging to the walls.  He whistles and some of them take off flying.

We head on to another section of the cave where there's an underground river.  They have to close the cave when the weather is very wet or it's impassable.  We wade through water up to our hips.  We're cold and muddy.  We pass an area where stalactites and stalagmites have joined, forming columns.

Farther on we reach a drop off, the water flows below us.  "Now it's time to jump!" instructs our guide. We jump in, obediently, braced for the cold water.  Then, he walks around to the other side, and we realize there was a way around jumping in.  We should have figured that out when just moments later he has us army crawl through a tunnel, and then takes a different much wider passage to catch up to us.

The end of the cave tour is the scariest.  The part of the path we are following ends at a 5 meter cliff.  The river runs below us.  There's a ladder down to the river, but the 8 or 10 year old boys we're with jump into the water.  Then their parents do.  Then Rae Ann and Ingrid do.  It's just Jen and I left.  I can't be outdone by a 10 year old, so I count to 3, and then freeze.  The water looks so far away.  I try it again.  Finally, I jump.  It takes forever to hit the water, and when I do, despite my life jacket, I sink beneath the surface.  My back almost touches the bottom before my life jacket carries me back to the top.

We swim and wade, following the river back up to the light of day.  We've covered about a kilometer and a half underground, down hill almost the whole way, and we have to climb back uphill through the woods, our wet, muddy clothes somewhat drying in the sun.

12:30 pm
Back in San Gil we're hungry and ready for lunch.  It's Good Friday and all inter-city public transportation is closed for the day, so we decide to just relax and enjoy the city.

After a mediocre lunch, we each go our separate ways.  I walk downtown in search of the perfect photo.   I love the colonial architecture of the city.  

One of the things I love the most are the balconies.  In my mind, I design my dream house.  It will be painted beautiful bold pastels, and have a balcony.

Children are playing in the fountain on this warm, sunny day and chasing pigeons in the park.  There's a painting exhibition with local artists painting outside in the park. I pause to admire their work, wishing I were brave enough to ask to photograph them painting up close, but I don't. 

I run into Rae Ann in the park and we head down to the river together.  She decides to buy the specialty in this department of Colombia- hormigas culonas- a large deep fried ant.  We buy the little packet, do some souvenir window shopping, meet up with the other girls, and then head back to the hotel to try our new "treat"

5:30 pm
We have to work up the nerve to actually eat the ants.  One by one, taking pictures as we go, we pop the ants in our mouths.  They're not as bad as you'd think a giant fried ant might be.  They're crunchy and salty, and not so bad at first, but the oily aftertaste makes me want to wash it down with lots of water.

7:00 pm
We head off downtown to eat some street food.  We buy corn on the cob and shish-kebabs. It starts to drizzle but we decide we need some ice cream.  Once again, our adventures have tired us out and we all go to bed before it's too late.

(not so) Ordinary chaos

As they always seem to whenever I walk in the door, a million things greeted me at once.  When I finally managed to slip upstairs to print out tests for Julian, it seemed like things were going smoothly- the computer was on, the printer connected, pages even started to print.  I breathed a sigh of relief, went to open the last document and tell it to print when there was a sudden pop and hiss sound.  The computer went dead.  The printer stopped working.  And then, I looked down.  The cord connecting the surge protector to the outlet was on fire.  Sparks were spitting everywhere.  I looked at it, frozen in indecision.  The flame looked too large to just stomp out, besides, stomping on a sparking electrical cord didn't seem like the brightest decision.  I looked around- I think you're supposed to smother electrical fires, right? I thought to myself.  There was nothing around that seemed too helpful- newspapers, Fabian's sweatshirt (ok, as a last resort, but the fire wasn't spreading yet).  I looked anxiously at the wood floor.  I better figure out something, and soon.  I ran downstairs and burst into a classroom, "You're not supposed to put out an electrical fire with water, right?" I asked breathlessly.  Ana Yivi and Julian looked up, concerned.  "There's a fire upstairs!  Will you help Julian?" I asked.  "Use the yellow fire extinguisher" suggested Ana Yivi.  I dashed downstairs, grabbed the fire extinguisher, and headed back upstairs.  It must have almost burnt itself out in the meantime, because Julian told me he blew it out.  It was definitely bigger than blowing out size when I ran downstairs.

**********

The internet had been on again off again, so we called the internet provider.  They came and fiddled around, supposedly "fixed" things, but I soon realized that while the wireless network was working better, the internet was now completely non-functioning on my office computer.  It was Wednesday, Juan, who helps with all our tech problems, was already on the way out the door.  He only comes once a week.  The next Wednesday rolled around.  Juan fiddled with my computer between classes.  He got the internet back up and running, and then decided to upgrade my CPU, switching it for a better one in the computer room.  He finished up as I was leaving for the day.  Thursday, my computer wouldn't turn on.  It still won't start a week later, and he isn't able to come tomorrow.  No computer, no internet... it's hard to get my work done when I can't even access my documents.

**********

I've been trying to get one of my student's parents to come in for weeks.  She never came back after she enrolled him to finish filling out paperwork, and we've been having disciplinary issues, so we really needed to meet.  I finally did what I hate to do- set an ultimatum: Come to school on Tuesday or your son will not be able to come to school on Wednesday.  Her appointment at 10 came and went and she never showed up.  I was busy and lost track of time, and then had to sub a class.  I called when the class was over.  No answer.  Finally, sometime after lunch, she called me back.  "You had an appointment at the school", I reminded her.  "I'm just wondering what happened".  "Oh, I'm on my way," she told me.  Two hours passed and she still hadn't shown up.  I rang the bell to dismiss students and tried calling her one last time.  "I'll be right there!" She told me.  "You need to be here in 10 minutes, or I may have already left", I told her.  Finally, 5 hours after her scheduled appointment, she appeared.  At least we got to talk, and I can let her son come to school tomorrow.  

**********

"Katrina's on the phone for you, Annie", Lilia told me.  She was calling to let me know that the Former Colombian Interior Minister was targeted in a car bomb attack and that I should let the staff know that they should take extra precautions and make sure they told someone where they were going and when they expected to be back.  Around the same time Ana Yivi came in to let me know pretty much the same thing.  I called the school where our continuing ed students go and asked them to please tell the children to take a bus on the septima, and not the transmilenio, since the car bomb had gone off on the Caracas, the same route the transmilenio takes.  When everyone was together for lunch, I let all the staff know they should take extra precautions and encouraged the children to go straight home after school and stay away from the Caracas.

**********

These past few weeks have been a bit crazier than usual, though there's always something going on. Maybe it does help to explain why I've been overwhelmed and stressed lately though.  Fires, bombings,   not being able to get my work done when I am at work.  Hmm, I guess that might explain it. 

Field trip!

Mist over the mountains

Last Tuesday was a holiday, so we decided to take advantage of a free day to take some of our older continuing education students on a field trip.  The church of Monserrate is one of the most popular tourist destinations in Bogotá.  It's on the mountain overlooking the city and has amazing views. The walking path up to it was closed shortly before I first arrived in Bogotá, and just reopened the end of last year, and I've been wanting to go since then.

The morning didn't look to promising- grey clouds covered the sky as it gently drizzled outside. We met the kids outside the jungle around 8am and walked through the city towards downtown.  I noticed as we talked our breath coming out in puffs of white.  I wasn't sure that  a cold, grey, drizzly day was the best for this, but we were committed now.  Jessica bought some bread at the local bakery to share with the kids since not all of them had eaten, and we started off.

The girls taking a break at the top

We hadn't walked very far when we passed our first group of riot control police.  The girls were unconcerned, "oh, yeah, there's a march today", they mentioned.  Jessica and I looked at each other, slightly more concerned.  "It's labor day, it's a workers march" I said.  "I don't think it should be violent."  As we approached the Septima (the main street leading through down town) I became a bit more worried.  Riot police lined both sides of the street, with a sprinkling of regular police thrown in for good measure.  "Who's idea was it anyway to take a bunch of kids on a field trip through a protest march?" I muttered, "oh, right, it was my idea. . . " Jessica went over to ask what time the march was coming through and how long it would last.  They weren't sure, but it wasn't expected to get violent.  As we crossed the street we realized we were just in time- we could just see the beginning wave of marchers headed towards us and hear them chanting.

The church of Monserrate

ferns and moss growing along the way

We left the march behind and headed to the foot of the mountains and the entrance to the pathway.  Our beginning altitude was somewhere around 8,832 feet above sea level.  (That's roughly 3, 600 feet higher than Denver, CO).  The path up to Monserrate is steep as you climb over 1,500 feet in altitude over the course of roughly a mile and a half.  The mixture of gorgeous views of the city with beautiful Andean mountain forest makes it well worth the burning lungs.  Half of the group took off running, but I stayed behind with the kids who wanted to take it slow.  We stopped for pictures, just to catch our breath, and to buy freshly sliced pineapple and bananas at a stand at the half way point.  It was still drizzling off and on, but walking had warmed us all up and my sweatshirt was off.  I was actually feeling glad it wasn't sunny.  The sun at this altitude and latitude is strong, making it feel hotter than the air temperature is.

View of the city on a grey day

Jessica and I

Mass was in session when we arrived, so we didn't go inside the church.  We sat outside and bought almojabanas and ripe roasted plantain with cheese and bocadillo (a guava based sweet)  to share with the kids.  It got cold sitting still in the shade of the church, so we got up to explore.  There are a lot of souvenir shops, an outdoor "stations of the cross", and a path to the view of the mountainsides behind the church.

The souvenir shops

We finally decided it was time to head back down, and started off running down the mountain.  Stone steps that are wet from rain are not easy to navigate, so running didn't last long, at least not for most of us.  When we got to the
bottom, hot and tired, with the sun finally peeking out from the clouds a bit, Edwin bought us all ice pops from a street vendor.

That's when I wished we could take a bus back, because we still had almost 2 miles to walk across town to get back to where we started.  We finally made it, saying goodbye to kids along the way as they passed their homes.  Six and a half miles of walking had tired me out, so I decided lunch and a nap were a good way to spend the rest of my holiday.

San Gil, a photo journal: Thursday April 5

Thursday, 6:30 am

I can almost never sleep in, and in hot weather, the early morning is one of my favorite times of day.  I slip quietly out of bed and change.  We don't have to be ready for rafting until 9.  I grab my Bible, leftover bread and an apple that I didn't eat on the bus and slip out the door without waking up the others.  

I head down to the river and walk along the "malecon", a path that borders the river.  It's quiet; the town still hasn't come completely awake.  The path eventually ends in a little park.  I sit, admiring the beauty, enjoying the warmth.  I read the synoptic gospel accounts of Holy Thursday- the last supper, Jesus' betrayal and arrest.  

 When I'm finished reading and finishing my breakfast, I meander back to the hostel.  The flowers are gorgeous.  There's one particular hibiscus, a beautiful orange shade that isn't as customary as the deep pinks and yellows I'm used to.  I walk off the path into the overgrown grass to try and get a photo of it.  As I'm walking back out I feel a sharp pain in my foot.  I shake it, quickly knocking off whatever insect bit me.  It was probably an ant, I think.  I don't see anything, but my foot hurts the whole way back to the hotel.  It was worth it though, I got a beautiful picture.

Thursday, 8:45 am

We're all about ready when my phone rings.  Grace, the lady who is arranging all our tours, is calling to let me know that the van should be there to pick us up any minute and to be ready since there's no parking.  We run downstairs, I'm halfway down when I remember I didn't put sunscreen on and run back upstairs for my sunscreen.  As soon as we're downstairs, the van pulls up and we pile in, waiting a couple of minutes for another family from the hotel who are doing the same trip.  

We stop quickly at the office to store our stuff, get our wrist bands that entitle us to emergency insurance, and then head off with a few more groups 9 kilometers up river.

Thursday, 10 am

After a quick instructional session (which I translate for Jen, who doesn't speak Spanish), we pose for pictures before setting off.  

The river is gorgeous.  There are some calm sections where we drift, admiring the Spanish moss hanging from the trees.  Then, there are the turbulent rapids where are guide shouts swift instructions to us.  Our goal is to be the loudest, most fun group.  Fortunately for us, the Colombian couple on the raft with us has similar goals in mind.  We shout, laugh, and splash the other boats when we get close enough.

Thursday, 11 am

There's a calm stretch of water and our guide tells us we can get out if we want.  We jump into the water and float downstream.  The water is cold and the current is fast.  "Any piranhas?" I ask, playfully.  I'm not too concerned either way- when I was in Ecuador we went swimming in a river after fishing for piranhas (and catching some).  Apparently they're bottom feeders and don't swim to the top unless attracted by blood.  "No" answers our guide, "the crocodiles ate them all."  I burst out laughing. I shout the "news" onto the others in the group, who all continue as unconcerned as I down the river.

Thursday, 12 pm

We arrive back at the office and arrange for another hotel pickup at 1:00 to go paragliding.  There's just enough time for a quick lunch before we go.  We head to the restaurant next door where set lunch plates are $3.50.  We start off by soup, followed by rice, salad, fried sweet plantain slices, french fries, and for me, fried mojarra (which google translate claims is: crappie, bluegill, bream, or tilapia.  I don't really know which it is, all I know is it is typically served fried whole here in Colombia and I love it)

Thursday, 1:30 pm.

We arrive at the paragliding place, along with what seems like half of San Gil.  We sign in, write down our weight in kilos, and wait.  And wait.  And wait.  In the first 45 minutes we're here, only 2 people go up.  The wind has dropped down and they're waiting for better weather before taking people up.  Eventually they bring out what looks like a go-cart with an engine and parachute.  They start it up and take off.  It's pretty awesome to watch.

Thursday, 2:45 pm

They're starting to take people up again.  We notice some people who got there after us are going up before us.  Ingrid goes to find out why.  Apparently they're taking up the lightest people first since the wind still isn't strong.  We point out that I'm pretty light, and they say they'll take me up next.

I'm afraid taking off will be scary, but it isn't.  Almost as soon as I'm strapped in we're off the ground.  The wind fills the parachute and lifts it before we even reach the edge of the hill.  Soon we're drifting above the mountain side, trees and farmers' fields spread out below us.  It's amazing.

Alex, who's been doing this for 15 years, is piloting the parachute.  His brother and cousin also work here.  I figure if he's been doing this for 15 years, it mustn't be that dangerous.

 The wind has picked up and there are over a dozen people out paragliding at once.  It's a gorgeous sight.

 I'm loving the wind in my face, the gliding sensation, and the view.

 All too soon, it's time to land again.  I take a quick last picture as we're headed down.

 Hours pass before we all go up.  I spend some time photographing the flowers in the beautiful gardens about the place.  It's cold up here since we're higher in altitude than San Gil and the wind is strong.  I sit in front of the snack bar which is a little sheltered from the wind and hope we can head back to warmth and dinner soon.

Thursday, 6:30 pm
It takes awhile, but we're finally loaded into a van (different than we came in. Apparently our driver went to rescue someone with a flat tire) and headed back to San Gil.  The driver turns on the radio and we start a dance party where we're seated in the van.  He plays along, flashing the interior light.

Fortunately when we get back we warm up right away from the heat.  Not enough for me to order a cold drink though when we find a pizza place to eat.  I ask for my soda room temperature.  The place is unique- they sell pizza cones.  Shaped like an ice cream cone, but made of a thicker crustier dough, they're filled with cheese and, in my case, basil and tomato chucks.  They're pretty tasty.

After a day of activities, by the time we're done with dinner, we're pretty much ready to wander back to bed and collapse.

Dancing with the stars...

This story starts in 2003, on the San Francisco University campus in Quito, Ecuador. I was studying abroad and was enrolled in a Latin Dance class. Week after week, I looked at myself hopelessly in the full length mirror as my hips refused to move like my latin classmates seemed to be able to effortlessly. Coordinating feet, hips, and arms, all to the rhythm of the music was impossibly complicated for me.

Fast forward 9 years. Social dancing is a part of life here. And last night, the day I never dreamed would happen arrived.

I was at my friend Alex's house, making brownies in his kitchen, chatting with Adrian, a newly made friend from Mexico. "Do you dance salsa?" I asked. "no" he answered. "merengue?" I asked hopefully, wishing for a more positive response. Merengue is, after all, less complicated. He didn't dance merengue either. "Oh, you disappointed me." I told him, "I was just telling Edwin the other day how much I want to dance but we always have more girls than guys and I was hoping you could help us out".

The topic changed, I popped the brownies in the oven, and the song "Mi niña bonita" came on. Edwin pulled me over to the empty half of the kitchen to dance. "Julian, Camilo, Adrian!" I called out to the guys in the room, "ask the girls to dance!" Pretty soon, we had a kitchen full of dancing couples. As the song changed and we all changed partners, I found myself with Adrian. We danced merengue, then salsa. "Here's what you do" I said, demonstrating some basic steps. After we were more or less comfortable with them, I thought we should attempt a spin. I am decent at following when my partner knows what they're doing, but without a lead, I'm usually pretty lost. Much to my surprise and delight, I walked Adrian through the entire spin. "Let's try it again, faster this time!"

I think it's still obvious I don't have latin blood when I dance. I still lose the rhythm more than I'd like to admit. I'm not always sure if I'm dancing salsa, merengue, vallenato, or something else all together. But, I have now given a dancing lesson to a latino. And I'm just a little bit impressed with myself. :)

(not from last night, but if you want to see me show off my *amazing* dance skills, I'm towards the end of this 15 second clip)

San Gil, a photo-journal: Wednesday April 4

Wed. 4am

It's dark and cold when my alarm goes off, so early I'm disoriented. I drag myself out of bed, getting ready quickly, and by 4:30 all of us are waiting by the door, suitcases in hand, ready for the taxi to beep.

The city is quiet at this hour and there's barely any traffic. We get to the transport terminal quickly, it's not quite 5am. I buy 5 tickets to San Gil, leaving at 6am. The bus ride should take 6 hours.

6 am- waiting for our bus to leave and already burnt from Monday at the park.

Wed. 10:30 am

Our first sign that this trip might take a bit over 6 hours is when we end up in completely stopped traffic. Everyone is out of their cars milling around. We get off the bus to stretch and see what's going on. As far as we can see down the mountain, cars are stopped. There's road work below and they have one lane of the 2 lane road closed. Eventually, they stop traffic coming up the mountain and we race to get back on the bus as the traffic ahead of us starts moving. As Jen steps on the bus, we're already in motion before she even makes it back to her seat.

The stopped traffic went around the curve and down the hill

Wed. 12:00 pm

I'm drifting off to sleep when I hear a sudden startling bang. For a moment I'm startled thinking a shot was fired outside my house. Then I realize I'm on a bus and I look out the window in time to see something flying off across the road. We stop, pull over and pick up whatever the missing piece is. The driver and several helpful, or maybe just curious, passengers try to put it back together. Whatever they've done doesn't seem to be too successful since when we pull onto the road again there is a dangerous rattling sound and we're only traveling around 20 kilometers an hour. At this point we'll never get there, I think.

Our driver with the missing part

Wed. 1:00 pm

We rattle along for a few minutes until we pull to a stop again at the entrance to a little town, "Socorro", it's optimistically called, a word meaning help, aid, relief. We're stopped outside a mechanics, and pretty soon they're tinkering with the broken part and the wheels again. The bus becomes sweltering and we get off. We chat with the little girl who's sitting next to Rae Ann, "this is the best day of my life!" she tells me. "why?" I ask, thinking how I definitely wouldn't count it as the best day of my life. "I made American friends!" she answers, enthusiastically. I smile at her enthusiasm, glad that at least someone is enjoying the inconvenience.

The cathedral of Socorro in the distance

The bus driver wanders off, the mechanic disappears under the bus, and then reappears muttering something that doesn't sound hopeful. We're getting hotter by the minute, still in jeans and sneakers for the Bogotá cole, but it's HOT here. We walk across the street to a snack shop with the name written in English, "The Beer Store". We order cold sodas and sit on the pavement, wondering if we'll even make it to San Gil tonight.

Still waiting in Socorro

Wed. 2:30 pm

Finally, Ingrid has the brilliant idea to ask someone how far to San Gil. Turns out it's just a 1/2 hour away by bus. We flag down a taxi and, for $2.50, convince him to load the 5 of us and our suitcases in to take us to the bus terminal downtown. Once we're there we find a bus to San Gil and 5 minutes and $1.50 each later, we're headed off just as it begins to rain.

Wed. 4:00

After nearly 12 hours of traveling, and a bit of wandering through some (thankfully warm) drizzle, we finally arrive at our hostel. First order of business- changing into shorts and flip flops. We flop down on the beds, exhausted for a bit, as we plan our next move.

Wed. 6:00 pm

We head off downtown, looking for the plaza. It isn't difficult to find. I get a call on the way there from a tour guide they recommended at our hotel. She meets us in front of the cathedral to tell us our options. "How about rafting tomorrow at 9?" she asks, "they'll pick you up outside the hotel." It sounds good to us, so with plans to talk tomorrow about other adventures, we wander a bit more, looking for a good place to eat. We finally find what seems to be the most popular spot for female police officers in San Gil as there's a whole table of them when we sit down. The restaurant has seating in a courtyard with hammocks hung around the edges. We relax, enjoying the warmth after too many days in cold, rainy Bogotá. We can hear fireworks in the distance. Eventually our food comes and once we're done eating, we go back to the hotel, tired from a long day of travel. Exploring can wait until tomorrow.

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