What happens in Cartagena...

If you've never heard of Cartagena, Colombia you have now, thanks to the Secret Service scandal.  Just the other day, I found myself still reading about the debacle in the news.  The latest morsel of media buzz made reference to an indirect excuse that the Secret Service agents' behavior was part of the "culture" here. Scoff-worthy, right?  


The obvious answer is yes, yet... whoever used this weak defense does have a bit of point.  The Secret Service agents did nothing that multitudes of gringos aren't doing here everyday.  ("Gringo," by the way, is a term used to refer to anyone who is "white" and is not an offensive term here.) Clearly though, the behavior expectations for US Government representatives are a bit higher, or one would think.  However, prostitution is rampant and legal here.  Case in point, several of my male gringo acquaintances report that when riding solo in a cab, the driver nearly always offers to help with arranging for a prostitute, and when I'm strolling the streets with gringo male friends at night, the offers they receive are plentiful.  The point is you don't have to look very hard for a prostitute if that's what you've come to Colombia for.


Also, as I've reported in other blog entries, the Colombian coast is a highly sexually-charged culture.  Even police officers have whistled at me as I walk with head-down and eyes averted through the city during daylight hours.  And stories like this could go on for pages and pages.  The male volunteers are actually a bit exhausted listening to all of the lady volunteers rant their unbelievable stories of unwanted attention.  It is slowly though becoming just a fact of life for me now.  As my girl Lola Cash says, "It is so hard being sexy." 


Lastly, Colombian women are BEAUTIFUL, both naturally and surgically.  They dress to the nines-- I really don't know what that means, but many dress in terribly high heels, nine inches maybe, tight jeans, with very flashy and very revealing tops.  It is hot, after all, and even I find myself loathe to wear anything with a sleeve.  Weather.com now reports that the "feels like" temperature is at 106, and we are just entering the hot season... and with air conditioners being rare if not non-existent, it makes sense to wear as little as possible.  


Yet with all the culture one can muster as an excuse, it is still a terrible embarrassment to also be here representing the US of A with associates like the Secret Service.  What I think the worst of all of this ignominy though is the one agent who refused to pay his prostitute the agreed upon price.  It reeks of colonialist history with the "white man," or in this case the more powerful government, coming to the Americas and taking what they want without the duty of earning or paying for the riches, pleasures of a less powerful people.  It is really quite tragic actually that Americans, or norteamericanos, still behave in this superior and shameless way.  


To the Colombians reading my blog, please know that many Americans are terribly ashamed by the behavior of the Secret Service.  It is my hope that I can, along with the other Peace Corps volunteers here, show Colombians a different type of gringo.  As Representative Tom Petri of Wisconsin says of the 1961 founding of the Peace Corps: 


"The Peace Corps put another side of America forward, not one motivated by the realpolitik of the Cold War, but one motivated by the genuine and optimistic belief that the world can be improved through service and understanding and that our nation, blessed by prosperity and strength, has an obligation to help uplift those outside our borders."

And may it be so.  God bless Colombia.


  

10 Reasons I Love Colombian Men!

Well, the Colombianos are getting quite a bad wrap among the volunteers here.  Since training, we have been warned by our Language and Cultural Facilitators (LCF's), host moms, and really by any female in the country we came across concerning the men- they are mujeriegos, bandidos, perros... downright dogs.  And corresponding to my observations, it doesn't seem like the men here are really expected to remain faithful to their wives.  Nearly every married woman I've talked with at length has spoken of what she has had to "put up with" from her husband.  Message understood and note taken.  Colombian men don't wear wedding rings, and if they did, that still certainly wouldn't stop them from whistling at pretty girls on the street.  However, there's always a bright side, and that's what this blog is all about.  In truth, I am finding the men here refreshingly different from the dating scene back home.  Here's 10 reasons why I don't think Colombian men are all that bad:


1. They will call you... on the phone.  Sometimes they will even call in the morning to see how you've "amaneciste"ed, or how it dawned upon you, how you arose from your bed (if you're even out of it yet).  No texting charades here; when they want a date with you, they call you and extend a formal invitation- "Amanda, I invite you..."


2. They pay for everything.  If you accept one of these invitations, it is never even a question that you might pay for your half.  According to our LCFs, you can even bring your friends and family members and they will buy their lunch, dinner, drinks, too.  And on this volunteer's budget, I am not protesting too much.


3.  Their egos don't get in the way of them approaching you.  Back home, you may sit in a bar for hours while a man stares you down from across the room without ever initiating a conversation.  But here, if they are interested- they go for it.  Machismo isn't all bad.  Men back home, at times, need to strap 'em on and man up.  If you like a lady, talk to her!


4. They throw excellent piropos, or pick up lines.  Echando piropos (throwing flirtatious compliments) or endulzandola (sweetening her) are the things you get in the street, at the bar, in the grocery store, or at even at school.  Back home when the dudes finally approach you, it's normally an awkward "Uh..... er... so what's up?"  But here, you get to listen to lines like: eres una poema, un bello poema (you are a poem, a beautiful poem), eres el veneno y la cura (you are the poison and the cure), or eclipsas el mar... (you eclipse the sea), or something like that.  Hola my light, my sky, my queen, my heart, mi amor.  Muuuch better, men.  And thank you. ;)


5. They can dance.  Like you wouldn't believe.


6. Their passion.  Duh.


7. They're close to their moms.  Sometimes they're a bit too close, for instance grown men still sleep in bed with their moms if necessary, but the point is they love their moms, and that's always a good sign.


8. Some of them are very, very good-looking in a way only a Latino can be good-looking: dark hair, dark eyes, dark skin, oh my!


9. They will walk you home.  In the dark hours, Colombian men will never let you walk home alone.  They will either put you in a taxi- that they pay for- or walk you home for your protection; they are caballeros, knights, in the purest sense.  I'm recently very grateful for my student Hernando who walks me to my door after every English class offered to the community.  He is a boxer and a weight lifter, and I feel very safe with him.


10.  They write you poems.  As an English teacher and logophile, this is the way to my heart. ¡Ay!


Now to find a single one...


Speaking of my Community English class, it's finally started, and at a student's request we have begun with the alphabet.  Teaching the alphabet gives me a strangely good feeling.  I feel like Squanto or something.  Here we are breaking it down--

Here's Mendoza, my favorite, most smiliest security guard who sneaks into my class-

And lastly, I can't pass up the chance to share with you just one photo from my school's "Women's Day" presentation.  Women's Day is a big day for Colombianas-  they are serenaded by the vallenato accordion, given cake and flowers throughout the day, and are presented with inspirational PowerPoints such as this-

We watched a series of photos like these in the school's teacher lounge with the faculty and choice students while eating more cake and drinking sparkling cider.  Suffice it to say that I will be making next year's "Women's Day" PowerPoint, and it will be drastically different.


22 months to go!

Making plans in Latin America

"...[He] was truly sorry and promised there would be no more dogs killed in the streets.  The promise calmed the General, not because he believed it would be kept, but because the good intentions of his aide-de-camp were a consolation to him" (García Márquez's The General in His Labyrinth).

The General in this passage is Simon Bolivar who is recognized as the Great Liberator of [South] America, and he knows more about Colombian culture than I do.  He understands that when someone tells you something you want to hear, yet it is not true, it is a gesture of goodwill and not a lie meant as flippant or  blatant disrespect.  He understands that when someone honors your desires enough to tell you what you want to hear, they are caring for you.  For me, reading Colombian literature while experiencing Colombian culture has been a bit like looking at the answers in the back of a textbook.  

Last week I got stood up not once, but twice-- by the same person.  I was actually "stood up" a lot more than two times, just by different people.  Anyhow, when I arrived at my new school a few weeks ago, I was on a mission to find a Spanish teacher.  And as it turns out, there are several Spanish teachers, or Castellano teachers as they refer to them here, at my school.  One very nice Castellano teacher who spoke decent English said he would be happy to help me learn Spanish.  Since the Peace Corps is giving us money to continue Spanish lessons at our site, I told him I would pay him because after arriving in the barrio where I was without 21 other Americans, I was serious about finding a Spanish teacher as soon as possible.  He said that we were friends, and he was at my orden, here to help me.  So after I asked the typical gringa questions of what day and what time, we had an appointment.  

Well, I showed up...  and he didn't.  After a span of time, another teacher saw me waiting and called my new Spanish teacher who explained that today was his plata pica.  Here in Colombia, there are certain days you are not allowed to drive your car or motorcycle depending on the last digit of your license plate number.  It applies to everyone, and you will get ticketed if you are caught driving on your public transportation day.  Anyhow, my response, delivered lightheartedly but directly, to the other teacher was, "His license plate number didn't change since yesterday and neither did the law, so why did he tell me would come?"  Response: "Welcome to Colombia!!!"

Now, I knew to expect this coming here.  Still, that doesn't mitigate the frustration I feel when I have made the effort to take yet another startlingly cold shower, put on hot clothes, and take a hot trek by foot or bus to keep an appointment.  I teased the teacher a little the next day but did not ask him to meet again because I thought surely he didn't really want to give me lessons, but in a couple of days, he offered again.  I gave him a sideways glance and asked if he was sure.  Then I proceeded to the "When?" and "What time?" questions.  I did notice that his eyes moved around a lot, but I didn't know if it was because I was just asking confusing gringa questions.  I gave him my number and asked him to call me if he wasn't going to make it.  The next morning, I sent him a text that I was on my way.  To spare the time it takes to read an already predictable story, he didn't show up.  The excuse this time was something about a medical appointment, but I didn't find out until after I had waited 30-45 minutes in the school courtyard, and I had showed up 20-30 minutes late, trying to be Colombian. I was more than just a little perturbed this time.

I've conducted problem-solving interviews since then, and this is what the Colombians advise:

1) Call, don't text, someone 30 minutes before the appointed time and see what they say.  If they are on their way, leave in about an hour.  If they are doing something, give it another 2-3 hours and call again.

2) Look at their eyes when making an appointment.  If they are shifty, like I had noticed before, it's not because they are confused, it's because they don't really mean it.

3) And as GGM narrates above, take it as a kind gesture when someone tells you they'll give you lessons, or invite you to visit, or take you to the nearest island to visit their family.  They really do wish it... or they think you do, and they like you, so therefore they are saying it.  Smile.

I'm waiting for the gift of Colombian discernment.

Other updates:

I have a new host family, and I am cooking for myself.  It's been only one week, and I feel different already being able to control what I eat.

 Here I've some corn arepas with portobello mushrooms and squash sautéed in olive oil- oh god, olive oil is good- drizzled with some suero, or sour cream, and some queso campesino.  I also made a side of real guacamole a la Mexicano with lots of  jalepeños.  The Colombians aren't into spicy food, and they are amazed at the amounts of peppers and hot sauce I pour over my food.  They are equally amazed that I'm making meals without meat.  Each day and at each meal, they confirm that I'm really cooking without meat.  I think they feel sorry for me, but I am really, really happy with this food.

Carnaval is next weekend, and my host mom from Barranquilla is calling me everyday to confirm that I'm coming.  She's making the arrangements, which we repeat each time; I just have to get in the taxi.  Barranquilla's carnaval is the world's second largest, and people from all over the world are coming to celebrate something like Mardi Gras meets futbol stadium furor.  There will be dancing, and there will be alcohol- both flowing into the streets.  I'm hoping to manifest a costume or fun mask before next weekend.  Here's my host mom's marimonda mask.  Its origins are making fun of Arab immigrants, and the Colombians think it is hilarious.

And lastly, I am slowly making my way into Cartagena's nightlife.  Cartagena is a fun, quirky, and youthful crossing of bohemes from all over Latin America and Europe.  Last night, I found this club with some other volunteers.  The band is from Holland, and they are playing something between the polka and the Colombian cumbia.  

Fun times.  I'm still in the observation phase at my site, so I don't have anything to report work-related.  I'll begin my co-teaching with other English teachers in a couple of weeks along with offering community English classes, English classes for teachers of all subjects, and an English club for the advanced students.  Lots of work coming up, and I'm looking forward to it.  

Carnaval post coming soon!

Love you all.