I've been...busy? Not much has happened in and of itself that's all that new or exciting (minus a visit from a friend from the US (!) but we mostly retread old stomping grounds) . As substitute, here's an aggregate of the last few weeks
1. Started school. I'm teaching with 4 new teachers, most of whom don't speak English past an A2 level. And yet, it's been great planning and teaching with them so far...not because our classes are amazing, but because it feels like we're actually getting a bit done. Slow change is definitely the new motto.
2. Had another US visitor (!). We checked out Santa Marta and Minca, this amazing little mountain town outside of Santa Marta. Visited waterfalls and wells, bought fresh coffee from a local family (which naturally turned into a spontaneous revivalist prayer meeting), and saw more hummingbirds in fifteen minutes than I've seen total in my life. Turns out there are a few varieties in the Sierra Nevadas in that area that don't exist anywhere else...but you'd have to ask the real birdwatchers what they were. I just saw incredibly gorgeous, tiny, iridescent birds of different shades and sizes...
3. Bought and ate raw honey, from Minca. Complete with little insects, that's how real it is. Used it in stovetop apple crisp (chopped apples plus cinnamon plus a pinch of salt and juice of a lime, boiled down in water with honey, topped with granola and yogurt. Amazing.)
4. I am turning orange. Slightly. Nothing to match another PCV who is incredibly, noticeably orange. You know that whole eat-too-many-carrots-you-turn-orange myth? Not such a myth. Have to say, I'm pretty proud of my slightly orange-shaded palms. Turns out subsidizing one's diet with carrots, tomatoes, papaya, and squash has a henna-ish effect...
5. I've consumed ridiculous amounts of guanabana, which has recently come into season. It's bigger and much heavier than a football, and resembles something like a headless, tail-less, wingless dragon. Its flesh is white, sort of like a fish but more fibrous, and has these giant black seeds you have to work out with your teeth. It's flavored something like a mixed-fruit smoothie, all on its own. ...In short, it's terrifying and delicious. Check it out: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Soursop
6. I am also becoming cat-like. Sadly, only in the virtue of hating to get my feet wet. We're entering the second rainy season. Today the streets had turned into a grid of arroyos between my house and school, but from rain from the north that never actually reached us, in the coming-from-the-sky version Which meant that in order to not wet my feet/splash through nasty arroyo water, I walked about 30 minutes out of my way in weather that had not cooled post-rain...because all the rain had stayed on the northern (read: heavens-favored in all ways) part of the city.
7. Going on a month, now, I have listened exclusively to Modest Mouse. Colombia, you are changing my musical tastes.
8. I haven't progressed further in learning to play guitar, but I do own one now. And can play a few songs. I'll keep you posted on progress once I get back into practicing. Nothing like strumming kumbayah, however, to make one feel like a genuine PCV, that's for sure.
9. Turns out, soy milk is great for cooking veggies in, for curry-like mixtures. Also turns out, cooking tomatoes in real milk causes it to curdle. (Science, you win yet again!) Fortunately, that just makes everything taste sort of cheesey...but soy milk is a great substitute. Albeit a bit expensive.
10. I found out my favorite (northern-located) panaderia has free wireless. This is going to wreak massive havoc on my (already carb-high) daily diet! They have FOCACCIA. With rosemary, garlic, tomatoes and onions. Focaccia, I say! Don't even get me started on the chocolate cake...
Showing posts with label Random. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Random. Show all posts
Friday, August 3, 2012
Sunday, May 27, 2012
How to Ride a Bus, Barranquilla-Style
Riding a city bus in Barranquilla is not quite the same as in the States. First of all, almost all the buses are run by private companies. They pick their routes and for the most part stick to them. However, this is never a sure thing. For these buses, there are also no bus stops. Instead, one makes one’s way to a street where the bus generally passes, and waits. If your intended bus hasn’t arrived within five minutes, you are probably on the wrong street.
When your bus does come barreling by, you stick your hand out and do a floppy sort of Hitler salute, indicating to the driver you’d like to climb on. Then, despite the lack of a “Release” waiver, you climb on. In hindsight—as well as foresight, while you’re at it—this almost always seems like a bad decision. But, since you’re lacking a car and distance or the presence of arroyos has forced your hand, as they do a regrettably significant amount on a weekly basis, on you go.
If you’re lucky, you may find a seat. But let’s say, for the fun of it, it’s one of the many “busy” times during the day (7am-10am, 11am-2pm, 4pm-forever). Let’s pick 9:00 pm, because you were silly enough to put off sundry-shopping until then on a Sunday night, and the streets are too unsafe to walk, and you as well as the world needs to return home.
So, you stand by the corner and wait until the particular pattern of flashing lights announce that your bus is arriving (each bus distinguishes itself with lights, colors, and a variety of casino-worthy decorations). You flag it down, then haul yourself up the first few steps and stand wedged on the top step. You are lucky enough to ascend this far since, in this scenario, you happen to be a small pale girl; rather than having to cling to the door handle while the wind tugs at your belongings as well as yourself, other hapless men take their places on the bottom step where they stand half in and half out the door. As the surrounding men stare ardently, you give over your 1500 mil pesos to the driver (about 80 American cents), who is impetuously holding out his hand for your fare even as he talks on his cell phone, accelerates down the narrow street, and jokes with the person sitting shotgun.
Then, it’s time to hold on, because bus rides are nothing, here, if not a test of bus’s brakes. The bus drivers clearly have somewhere better to be, always, because they are champions at speeding up directly into the person in front of them, then slamming on their breaks to avoid hitting them. They then blast their horn multiple times, but when that doesn’t work, they pull into the opposite lane to cut off whomever they can, even as oncoming traffic charges towards them. As one Barranquillan said, “If you have a big vehicle, you do whatever you want.” Buses, by virtue of being the biggest, are the tyrannical, maniacal kings of the street.
It’s a frightening thing, being this close to the front window and able to witness these driving feats, but no matter—because soon the bus driver will glance back and see that an inch of space has opened in the back. After hollering for people to squeeze in more, he’ll crank the turnstile so you make it past the steps, until you are standing so close to the people crowding the aisles that your sweaty arms begin to slide together in unison to the bus’s jerks and stops.
Not lucky enough to land near a window, your sweat-soaked clothes bear witness to the fact that the temperature in the bus aisle is approximately ten degrees hotter than outside, which, after a long day approaching 100, has finally slid down to the low 90’s, and you realize, as the woman opposite you in the aisle bumps her ample self into your back, and then leans back against you and settles in for the ride, that there are more than just traffic-related reasons you may not survive this bus ride. But the gods are good, because at least your companions have mostly used deodorant.
A gut-wrenching series of stops, starts, turns, accelerations and near-accidents later, you lean over some passengers, peer out the window, and see from the numbered streets that you are rapidly approaching your destination address. Too rapidly. Although just minutes before the streets were so congested you moved only in fits and bursts, suddenly the way has cleared. And in the space of time it will take this racing bus to go four blocks, you need to squeeze through a bus aisle stuffed three-people deep.
If you are good at Twister, these skills might come in handy, although better if you’ve ever played it in a dark and oscillating setting. Hauling your now-curse-of-a-grocery bag, you climb over legs, squeeze between flesh, push, pull, yank, levitate, and there it is—the door. You search for the button to push, that will let you out of this careening Hell—and you see that it’s broken.
Parada! You shout. Because you have no choice. And the entire bus swivels to stare you down, you who already pissed off at least ten people by stepping on them or squashing their families, in your quest for the door. Gringas, you can see them think.
But, mercifully, the bus shudders to a stop. You lurch off, gaining your legs slowly on the sidewalk, breathing in the suddenly sweet-seeming Barranquilla air.
And, for the moment, you’ve survived. As long as you can figure out how to make it across the street…
Saturday, May 19, 2012
The Clothes Make the (Wo)Man
Fair warning: this post is a bit shallow. It revolves around clothing. If my dressing habits interest you not in the slightest, pause--I'll post something more interesting sooner or later :)
.....
When we got our welcome packets from Peace Corps telling us we were officially heading off to Colombia as English teachers for the next 26 months, one thing included in that packet was a recommended packing list, as well as clothing guidelines.
I don't remember the exact lines in the list, but one thing they told us was that here, teachers are "professional." Under no circumstances should we expect to get away with Chaco/Keane sandals. It intimated we should also NOT plan on our work wardrobe consisting of what I would have envisioned wearing in the Peace Corps--cotton t shirts, loose casual skirts, etc--hippy things, you might say. Instead, I remember vividly it included "1-2" button down shirts. Of the long-sleeved sort. Professional skirts and slacks were recommended.
Now, I have to believe that whoever compiled that list had never stepped into a public school here...or was potentially the least observant person ever...but that's another story. In the US, that was all the information I had to go on!
Prior to Peace Corps, I worked at a corporate job where our official dress policy in the office was "wear clothes, if customers are present." Preparing to leave, I joked with my friends I would acquire my first "professional" wardrobe for the Peace Corps. I traded in my favorite basic-style tees and capris for a more "grown-up" wardrobe; a selection of professional skirts, shoes, and button down shirts later, along with a few more durable selections for relaxation and such...I arrived in Colombia.
Fast forward to starting actual work this past January-- Let me share with you a few of the normal outfit combinations of the teachers of my school:
-See through mesh shirts. Paired with skintight jeans. And fuck-me heels
-Cleavage-baring shirts. Paired with skintight jeans. And fuck-me heels.
-Crazily-bedazzled shirts. With or without English sayings like, "I'm so Sexy!" Paired with skintight jeans. And some sort of heels.
-Polo shirts. Paired with skintight jeans. Heels and/or flats.
-Long hippy skirts and cotton peasant blouses. With flats
-Cotton peasant blouses...skintight jeans...etc
A little elaboration on a few of these items:
On the water sandals note: I have stuck to walking as much as I can, preferring the dirt of the streets to the hot claustrophobia of the crazed city buses. On the streets, I have been stopped by strangers on the street to ask where I got my Chacos. My fellow volunteers' Keanes are a huge source of admiration by all my host family. Needless to say, my leather dress sandals don't see the light of day very often here...they began disintegrating in the very first rainfall! And they don't do well for skirting the piles of dog crap in the streets, either...and turns out, when you're looking "weird" in otherwise "professional" clothing, Teva sandals don't actually make you look any stranger.
Long ago I forwent my button down shirts, my nice shoes, my khaki pants, etc. When just walking into a classroom induces sweat to start rolling down every inch of my body, and "professional" clothes don't win points here anyway, it didn't seem worth it. So instead I went through a small-ish rotating cast of my slightly less-professional clothing from the states.
And then, my birthday box arrived from my parents. With a few pretty, comfortable, basic shirts and skirts, just like I would have worn way back when on college campuses, or family dinners, or restaurants...or whatever. Lovely, wonderful, familiar Emily-clothes. I didn't realize how much clothing shapes my personal image until I tried them on...and there I was, me again! Not a reinvented, out-of-place "professional," not a provisionally clothed camper, but me!
I am certainly never going to fit in, in the clothing sense here. But at least now, even when I get those weird looks, at least I can weather them looking and feeling happily like myself!
PS Thanks Mom and Dad!!! <3
.....
When we got our welcome packets from Peace Corps telling us we were officially heading off to Colombia as English teachers for the next 26 months, one thing included in that packet was a recommended packing list, as well as clothing guidelines.
I don't remember the exact lines in the list, but one thing they told us was that here, teachers are "professional." Under no circumstances should we expect to get away with Chaco/Keane sandals. It intimated we should also NOT plan on our work wardrobe consisting of what I would have envisioned wearing in the Peace Corps--cotton t shirts, loose casual skirts, etc--hippy things, you might say. Instead, I remember vividly it included "1-2" button down shirts. Of the long-sleeved sort. Professional skirts and slacks were recommended.
Now, I have to believe that whoever compiled that list had never stepped into a public school here...or was potentially the least observant person ever...but that's another story. In the US, that was all the information I had to go on!
Prior to Peace Corps, I worked at a corporate job where our official dress policy in the office was "wear clothes, if customers are present." Preparing to leave, I joked with my friends I would acquire my first "professional" wardrobe for the Peace Corps. I traded in my favorite basic-style tees and capris for a more "grown-up" wardrobe; a selection of professional skirts, shoes, and button down shirts later, along with a few more durable selections for relaxation and such...I arrived in Colombia.
Fast forward to starting actual work this past January-- Let me share with you a few of the normal outfit combinations of the teachers of my school:
-See through mesh shirts. Paired with skintight jeans. And fuck-me heels
-Cleavage-baring shirts. Paired with skintight jeans. And fuck-me heels.
-Crazily-bedazzled shirts. With or without English sayings like, "I'm so Sexy!" Paired with skintight jeans. And some sort of heels.
-Polo shirts. Paired with skintight jeans. Heels and/or flats.
-Long hippy skirts and cotton peasant blouses. With flats
-Cotton peasant blouses...skintight jeans...etc
A little elaboration on a few of these items:
- Skintight Jeans: Despite the fact that it is probably a "real-feel" of 120 degrees here on a regular basis here and air conditioning is just a long-lost dream, and regardless of professional, age, or weight status, jeans here are worn skintight. Females who weigh 100 pounds manage to find jeans that give them muffin tops. And by the time you're past that weight, well, we're way beyond calling the extra flesh "love handles." I honestly don't know how people put them on, let alone survive the day.
- Bedazzled things: If you're ADD, you're in for a rough time, because there are sparkly things EVERYWHERE. Jean pockets, t-shirts, jean fronts, bags, hair clips...you name the item and fabric, it probably is covered in rhinestones.
- High heeled shoes: The shoes worn by approximately 70 percent of any and all females at any given time here are heels I wouldn't even contemplate for say, a glitzy New Years Eve party. We're talking, 5 inches of shiny patent pleather stiletto heels. Now, I'm not a heels gal in general, but this just takes it to a whole new level. Professional Colombian women don't tend to walk long distances in the streets.
- Makeup: Women here wear full-out makeup on a daily basis. Pancake foundation, glittery eyeshadow, lipstick, eyeliner, mascara...it goes on. This stuff must be made out of miracle polymer, because how it doesn't melt off their faces I will never know. I am regularly asked a) why I don't wear makeup, and b) is everyone in the US as strange as I am, heading out into the world so denuded?
On the water sandals note: I have stuck to walking as much as I can, preferring the dirt of the streets to the hot claustrophobia of the crazed city buses. On the streets, I have been stopped by strangers on the street to ask where I got my Chacos. My fellow volunteers' Keanes are a huge source of admiration by all my host family. Needless to say, my leather dress sandals don't see the light of day very often here...they began disintegrating in the very first rainfall! And they don't do well for skirting the piles of dog crap in the streets, either...and turns out, when you're looking "weird" in otherwise "professional" clothing, Teva sandals don't actually make you look any stranger.
Long ago I forwent my button down shirts, my nice shoes, my khaki pants, etc. When just walking into a classroom induces sweat to start rolling down every inch of my body, and "professional" clothes don't win points here anyway, it didn't seem worth it. So instead I went through a small-ish rotating cast of my slightly less-professional clothing from the states.
And then, my birthday box arrived from my parents. With a few pretty, comfortable, basic shirts and skirts, just like I would have worn way back when on college campuses, or family dinners, or restaurants...or whatever. Lovely, wonderful, familiar Emily-clothes. I didn't realize how much clothing shapes my personal image until I tried them on...and there I was, me again! Not a reinvented, out-of-place "professional," not a provisionally clothed camper, but me!
I am certainly never going to fit in, in the clothing sense here. But at least now, even when I get those weird looks, at least I can weather them looking and feeling happily like myself!
PS Thanks Mom and Dad!!! <3
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...
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!
Thursday, March 22, 2012
Shameless plug: TravelGoGirl.com
In the Peace Corps, we have three "official goals."
1) Our primary project - in my case, teaching.
2) Our secondary projects - an integration of our work into our communities, like English classes for the school district (see future post), school cleanups (see past post), and more.
3) Cultural exchanges, etc.
Recently, I was offered the opportunity to contribute to an awesome online publication about my experiences here; this, you might say, is part of my third goal, and hence I am shamelessly plugging it: my new monthly colomn in "GoGirl," a story-based travel magazine blog written by and for women all around the globe.
Though perhaps reminiscent of some of the posts I have here, it's pretty exciting that a) it's public, and b) it's part of an awesome blog compilation of travel stories...so I'd love if you checked it out!
http://www.travelgogirl.com/2012/03/barranquillas-carnaval-to-live-it-is-to-enjoy-it/
1) Our primary project - in my case, teaching.
2) Our secondary projects - an integration of our work into our communities, like English classes for the school district (see future post), school cleanups (see past post), and more.
3) Cultural exchanges, etc.
Recently, I was offered the opportunity to contribute to an awesome online publication about my experiences here; this, you might say, is part of my third goal, and hence I am shamelessly plugging it: my new monthly colomn in "GoGirl," a story-based travel magazine blog written by and for women all around the globe.
Though perhaps reminiscent of some of the posts I have here, it's pretty exciting that a) it's public, and b) it's part of an awesome blog compilation of travel stories...so I'd love if you checked it out!
http://www.travelgogirl.com/2012/03/barranquillas-carnaval-to-live-it-is-to-enjoy-it/
Wednesday, March 21, 2012
Going in circles...
Literally!
The other day, I decided enough was enough. Due to weather, school schedules, street safety, and the lack of a key to my house to let myself out without family noticing, I haven't run in months. Although I do a fair amount of walking, this was not a) satisfying my love of aerobic exercise, or b) counteracting the four-persons'-worth of food I receive on a daily basis.
Now, what I did will probably not alleviate the associated problems with the latter issue. However, happiness on the aerobic front is mine, because I bought an elipitical!
Whoa, am I in the Peace Corps, or, as we sometimes call it here, the "Posh" Corps??
Yet to be determined.
However, the giant department stores here each carry an eliptical along the lines of 240 mil pesos (under 150 dollars), and I had saved enough to afford this from my "moving in" allowance when I became an official volunteer.
Securing it from the store, taxi-ing it home in its giant cardboard box, and putting it together was a totally new adventure, which required the assistance of two menfolk (awesome co-volunteer Tyler and equally awesome host brother Gonzalo), some pretty skilled diagram-reading, and some jerry-rigging. (it's a super good thing my host brother is an engineering student, to correct both the mistakes Tyler and I made putting it together initially, as well as to take the whole thing apart after first construction attempt to correct a faulty-manufacturing issue...)
And so, because I don't go in circles enough in my real life (hah!), I can now jump on my rickety elipitical and do some more, all without leaving thedarkness comfort of my cave room!
The other day, I decided enough was enough. Due to weather, school schedules, street safety, and the lack of a key to my house to let myself out without family noticing, I haven't run in months. Although I do a fair amount of walking, this was not a) satisfying my love of aerobic exercise, or b) counteracting the four-persons'-worth of food I receive on a daily basis.
Now, what I did will probably not alleviate the associated problems with the latter issue. However, happiness on the aerobic front is mine, because I bought an elipitical!
Whoa, am I in the Peace Corps, or, as we sometimes call it here, the "Posh" Corps??
Yet to be determined.
However, the giant department stores here each carry an eliptical along the lines of 240 mil pesos (under 150 dollars), and I had saved enough to afford this from my "moving in" allowance when I became an official volunteer.
Securing it from the store, taxi-ing it home in its giant cardboard box, and putting it together was a totally new adventure, which required the assistance of two menfolk (awesome co-volunteer Tyler and equally awesome host brother Gonzalo), some pretty skilled diagram-reading, and some jerry-rigging. (it's a super good thing my host brother is an engineering student, to correct both the mistakes Tyler and I made putting it together initially, as well as to take the whole thing apart after first construction attempt to correct a faulty-manufacturing issue...)
And so, because I don't go in circles enough in my real life (hah!), I can now jump on my rickety elipitical and do some more, all without leaving the
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| Tyler got excited and dove right in |
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| Easier than reading Spanish directions? |
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| Gonzalo working his magic |
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