Today my school finally got around to celebrating "Dia de los Niños"--Day of the Children. The schools in the area generally take advantage of every "holiday"to suspend classes and have a presentation or celebration for at least an hour--mine's actually pretty good about this, in that we don't lose whole days once a week to such things, as some other volunteers' do.
The official day was actually last week but since we had the air conditioning fire, we had to move our celebration to this week. Which meant that our primary children got to come to school sans uniform while an entertainer--which literally translates here to a "recreationist"--yelled things into the microphone and encouraged the excited small girls to scream. For approximately four hours straight
Keep in mind, these celebrations happen in the open area in my one-building school that is surrounded by classrooms. As in, the doors open up into the patio area.
Which meant that all other classes were useless because there was screaming and loud music drowning out every single teacher and student.
But it's a good thing they got all those screaming lessons. I hear it's a good skill to have around here, for the times when there are presentations and loud music drowning you out when you try and have class.
Monday, April 30, 2012
Monday, April 23, 2012
English: setting the school on fire!
...Actually.
I arrived at school today to hear/see that the English class prior to the one I work in experienced a giant electrical fire. The air conditioner exploded and there were flames and smoke, I was told, that filled the school and left out the top windows. I have my doubts about the flames being that high but there were definitely people treated for smoke inhalation. And there is smoke damage throughout the school.
One ironic thing, to me, is that I didn't even know the air conditioner in that classroom even turned on! It is the hottest room in the school, to the point that leaving it for fresh, albeit sultry, Barranquillan air literally feels like entering air conditioning...(outdoor temps currently hover in the lower 90's, with humidity wayyy above 50 percent...)
but that's beside the point!
Fortunately no one was hurt, but it was a sobering event in that there are no fire escape plans, and only one narrow, awkwardly constructed staircase from which hundreds of girls have to exit in the case of emergencies.
We have no class tomorrow because major cleanup is needed...and in order to celebrate survival a mass will be held after our Wed-Thurs standardized testing takes place.
There goes classes for the week?
I arrived at school today to hear/see that the English class prior to the one I work in experienced a giant electrical fire. The air conditioner exploded and there were flames and smoke, I was told, that filled the school and left out the top windows. I have my doubts about the flames being that high but there were definitely people treated for smoke inhalation. And there is smoke damage throughout the school.
One ironic thing, to me, is that I didn't even know the air conditioner in that classroom even turned on! It is the hottest room in the school, to the point that leaving it for fresh, albeit sultry, Barranquillan air literally feels like entering air conditioning...(outdoor temps currently hover in the lower 90's, with humidity wayyy above 50 percent...)
but that's beside the point!
Fortunately no one was hurt, but it was a sobering event in that there are no fire escape plans, and only one narrow, awkwardly constructed staircase from which hundreds of girls have to exit in the case of emergencies.
We have no class tomorrow because major cleanup is needed...and in order to celebrate survival a mass will be held after our Wed-Thurs standardized testing takes place.
There goes classes for the week?
Thursday, April 19, 2012
That Rollercoaster Thing
It is not uncommon, here, to have a rollercoaster of a day. And by not uncommon, I really mean 90 percent of our days here. And no, I don't mean a week. Or a month. Or a few day stretch. We're talking wake-up to sleep as our general timeframe.
Many times, I post snippets of what I do. Usually it's an achievement, or something random. Or exciting.
But that isn't, I don't think, entirely indicative of the big picture. And since today was nothing short of a 6 Flags sort of terror, here's example A of what kind of day is a typical one here:
4:45. Wake up. Tiptoe through my host family's bedrooms to get to the bathroom and do necessary, albeit contextually public things.
5:00: Refuse fried food for the umpteenth time
5:35: Try to leave house. Don't have a set of keys (still) so host aunt and I go hunting. 10 minutes later, I'm on my way, although late to school.
6:00: Make it to school. Ready to teach lesson, which we've miraculously done extensive planning for(!). Suddenly, hymnals sound, and impromtu prayer session is held with all students. Followed by impromptu teacher meeting, delaying our class-start by 45 minutes.
6:45: First class of the day starts. Lesson on "advice" using Gossip Girl examples, the Telephone game, and modal verbs goes well!
8:00: Next class begins. Planned activity starts late.
9:13: (10 minutes into 45 minute long activity, for class designated to end at 10:00)--coteacher turns to me: "Class ends at 9:15 today--FYI." Me: "Oh..."
9:15: Class over for the day
10:00: Arrive at mall, where downtime now takes place because on Monday found out the library where I usually crash is closed until May 7. Study Spanish, work on personal projects, and prep for a meeting with a coteacher I've been dreading like crazy, because if the meeting goes badly, my entire two years at the school could be sabataged. This is only a slight exaggeration, if at all.
1:45: Try to leave mall. Encounter an "aguacerro," or torrential downpour, which fills the streets between the mall and my school with arroyos--aka raging rivers. Curbs overflow, rapids take away cars and people, trees become stuck in motorcycle wheels.
2:00: Rain stops. I venture outside, thinking to strategically wind my way through the blocks to school
2:05: Shoes become so irrevocably sodden they cease functioning as shoes. I take them off, and commence walking/wading barefoot through the disgusting, gutterless, rapid-filled streets of Barranquilla (thanking whomever that my tetanus shot is up to date)
2:45: Shoeless, soaked, and feeling dirty not just from the streets, but my brief ride on a bus driver's lap through the last of the raging rivers (no, I'm not exaggerating this at all--they were at least 2 feet deep and I saw three smashed up cars on my way over) (and yes, I had to sit on his lap because I couldn't get around to the real door of the bus) I arrive only 15 minutes late to the meeting. With the stinkiest feet in the world.
3:00: Meeting starts. In the past 15 minutes I have bloodied three hangnails waiting...but meeting proceeds amazingly well!! Instead of the anger I was afraid of (my head coteacher/head of the English department was worried my role in the school was making double the work for her, and had gotten a little...antsy, shall we say, about it...) ...we make lesson plans!! We have innovative ideas!! We're going to incorporate literature (the Hunger Games) into class and I'm given the responsibility of giving homework, which means I can ensure the students get at least some grades that aren't simply "de la corazon," as in, "From the Heart," as in, Bullshit (!!!!!!!) Although I have no idea how this incredible attitude happened, I don't question it. We don't talk about one of the major issues on tap, but I'm happy to let it slide for the moment and ride the accomplishments we had.
5:00: Head to PC office to meet with other PCVs to plan joint English-teacher classes. All downhill from here. Get food and talk with PCV friends, go home to exercise, write, email, talk with family, head to bed...
Other numbers: Tums eaten for newly developed IBS: 8. Tiny bananas discovered and eaten (cause they're just that adorable): 4. Minutes it took the bus to go the normal 45 minutes to the office: 23. Number of beers to finish off the day: 1.
And now, stepping off that rollercoaster...cause tomorrow is another day :)
Many times, I post snippets of what I do. Usually it's an achievement, or something random. Or exciting.
But that isn't, I don't think, entirely indicative of the big picture. And since today was nothing short of a 6 Flags sort of terror, here's example A of what kind of day is a typical one here:
4:45. Wake up. Tiptoe through my host family's bedrooms to get to the bathroom and do necessary, albeit contextually public things.
5:00: Refuse fried food for the umpteenth time
5:35: Try to leave house. Don't have a set of keys (still) so host aunt and I go hunting. 10 minutes later, I'm on my way, although late to school.
6:00: Make it to school. Ready to teach lesson, which we've miraculously done extensive planning for(!). Suddenly, hymnals sound, and impromtu prayer session is held with all students. Followed by impromptu teacher meeting, delaying our class-start by 45 minutes.
6:45: First class of the day starts. Lesson on "advice" using Gossip Girl examples, the Telephone game, and modal verbs goes well!
8:00: Next class begins. Planned activity starts late.
9:13: (10 minutes into 45 minute long activity, for class designated to end at 10:00)--coteacher turns to me: "Class ends at 9:15 today--FYI." Me: "Oh..."
9:15: Class over for the day
10:00: Arrive at mall, where downtime now takes place because on Monday found out the library where I usually crash is closed until May 7. Study Spanish, work on personal projects, and prep for a meeting with a coteacher I've been dreading like crazy, because if the meeting goes badly, my entire two years at the school could be sabataged. This is only a slight exaggeration, if at all.
1:45: Try to leave mall. Encounter an "aguacerro," or torrential downpour, which fills the streets between the mall and my school with arroyos--aka raging rivers. Curbs overflow, rapids take away cars and people, trees become stuck in motorcycle wheels.
2:00: Rain stops. I venture outside, thinking to strategically wind my way through the blocks to school
2:05: Shoes become so irrevocably sodden they cease functioning as shoes. I take them off, and commence walking/wading barefoot through the disgusting, gutterless, rapid-filled streets of Barranquilla (thanking whomever that my tetanus shot is up to date)
2:45: Shoeless, soaked, and feeling dirty not just from the streets, but my brief ride on a bus driver's lap through the last of the raging rivers (no, I'm not exaggerating this at all--they were at least 2 feet deep and I saw three smashed up cars on my way over) (and yes, I had to sit on his lap because I couldn't get around to the real door of the bus) I arrive only 15 minutes late to the meeting. With the stinkiest feet in the world.
3:00: Meeting starts. In the past 15 minutes I have bloodied three hangnails waiting...but meeting proceeds amazingly well!! Instead of the anger I was afraid of (my head coteacher/head of the English department was worried my role in the school was making double the work for her, and had gotten a little...antsy, shall we say, about it...) ...we make lesson plans!! We have innovative ideas!! We're going to incorporate literature (the Hunger Games) into class and I'm given the responsibility of giving homework, which means I can ensure the students get at least some grades that aren't simply "de la corazon," as in, "From the Heart," as in, Bullshit (!!!!!!!) Although I have no idea how this incredible attitude happened, I don't question it. We don't talk about one of the major issues on tap, but I'm happy to let it slide for the moment and ride the accomplishments we had.
5:00: Head to PC office to meet with other PCVs to plan joint English-teacher classes. All downhill from here. Get food and talk with PCV friends, go home to exercise, write, email, talk with family, head to bed...
Other numbers: Tums eaten for newly developed IBS: 8. Tiny bananas discovered and eaten (cause they're just that adorable): 4. Minutes it took the bus to go the normal 45 minutes to the office: 23. Number of beers to finish off the day: 1.
And now, stepping off that rollercoaster...cause tomorrow is another day :)
Wednesday, April 18, 2012
In the Teachers' Lounge
A scene from the teachers' lounge today:
Colombian Teacher 1: "Emily, did you hear about Obama's Secret Service? Heard they had a good time in Cartagena"
Emily: "Uh huh..."
CT 2 (in a loud voice that shuts up everyone in the room): "Well, just goes to show. The US is a corrupt, money-sucking, no good awful very bad hypocritical country who says WE should change... meanwhile they're the worst sinners of them all."
*awkward silence*
CT 3: "So, Emily is right here, you know."
CT 2: "Of course I wasn't talking about her..."
PCV Jessica's take:
Peace Corps: damage control for the US government for the past 40 years...
Colombian Teacher 1: "Emily, did you hear about Obama's Secret Service? Heard they had a good time in Cartagena"
Emily: "Uh huh..."
CT 2 (in a loud voice that shuts up everyone in the room): "Well, just goes to show. The US is a corrupt, money-sucking, no good awful very bad hypocritical country who says WE should change... meanwhile they're the worst sinners of them all."
*awkward silence*
CT 3: "So, Emily is right here, you know."
CT 2: "Of course I wasn't talking about her..."
PCV Jessica's take:
Peace Corps: damage control for the US government for the past 40 years...
Sunday, April 15, 2012
GoGirl Article #2
My second post in GoGirl, a narrative-based travel blog from women all around the world:
http://www.travelgogirl.com/2012/04/being-american-a-hard-habit-to-break/
http://www.travelgogirl.com/2012/04/being-american-a-hard-habit-to-break/
Holy Spring Break!
Last week, I got my first taste of the quintessential perks of being a teacher—an extended holiday-related vacation!
Since last week was Semana Santa, or Holy Week, most public schools had no school for the entire week. (Thursday and Friday were official holidays). In the US we would call this sort of thing Spring Break…but here we don’t even pretend.
Ten weeks into school, and approximately four weeks of non Carnival related classes (see previous blog posts for the havoc that reached/description of how we spent our first six weeks of “school,” we closed out our first quarter and disbanded for vacation.
Happily, I have US teacher friends as well, who get their Spring Breaks conveniently simultaneously—and thus got my first US (or any other kind of) visitor (!!!!!!!!) With a Sunday through Thursday itinerary, we had just enough time to go to the beautiful colonial city of Cartagena, with the other volunteers Tyler and Jessica, and were joined by Cartagena-posted Abby, who took a hostel stay-cation.
I’d always known Cartagena was a tourist town, but being one of those tourists was a pretty surreal experience. We wandered aimlessly around the beautiful walled city, headed out on a launch boat to Islas del Rosario to snorkel and swim at Playa Blanca, and most interestingly, went to Volcon de Totumo, a mud volcano.
These could each be separate posts…but in the interest of time, quick rundown—Playa Blanca is Cartagena’s most notorious beach. Packed because of Semana Santa, I sort of failed to see it’s unique charm…mostly because I’m pretty spoiled here with the amazing beaches—aqua Caribbean water, long stretches of sand, sun, etc. It was gorgeous but overrun by tourists.
Snorkeling was a mixed bag of enjoying the incredible sea life—shockingly brilliant fish of all colors, types, and sizes, indigo, orange, silver, blue, white, striped, all mixtures of the above—in gorgeously clear water, while also mourning for the coral. Coral formations lay broken and dead on the sea floor, ridiculously uncared for while the fish nosed around in their remains. In a few years I can’t imagine there will be much left.
Perhaps our most unique adventure was the mud volcano—Volcano de Totumo. There’s a legend that there was a volcano and a priest blessed it, and the lava turned to mud. I’m not sure how that all should be taken, but it’s pretty weird. It’s a small hill—shaped sort of like a giant ant hill, and you climb up one side to get to the mud-filled top. Climbing in (along with about 15 other tourists) is like entering a crowded anti gravity chamber. The mud has some density that means you can’t sink, so instead you bob and turn, pushing off of people to move and, if you happen to tip, potentially thrashing wildly until someone rights you (not that it happened to me…) The mud is purported to contain 50-odd minerals and such, and two attendants give uncomfortably intimate albeit free massages to all those who enter. Enjoyed by my friends immensely, I surprised myself by not being quite okay with it…you can’t see what’s below you! There could be anything in there!
So after scurrying out (read: flailing through the mud using unsuspecting tourists as grab-handles), we inched our way down the mud-slippery stairs and were bathed in even more awkwardly intimate manners by the local people-washer-women. (After stripping us of our bathing suits they started crying out “Naked Show!” at which point we revealed we spoke Spanish…)
We returned to Barranquilla where we continued on our tour of culture at the Caribbean Culture museum, the scrappy food and “stuff”vendors of El Centro, Barranquilla’s big market, and of course rounded out our tour of fried food with some ridiculous offerings. (Nat’s love of fried food, I’m told, was completely satisfied…arepas de hevos, fried yucca cheese balls, fried cheese dough balls, fried breaded cheese sticks, cheese stuffed arepas, fried plantains, fried empanadas…I might be leaving something out but hopefully not?)
I thought my amazing week was done when I sadly bid farewell to Natalie, but the next day, I met Jaime’s amazing friend Heidi. On vacation from her marketing/advertising job in the states (a highly paid babysitter to the celebrities), she swept us off her feet with her amazing generosity and in “exchange” for our “skills” (I say exchange, because there’s no way to repay her for her generosity), we got to come along on some amazing day trips around the coast. With Jaime as the translator, Tyler as the “bodyguard,” and myself as the “haggler,” we headed to Santa Marta. Although I’d been to Parque Tayrona, I’d never seen the town. We toured the gorgeous little cathedral and historical section of downtown Santa Marta, pushed our way through the ridiculous Holy Week crowds to view a bit of the beach, and spent a day at Taganga, a mountain-rimmed fishing village. Definitely a place to return without the ridiculous crowds of Holy Week Weekend, it was an amazing break from the norm.
We came back to work to the expected chaos, which left us all increasingly grumpy. No lesson plans, no intentions to create them (although I’m putting my foot down on that this week!), no coordination, no communication…and somehow it was like re-learning tolerance all over for that, again.
But after spending yesterday teaching the English teachers about vegetarianism and fast food, in addition to making some pretty delicious veggie burgers, if I do say so myself (I’ll post a recipe soon!)…well, time to get ourselves back into a teaching routine. Exit Colombia the tourist land, and back to reality as a PCV here in Colombia!
Pictures are coming soon…the camera decided to break in Tagana and still waiting to see if it can be fixed L
Friday, April 13, 2012
By the Numbers
I've been lax on posting lately, as the last two weeks have been full of "Reconnect"--our first in-service training, immediately followed by Semana Santa, during which I went to Cartagena and Santa Marta (full post on that coming soon!)
But tonight, lying awake with a cold and sweating in the "winter"heat, I've realized today marks the official 6 month anniversary of my arrival in Colombia. Sort of a long time...but in the scheme of my 27 month adventure, almost nothing at all.
Either way, here are a few stats*
Weeks I've spent in Barranquilla: 26.5
Weeks I've spent as an official volunteer:17.5
Families I've lived with: 2
Students I've worked with: 500ish
Weeks school has been in session: 13
Weeks we've had actual classes: 5
Minutes it takes to walk to my school: 23
Hours I spend teaching each week: 22
Number of times I've danced publicly, for an audience: 7
Number of times in my life I've danced for an audience: 7
Arepas eaten (of any sort): 150. Give or take a few
Times I've been asked if I have a boyfriend:150. Give or take a few.
Creations cooked and consumed by myself and fellow volunteers: 30 or so
Things I've cooked the Colombians have liked: 5
Colombian cities I've visited: 4 (Santa Marta, Cartagena, Valledupar, Bogota)
Barranquillan bus routes I've ridden: 23
Articles of clothing I've "grown out"of: 4
Guests who have visited from United States: 1
Volunteers who have so far gone home: 2
Months left: 21
*accuracy all up for grabs. I was never very good at math
I'm sure there are more exciting stats, and many wonderful and other things I've just never really thought to keep track of. I speak for not only myself when I say there's a lot of counting in the Peace Corps. We count up the days we've been here. The months left. The hours of time spent working...the hours of time spent waiting...the hours of time spent sweating...the number of students we love more than anything...the number of coteachers we work with weekly...the list goes on.
Without a structure like we've ever known before, numbers help us get through, give us some kind of order. A record of what we've done so far, a mark of what is still to come. A triumphant measure of small successes, a surreal acknowledgement of passing time, a bastion or mantra to recite when the daily rollercoaster starts swooping, and a measurement of how far we've come.
This is the longest I've ever lived out of the country, the longest I've ever lived in the city, the longest I've ever gone without entering a forest or playing in the snow or taking a moonlit walk. It's the longest I've gone without seeing family, and the longest I've gone without celebrating a holiday in an American fashion.
27 months will be more than double the longest I've ever been in one place since high school--the longest time I've been in a self-directed job and the longest time I've ever faced to sustain ideas and projects and continue building on activities. It's simultaneously amazing to think of the opportunities this brings, but honestly, a touch claustrophobic, to know I'll be here, in this very spot, for 21 more months...because for the first time, instead of jumping to a new location and/or occupation to keep life interesting, I have only myself to depend on for that!
But tonight, lying awake with a cold and sweating in the "winter"heat, I've realized today marks the official 6 month anniversary of my arrival in Colombia. Sort of a long time...but in the scheme of my 27 month adventure, almost nothing at all.
Either way, here are a few stats*
Weeks I've spent in Barranquilla: 26.5
Weeks I've spent as an official volunteer:17.5
Families I've lived with: 2
Students I've worked with: 500ish
Weeks school has been in session: 13
Weeks we've had actual classes: 5
Minutes it takes to walk to my school: 23
Hours I spend teaching each week: 22
Number of times I've danced publicly, for an audience: 7
Number of times in my life I've danced for an audience: 7
Arepas eaten (of any sort): 150. Give or take a few
Times I've been asked if I have a boyfriend:150. Give or take a few.
Creations cooked and consumed by myself and fellow volunteers: 30 or so
Things I've cooked the Colombians have liked: 5
Colombian cities I've visited: 4 (Santa Marta, Cartagena, Valledupar, Bogota)
Barranquillan bus routes I've ridden: 23
Articles of clothing I've "grown out"of: 4
Guests who have visited from United States: 1
Volunteers who have so far gone home: 2
Months left: 21
*accuracy all up for grabs. I was never very good at math
I'm sure there are more exciting stats, and many wonderful and other things I've just never really thought to keep track of. I speak for not only myself when I say there's a lot of counting in the Peace Corps. We count up the days we've been here. The months left. The hours of time spent working...the hours of time spent waiting...the hours of time spent sweating...the number of students we love more than anything...the number of coteachers we work with weekly...the list goes on.
Without a structure like we've ever known before, numbers help us get through, give us some kind of order. A record of what we've done so far, a mark of what is still to come. A triumphant measure of small successes, a surreal acknowledgement of passing time, a bastion or mantra to recite when the daily rollercoaster starts swooping, and a measurement of how far we've come.
This is the longest I've ever lived out of the country, the longest I've ever lived in the city, the longest I've ever gone without entering a forest or playing in the snow or taking a moonlit walk. It's the longest I've gone without seeing family, and the longest I've gone without celebrating a holiday in an American fashion.
27 months will be more than double the longest I've ever been in one place since high school--the longest time I've been in a self-directed job and the longest time I've ever faced to sustain ideas and projects and continue building on activities. It's simultaneously amazing to think of the opportunities this brings, but honestly, a touch claustrophobic, to know I'll be here, in this very spot, for 21 more months...because for the first time, instead of jumping to a new location and/or occupation to keep life interesting, I have only myself to depend on for that!
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