Holiday season miracle

So, those of you who follow the blog religiously have been asking me, "WHAT WAS THE MIRACLE??!!" Time for the story.

I was waiting in line at the Ministerio de Relaciones Exteriores (if you don't understand that, try this app) - 4 hours in total. Fortunately, I'd thought to bring the ipod with me, but unfortunately, I forgot to bring headphones. Whenever I have my ipod and am bored, I always check to see if I can steal someone's unprotected wireless internet connection. Sadly, labor in Colombia is very cheap. This means that 99% of people hire someone else to set up their internet connection, and thus, the vast majority are password-protected.

Time for the.... HOLIDAY MIRACLE! Linksys-named wireless internet connection! No password! I only had 1 bar, though... The connection went in and out, lasting long enough for me to download Angry Birds Lite and see what all the fuss is about (I still don't get it), but cutting me off right as I started this blog post (ohhh, the irony...).

After 3.5 hours on the ipod, I was finally called up to the desk to learn whether or not I was lucky enough to be granted my request for a student visa. Time for the.... SECOND HOLIDAY MIRACLE! The visa is supposed to cost $40. For some reason, mine was free.

Why are we getting student visas, you might ask? Turns out that in Colombia, you can work legally (no limits on the number of hours per week). We signed up for a year's worth of dirt-cheap random classes at an institute in Bogotá, and now I am a proud owner of a Colombia student visa.

Colombian Locker Room Etiquette

Following up on Robin's post regarding random-stuff-Colombians-do, I thought I'd write a brief post about a cultural difference between the United States and Colombia: locker rooms. About a month and a half ago, I realized that I hadn't really done any kind of physical activity for several months, so I decided to give in and join a gym. Of course, the cheapest option was a year-long membership, so we'll be in Colombia at the very least until October of next year.

The gym is very nice, on par with the usual offerings in the 'States, and even has a sauna. The locker room however is a little small, and that brings us to the real topic of this post. In the U.S., locker rooms are full of saggy old men, hairless muscular men in tight briefs, and every body type in between. Modesty is optional. Usually, in life, when you're trying to be invisible, you look down. You quickly learn not to look down in American locker rooms.

So, the first (and only) time I walked naked to the shower in the gym, I got a few looks, and thought to myself "that's weird." I got changed, and thought nothing of it, but the next time I went to the gym, there was a middle-aged woman cleaning the men's locker room. Ahhhhh. Because of the 24hr. empleada service, and because most empleadas are women, modesty reigns in Colombian locker rooms. This theory was torpedoed when I saw an empleadO walk out of the women's locker room. WTF. Don't they realize that they could just swap? In any case, this means that the only penis that I've seen in Colombia (besides my own of course) is Brett Favre's.

The Transmilenio

We've already mentioned Bogotá's bus system. You know, the private buses that will swerve across four lanes of traffic to get their $1300 peso fare (~$0.75). Well, then there is the Transmilenio. This is the "rapid" bus system that has designated bus lanes and stations, much like an above-ground subway. I use quotation marks because it is often the slowest form of transportation in this city aside from walking. It's usually really crowded and stuffy, thus its nickname, Transmilleno (a pun for you hispanohablantes out there).

I have never more appreciated American culture than when boarding the Transmilenio. In DC people actually follow the rule of "let people get off before you get on the bus." But nooooo here in Bogotá, everyone literally pushes to get on the Transmilenio. And then bitch about how everyone pushes to get on the Transmilenio. God bless the old ladies and people in wheelchairs.

But I have never more appreciated Colombian culture than what I learned today. I have often noticed that when a seat opens up on the Transmilenio (a rare and cherished event), people will stand in front of the seat as if they are going to sit down, wait 10-15 seconds, and then sit down. I'm talking about people of all ages, races, social classes, etc. and could never quite figure out why the hell they did that. Old people who can barely stand! Pregnant ladies! Young men! What was the common thread here?

So I finally asked Paula (no, not my sister) and Andrés, my go-to sources for all things Colombian culture. And you know what their response was?

P & A: "You know, the seat is really hot after someone stands up. You have to let it cool off."

Me: "SERIOUSLY????"

Andrés: "Yeah, I always wait a little bit to sit down. It's really uncomfortable to sit down on a seat when it's really warm."

I couldn't stop laughing for at least five minutes. I mean, I had all sorts of theories conjured up, the one I thought most probable being that (in this Catholic/Christian country) people were praying before they sat down. But in this cold city, people don't want to sit down because the seat is warm?

An Etsy Wedding

First off, I'd like to offer up a disclaimer: this post will have very little to do with Colombia.

Many of you know that I LOVE to buy stuff online. Ebay and Amazon, after gmail, are probably my most-visited websites. Etsy, though... Etsy is a GOLDMINE for wedding-related paraphernalia. Before our wedding, we had a very hard time finding a ketubah that we liked. We pored through website after website of generic judaica-y-looking ketubahs that were devoid of personality and special meaning to us. The text was standardized, the picitures were standardized; the process was about as personal as buying a book off Amazon. On Etsy, however, we found the ketubah of our dreams. Papercut, colorful, customizable, and, as an added bonus, much cheaper than the other ketubahs on offer. The artist's name is Jerise, and if you liked what you saw at our wedding and are getting married soon, I highly recommend that you send her an email.

While we were on this pre-wedding Etsy binge, Robin decided that she wanted to buy me a wedding gift. I was a bit confused, then excited to receive a gift, and after a little while we stumbled across some handmade map cufflinks. What could be more appropriate to Robin and I than maps? Each cufflink has a different map, Athens in one and Washington, D.C. in the other. Of course, I wore them to the wedding, and they're still the only pair of cufflinks I own.

I loved my wedding ring. 18k yellow gold comfort fit milgraine 6mm wide 2mm thick size 8.5. It was awesome. It was a little big, and Robin always nagged me to send it off to get resized, but due to a combination of laziness and an unwillingness to be separated from my ring, I never did it. Now my wonderful band rests somewhere in the sewer system of Popayán, Colombia, a victim of having fallen down a sink. Jobless and quickly burning through our savings, the idea of paying the premium for a recycled metal didn't exactly excite us. I turned to my trusty Ebay and found the exact same ring (except 1.3 mm thick instead of 2 mm) available for a fraction of the price (though still not a negligible amount).

That's when we turned to Etsy and found the ULTIMATE (no, not frisbee) green, recycled metal wedding ring.

Just Around the Corner: Wilder's Pizza

Welcome to Part I of my new blog series: Just Around the Corner.

I love our neighborhood, La Macarena. It's really the first place I've lived that has felt like a true neighborhood (in a different sense of the word than the neighborhoods of Dunwoody). By "true" neighborhood, I mean that we know all of our neighbors, namely the shopowners. I know where my money goes.

The Just Around the Corner series will feature a different small business owner each post. I'm using the blog as an excuse to sit down with the dueños of La Macarena and learn more about our neighborhood. As a bonus, y'all get to learn, too.

There is really no other place to start than with Wilder of Wilder's Pizza. He opened up Wilder's Pizza in La Macarena about two years ago. Before he started his own pizzería, Wilder had been working for ten and a half years around the corner at Monapizza, the rival neighborhood pizza joint. The interview was conducted in Spanish, but I've translated it here for you gringos.

Have I mentioned the ridiculously tempting pizza smells that torture us every day as we walk in and out of our apartment? I mean, this place is literally two doors down.

RCT: Why did you want to open your own pizzería?

Wilder: I wanted to be independent, to bring in more income.

RCT: Where did you learn to make such delicious pizza?
Wilder: At Jeno's Pizza (a pizza chain in Bogotá). But our recipes here are all our own.

RCT: How many times a week do you eat pizza?

Wilder: Every day! I never get sick of it. Lasagna is my favorite thing on the menu - the one with mushrooms, onions, bacon, chicken, and cream. But I only eat that about once a month or so.

RCT: How has La Macarena changed in the time that you've been working in the area?

Wilder: There are more businesses, more restaurants. Lots of foreigners come from all over the world. I have a lot of foreign clients here. But of course I also have lots of Colombians from the neighborhood who are regulars. It’s a Bohemian barrio, lots of painters, artists, journalists, politicians. Now lots of tourists are coming in, lots of foreigners; it wasn't like that before. Also, it’s a lot more expensive to rent in this neighborhood now. The estrato has increased from 3 to 4 or 5. This restaurant is estrato 4. (Editor's note: The Colombian government ranks socio-economic classes on a scale of 1 to 6, with 1 being the poorest of the poor and 6 being the richest of the rich. Your estrato determines how much you pay in taxes, and the price of utilities varies widely depending on which estrato you live in. We live in estrato 3.)

RCT: Is there some kind of association of businesses in La Macarena?

Wilder: No, there are just independent small businesses.

RCT: Does the city of Bogotá or the Colombian government provide any kind of support to small independent businesses?

Wilder: (chuckle) No, not really. To get support from the government, you have to pay higher taxes. (Editor's note: I wasn't really sure what he meant here.)

RCT: How has Bogotá changed in the years since you have lived? You're from Bogotá, right?

Wilder: Yes, I'm from Bogotá. The parks have changed, there are a lot more now. TransMilenio (rapid bus lines) changed the city – it’s a lot quicker to get around the city now. There are lots more malls. Before, if you needed to buy something, you went to street vendors, and that was dangerous. Robbery was a lot more common, it never felt safe to buy from the street vendors. Now there are malls everywhere and it’s safe; you can buy whatever you need in just one place.

There isn’t as much trash in the street, people are more educated about keeping the city clean, it’s much cleaner now. People have learned to actually put trash in trash cans. Before about eight years ago, there weren’t trash cans in the sidewalks in the same way there are now. And the city has grown, there are lots more people here than there were before.

RCT: Why do you want to learn English? (Note: Wilder always tries to practice his English with me every time I walk by the pizzería. Think of the Colombian equivalent of my father.)
Wilder: Well, mainly because I like speaking English. Lots of foreigners come here. I like speaking English with them. I taught myself. I often see words in English on signs around the city, so I write them down and look them up in dictionaries when I get home. I love listening to music in English. I love 70’s and 80’s music. I like listening to Gloria Estefan's songs in English.

RCT: Has Wilder's Pizza been successful?
Wilder: Yes, the restaurant has been very successful because lots of people know me in the neighborhood. Since I'd been working here for many years before, everyone already knew me.

RCT: What are your future plans for the restaurant?
Wilder: I have plans to open another pizzeria, of course! Of course I want to expand. Eventually, I want to open a restaurant in La Candelaria (historic neighborhood to the south), and I'll be expanding the one we already have here in January or February.

Selling my soul for $10/hour

Yes, yes. I know that some of you would argue that this is actually the second time I've sold my soul. And, well, Mark, I really don't have a comeback for that.

Today, Robin and I went to an English-teaching institute called Smart to see if we might be able to make some money and teach some English lessons. Over the last couple of weeks, we'd heard that October through December is kind of a dead season for teaching English, so our odds of finding work would be slim. As a result, we decided that we would focus our energies on lining things up such that when we come back from the 'States in January, we'll be ready to start working.

Fortunately, Smart has an immediate need for English teachers, and the guy who interviewed us even asked if we could start tomorrow. Good news, right? Even better, they'll sponsor us for a work visa, and, depending on my negotiation skills, might even pay for it... Now, of course, none of this is written in stone -- no contract has been signed, I'm not actually going to start working tomorrow (of course a phone call went unreturned), and this does mean that an 8-hour work day would be 6-9, 12-2, and 5-8. Fun, I know, not to mention the weekend work...

Robin worried that this meant we were "selling out," acting as our own dream assassins. I reminded her that we would only be selling our souls if we stopped looking for other work (preferably something where we could speak Spanish/where Robin could do GIS). At the end of the day, being able to work in a country legally and prevent your savings from dwindling away to nothing is definitely a good thing.

Once upon a dinner party

So, we've continued with our tradition of hosting ridiculously large dinner parties here in Bogotá. In many respects, this is the most important thing we can do to try to find a job. Networking is the best way to hear about work, so there's added reason for us to make lots of new friends, beyond the fact that we're trying to build a community for ourselves. It makes it a lot easier to cement friendships when we can invite everyone we know over to our apartment almost every week. Besides, who doesn't like delicious free food?

The only problem with this approach is that there isn't really much of a dinner culture in Bogotá. Most people eat a huge lunch and a very light dinner, and most of our friends work late into the night during the week. As a result, we had a "late lunch" party instead of a dinner party on Sunday. I made empanadas for the first time, and they were the most amazing things I've ever eaten. Shockingly, we didn't run out, and I've been able to snack on leftovers that I've kept frozen. We went to a play (awful, but we got a free glass of wine) yesterday with the vet who works below our apartment, and he said that there are lots of types of empanadas in this country, but his favorite is Jerry's empanadas. On the other hand, the challah that I tried to make didn't turn out quite as well. Robin's convinced it failed because I didn't compensate for the altitude, but the extra hours and hours that we let it rise probably didn't help either. In any case, all the goyim loved the challah and said it tasted great.

We're making steady progress on the friend front - gradually meeting new people, meeting their friends, and then inviting them all over for food. Little by little, we're living the dream. After inviting 40 people to the late lunch on Sunday though, it might be time to start being a little more discriminating.

Yoga at 9,000 feet

Respira.

Espira.

Twenty-nine abuelitos (literally, little grandparents, a euphemism for elderly people) sit in a circle in the cement-walled room.

Breathe in.

Breathe out.

One abuelo can't stop laughing, this whole yoga thing is surely different from anything he has ever done ("Really? This niña is telling me to breathe?"). Other abuelitos refuse to close their eyes. But most of them are getting the hang of it.

The abuelitos settle into the yoga experience. Of course, I'm no yoga instructor, and my Spanish instructions are not flawless, but I see them relaxing, letting their old muscles succumb to gravity. Then their joints are moving, and they're breathing, and when I tell them to smile they all crack up.

Instructing them to take in as much oxygen as possible seems particularly relevant at this altitude. Though Bogotá's official altitude is 8,661 feet above sea level, we must be at at least 9,000. We're in the barrio Paraíso in Ciudad Bolívar on the southern fringe of Bogotá. I don't use the term "fringe" lightly - this part of the city is filled with desplazados, internally displaced persons. At lunch, one abuelo told me that none of them were born in Bogotá. The economic infrastructure is lacking here, to say the least; most people who live in Ciudad Bolívar commute two hours to get to work, where they're paid 30,000 pesos daily if they're lucky (with today's exchange rate ~$16.67). The bus to get here drove south and climbed up, up, up, fulfilling the stereotype of Latin American cities where the poor live in the south and up in the hills. That bus ride gives the best view we've had so far of this immense city of more than 8 million people.

So, we'll be heading to the end of the Transmilenio line (rapid bus system) and catching an alimentador (feeder bus) every Wednesday to Fundación Social Oasis to do various activities with the abuelitos. If anyone has any recommendations for activities, let me know! We will theoretically also be helping with after-school and English tutoring for the young kids affiliated with the program, but today it was raining and no one showed up. We'll see how that goes.

And no, we don't have jobs yet. I promise to write about that as soon as we have more information. In the meantime, we're very much enjoying our sabbatical, we simply wish the exchange rate were more favorable to the dollar.

For now, we're just breathing it all in.

Love in the Time of Cholera

The title of this post, of course, is also the title of one of Colombia's most well-known products: the novel by Gabriel García Márquez, which Robin is unironically reading in English as I write this post. Time for more stereotypical travel writing: I think I have/had cholera. Average conversation that Robin and I have had over the last 2 weeks:

Jerry (on WebMD): Robin, I think I have cholera.

Robin: What are you talking about? You're being silly. You don't have cholera.

Jerry: Do you want to come to the bathroom with me?

Robin: Fine, fine, you have cholera. Want some tea?

Robin has become so thoroughly Colombian that her solution for all ailments of the stomach is a tea made with fresh hierbabuena (literally: good grass, though we know it as peppermint). Placebo effect or traditional medicine, it still tastes good.

As for the love part of the title, two days ago Robin and I celebrated our one year anniversary. Really, it was the second time we celebrated the anniversary. Two Fridays ago while Evan was still here we celebrated our Jewish calendar anniversary with a wonderful dinner party. Monday was a bit less extravagant. We decided to cook a nice little meal for ourselves: red pepper soup, rhubarb cake, and 40 garlic clove chicken. Robin said that we're probably the only married couple in the world that gorged ourselves on garlic for our anniversary.

A Trip of a Lifetime (guest post by Evan)

Greetings from Colombia to all you loyal Tolombia blog readers out there. It’s Evan, Robin’s older brother (and Jerry’s brother-in-law), writing you with the latest updates of our adventurous family. Please excuse the brief change in literary style!

I arrived the night before Erev Yom Kippur and spent an uneventful time going to the local Chabad synagogue with Robin and Jerry. The next day, we took off by plane to the coastal city of Santa Marta and our 10 day adventure along Colombia’s magnificent coast was underway.

Shortly after touching down in Santa Marta, we hopped a couple of forms of transportation (taxi and then bus) to our first stop, the village of Palomino. When we arrived in Palomino, it was pouring down rain, so we were forced to take a mototaxi. Glad that we arrived safely, we were met with a beautiful beach-side hostel. We spent the next day lounging around, playing cards, opening fresh coconuts, catching mammoth Caribbean waves, cooking lunch over a fire we built ourselves, reading, and walking up and down the palm tree lined beach.

We woke up early on our second morning and caught our first glimpse of the snow-capped Sierra Nevada, the tallest coastal mountain range in the world. Afterwards, we headed further north along the coast to Cabo de la Vela. This day, by far, was the craziest day of transportation in my life - near death by overloaded truck (email for details).

After getting thoroughly drenched at 2a.m. in our outdoor hammocks covered by a “roof,” we awoke to a town unlike any I’d ever been to. This place is desolate! There is no running water, the electricity is scarce and almost all of the buildings/homes are on the verge of collapse (but don’t worry, several people in the town owned Blackberries). We spent the day hiking to a gorgeous beach and lighthouse and the evening eating a succulent lobster dinner. The following morning we were off to Parque Tayrona, the highlight of the trip.

Parque Tayrona is spectacular. In order to reach Cabo de San Juan, the area within the park that we were staying, we had to hike in for 3 hours through deep mud, lots of ants, then along the beach and in light rain. The first “Holy shit!” experience we had was after hiking for about an hour through the jungle, we stepped onto the beach and the view was breathtaking. Tremendous waves crashed onto the sand, which was lined by lush vegetation and ringed by huge, green mountains. Scattered throughout the park are massive granite boulders that make you feel like you’re in Jurassic Park (or that someone tried to airlift Stone Mountain to the Colombian coast and it shattered into a million pieces).

Our hammocks were on a peninsula, about 150 feet higher than the mainland. This area provided a 360 degree view, to witness both sunrise and sunset. Sunrise was amazing, watching the sun come up over the water, with all the colors splashed against the clouds, the snow-capped Sierra Nevada in the background (only visible early in the morning); this place was paradise.

After saying goodbye to Tayrona, we hiked out and spent the day traveling to Cartagena. The closest city I can compare Cartagena to is New Orleans. There is a very touristy old city (similar to the French Quarter) surrounded by many areas that are not that popular for tourists.

We’ve spent the last 4 days relaxing here at Robin and Jerry’s place and exploring Bogotá. On Friday night, the three of us prepared a Shabbat feast for 20 of their new friends (incredible to see how many people they’ve met in such a short time) and much fun was had by all. Last night we went to a restaurant/club/freakshow, Andrés Carne de Res, which was one of the coolest and most unique places I’ve ever eaten at. This is a not-to-be-missed experience when visiting Bogotá.

Alas, all good things must come to an end and tomorrow night I will head back to Tel Aviv. It’s hard for me to believe that I’ve already been here for more than two weeks. I am so grateful to los Tolochkos for sharing their life here in Colombia with me, feeding me (often), and being wonderful hosts. Although I’ve only been here for a little more than two weeks, I’ve definitely got memories that will last a lifetime.

Photos to come soon...

Fotos of our barrio

I should've posted these the other day when I wrote the post about our neighborhood, La Macarena, but whoops! I forgot.

Check out our street

(note the pizzeria on the right):

Here's one of the main streets of La Macarena, just around the corner. On this block you can find our favorite bakery and fruit/veggie store. There's a rivalry pizzeria at the end of the block, but it's not as good (read: cheap) as the one next-door.

Last, but not least, here is something you don't see everyday in the good ol' US of A. Horse-drawn cart going down the middle of one of the main thoroughfares of the city (think: Peachtree Street a la Atlanta or Pennsylvania Avenue a la DC).

Leche de coco

As I've mentioned before, I can't get enough of the cheap, fresh fruits and vegetables in this country. To Jerry's dismay, Colombians don't really go for spicy food. So, he decided to make a green curry paste - completely from scratch. You can buy any ingredient imaginable in Paloquemao, the wholesale market in Bogotá, even lemongrass. But in order to use his fresh curry paste as part of a delicious meal, we needed some coconut milk. Why not make it ourselves?

Step 1: Go to the market, buy coconuts.

We stopped by the plaza de mercado near our house and picked up a couple of coconuts. Remember, coconuts are a pain in the ass to cut open. So we asked the muchacho in the tienda to cut them open for us with his machete, which he did free of charge, of course. Each coconut was about $1 each.

Step 2: Mmmm. Meat.

Take out the meat, the white part, of the coconut. There will be a thin brown layer attached to the white part; that's A-OK. To make it easier to take out the coconut meat, you should score it a few times while it's in the hard outer shell. The knife might bend as you pry out the meat.

Cut these large chunks into smaller pieces, roughly one inch squared. That's not a hard and fast rule, just make sure the pieces are smallish.

Step 3: Washing tons. Of coconut.

Rinse off the coconut pieces.

Step 4: Blend it up.

Fill the blender half-full with water. Put the top on the blender, but leave the center hole open. Turn the blender on with only the water inside. Drop in the coconut, piece by piece as it grinds up and blends with the water. Continue dropping coconut pieces in until the blender is almost full, or until it cannot blend the coconut efficiently.

Step 5: Sieve I care.

Filter the water/coconut concoction through a fine mesh sieve into a pitcher. Most instructions we found online recommended filtering the water/coconut concoction through a clean cloth towel. Turns out we didn't have any clean cloth towels around the house, but a sieve seemed to work out fine.

Step 6: Repeat. Kind of.

You should still have some coconut pieces leftover. Pour the coconut milk you've already made back into the blender until it is half-full. Repeat the process of slowly dropping in coconut chunks. Depending on how much coconut you have, you may repeat this process several times.

Step 7: Sieve again.

Strain the coconut milk concoction again. Now you're ready to go!

Step 8: Make sumpin good.

You can use your coconut milk for all sorts of things - we used ours to make a green curry chicken & veggie dish. We had a little bit leftover and poured it into some homemade pineapple juice. Yum. Check out how happy Jerry is to be cooking with his homemade green curry paste and coconut milk.

Step 9: Eat & Enjoy.

We won't be buying canned coconut milk anymore... at least while we're unemployed and have the time to make it fresh.

La Macarena

When it's not raining at lunchtime, we go up to the terrace of our apartment to eat and get our Vitamin D for the day. Here is Jerry reading his Kindle, as well as a view of the neighborhood from the terraza.

I step out of our apartment and turn left. The smell of delicious pizza penetrates my poor sense of smell, and it takes all the self-control I can muster to not buy una porción every time I walk by. Turning the corner, our favorite bakery is on the left. Every few days, we buy a loaf of braided bread stuffed with cheese. It never lasts more than 24 hours. A couple of times before ultimate frisbee practice, I've bought a flaky pastry filled with bocadillo (guava paste, not to be confused with the Castillian word for sandwich). Keep walking downhill, and you'll see the tienda where we buy any fruits, veggies, or milk that we need at the last minute.

The woman there can't believe I'm over the age of 16, much less married. Yes, even in this country where you can't tell if people are 14 or 40, they still think I have a cara de niña (young girl's face). Here, milk comes in a bag that goes unrefrigerated until you open it, and even then it's optional. We usually make at least one fresh fruit juice every day, for a fraction of the price it would cost in the States. At right, Jerry's enjoying a fresh glass of orange juice while watching the UGA football game this weekend - unfortunately, it was probably the only thing he enjoyed about watching that game. Also, notice our fresh sunflowers - fresh flowers are so cheap in this country!

Keep walking down the hill, past the coffee shop/bookstore, past the butcher, past the Plaza de los Toros (Plaza of the Bulls). Then you reach La Séptima (Seventh Avenue), the lifeline of Bogotá. I almost always buy a mango on the street here, as long as they look sweet. And I don't even need to peel and cut it! Colombians also like to eat green mangoes with lime and salt, but I still prefer the ripe ones. Ok ok, so the mangos come in plastic cups that I then have to throw away because this country doesn't really recycle, but I justify it because it didn't travel thousands of miles to get to my belly. If I'm feeling particularly hungry, I'll buy an arepa. Fried corn flour goodness with cheese.

At this point, I'm usually crossing over to get to the Transmilenio, Bogotá's rapid bus system with designated lanes, or flagging down a colectivo, one of Bogotá's private buses that act as public transportation. The advantage of these buses as private enterprises is that they will cross several lanes of traffic to pick you up. The disadvantage of these buses as private enterprises is that... well, they'll cross several lanes of traffic to pick someone up just to get their 1,300 peso fare and commission (roughly 75 cents). One lesson we've learned one too many times - never take a colectivo during rush hour. It literally took us two hours to travel nine miles home the other day.

We recently discovered a small market just a few blocks from our house. Today, we bought lunch there for $2 each - thick barley soup plus chicken, beans, rice, and plantain. And passionfruit juice to wash it all down. Then bought some fresh produce, including a fruit called feijoa (see left).

I loved the feijoa juice I tried our second day in Bogotá, so I thought, why not try to make it myself? It turned out so terribly, we couldn't finish it. Apparently, you need whole milk and a ton of sugar. So much for that idea.

This is why Colombians rule: Saturday night I go to the corner store to buy a box of rum and Coke. I'm gone for half an hour. Joined in with a bunch of people celebrating some woman's birthday (she was turning 38, looked about 28 or 78, hard to tell), they gave me a couple of shots of tequila, lectured me that I can only drink that rum straight (that's the best rum our country produces! you can't taint it with coca-cola!), and told me to call them if we ever need anything. Also, for the record, the song that Colombians sing for birthdays is literally the "Happy Birthday" song with a Colombian accent. It is absolutely brilliant.

I'll leave you with a picture of our very untraditional Rosh Hashanah dinner of homemade gnocchi. Oh right, Rosh Hashanah was the night we got home late after our two-hour bus ride. And then the power went out. But we managed to buy apples and honey! Also, can't end this post without a shoutout to my nephew, Davis Leon Luxenberg, born on Rosh Hashanah. Mazel Tov, Paula and Harlan! What a great new year.

Travels

Finally back in D.C. (Bogotá D.C. that is), so I figured it was time to fill all y'all in our travels around the country. Because our apartment didn't open up until yesterday, we decided that if we were going to continue paying $20/night for a hostel, we might as well be spending those nights in new and interesting places.

First, we went to a restored Spanish colonial town called Villa de Leiva (see photo on the left) that was supposed to have lots of cool hikes in the area. The first day we went on a h

ike to two waterfalls and the "paso de angel," a 6-inch-wide ridge crossing bordered on either side by very, very, steep cliffs. Sadly, right as we accomplished that crossing, it started raining and thundering. Understandably, we realized that we were standing on a bare ridge in the middle of a thunderstorm and decided to turn back.

Not much more to report on Villa de Leyva, and next we headed to Colombia's coffee region, in search of a cup of coffee that would best Sr. Neuheisel's. Fellow travelers had raved about Jesus Martín's tinto (a small coffee shop in Salento, the backpackers' stop in the Zona Cafetera). It was crap. The owner of the hostel that we stayed at in Salento recently purchased a coffee farm nearby, and we sampled a cup of his coffee. Though better than Jesus Martín's, it still didn't stack up to the coffee produced in ol' 2566. On the coffee plantation, Robin learned where pineapples come from.

In Salento we also went on another beautiful hike to the Valle Cocora, home to some stunning groves of wax palm trees (and wild growing mushrooms - I'll let y'all guess as to which is the main reason for backpackers descending on Salento en masse). The hike was gorgeous and exhausting, though the clouds never did part to let us see the valley in all its splendor.

Although we initially had planned on spending all of our travel time in the coffee region, we decided that we were tired of sticking to the Lonely Planet trail and instead wanted to forge out on our own, taking several long bus trips to Popayán, another beautiful colonial city. 30 km from our hostel are some thermal springs, and the hostel arranged a trip for us to be driven (mostly uphill) through the Andes to the thermals with bikes, so that we could then bike down: Robin's Climate Ride Jr.

From Popayán, we took a 70 km/5 hr. bus ride through the Andes to a small to called San Andrés. Most travelers skip this spot because the ride is long and goes over very crappy roads. It was stunning. Nestled in a small valley, the town is known for the ancient tombs that dot the surrounding ridgelines. Not to be insulting to Colombia's indigenous cultures, after having been to Cappadoccia, these tombs just didn't seem as cool. However, the tombs were just a sideshow to the great hike that takes you up and down the mountains to see all of the different archeological hikes. The last ascent was the toughest, and Robin almost didn't make it, but I carried her up the last 200m.

Next, we decided to visit Tatacoa, Colombia's "desert" (it's not actually a desert - just a really, really dry tropical forest). If you've already been to Bryce Canyon, you aren't missing too much by not having seen the Tatacoa. It's like Bryce, except small, and with Colombians instead of Mormons. The Tatacoa was gorgeous, especially at night, and an amateur astronomer who was a bit too enthusiastic with his Spanish R's pointed out some new constellations to us. However, after one night of sleeping in hammocks and getting devoured by mosquitos, we decided that it was time to head back to Bogotá.

And here we are! This should be the last of our "travel" posts until Evan arrives. Now it's time for us to find a source of income...

Feliz cumpleaños to Jerry

Alright alright, so it was Jerry's birthday more than a week ago. Happy birthday, mi amor! It's been a great week, but I'm paying for internet (no free wifi where we are now) so I'll just sum it up as follows, with more details to come:

- A night out to the local microbrewery + art show with new Colombian friends.
- A night out on the town with our new housemates and lots of French people for Jerry's bday.
- Friday night and Saturday morning services at the local Lubavitch synagogue, where the women talked on their cell phones and the rabbi had to hush the men from chatting during the Torah reading. I wore my tallit while sitting on the balcony Saturday morning and didn't get any grief except for a funny look from the rebbetzin. The rabbi has been really nice to us, but not sure yet what we'll do for the High Holidays. We still have to check out the Conservative synagogue when we get back to Bogota.
- Our first "onces" (pronounced ohn-sehs) with Myriam, my Aunt Sheila's friend from way back. Las onces is the Colombian version of afternoon tea, but with hot chocolate, arepas (DC friends - think Colombian version of a pupusa), bread, and cheese.
- Vacation in Girardot with Luis & his family, including an adorable 20-month old (which made me so excited to be an aunt soon! And no, we're not going to have kids any time soon).
- A few days in Villa de Leyva, just a few hours from Bogota, which included hiking in the middle of nowhere through people's backyards, and getting caught in the rain while it's thundering.
- A couple days back in Bogota, including a visit to Ciudad Bolivar, commonly known as the worst/poorest part of the city. There will be a longer blog post about that.
- And now we're in el Eje Cafetero, the coffee region. The bus ride over here yesterday took 10 hours, most of which we slept, but the hours we were awake had breathtaking scenery. I love the Andes mountains. If you're afraid of heights, don't have a window seat when riding through this area. Imagine the green of the Appalachians plus the jaggedness of the Rockies, but add in palm trees, farms that are practically vertical, and a bus driver that likes to pass big trucks around a switchback.

Also, the main reason you should one day come to Colombia is because they sell cut-up mangoes on every street corner. Plus freshly squeezed orange juice. I'll finally eat something besides Cheerios every morning for breakfast. Oh, and the people are wonderful. We definitely picked the right country.

Traveling now until September 1 when our apartment opens up. Life is grand.

L'auberge Colombienne

Good news, y'all! We found an apartment! Almost everyone we've been talking to here in Bogotá has told us to live in the northern part of the city; east of the Ave. Caracas and at the very least north of Calle 60. These areas are much more affluent, and also contain the more upscale restaurant, shopping, and entertainment strips. One of the owners of the hostel that we're staying at told us to check out the area that he's living in, "La Macarena" (recently spotlighted by the NYT). We walked through the neighborhood a few days ago, and it was beautiful. Lots of small restaurants and cafés, lovely tree-lined streets, less traffic, friendly people, etc., etc. We spent that day calling and visiting apartments, wandering street after street looking at and following up on "For Rent" signs in apartment windows.

That night, I trolled compartoapto.com (the Colombian cragislist equivalent) for apartment listings, and came across an ad for a room in a 4 bedroom apartment in La Macarena. We went and visited the next morning, and we got the room. Renting a room instead of an apartment allows us to avoid the ridiculous situation of having to own in order to rent in Colombia. We would be living with 2 Frenchies, 1 Venezuelan, and 1 TBD, for half the price of the other apartments that we'd looked at. The apartment even has a rooftop deck! Even better, we move in Sept. 1, for now we can go travel around the country for a couple weeks.

In other news, yesterday we also visited with a Catholic Colombian NGO/service-oriented university, UNIMINUTO de Dios. The university works with a number of local Colombian NGOs in underprivileged parts of the city. Next Friday, we're going to work with one of the women who works for UNIMINUTO to visit a project in Ciudad Bolivar, in the southern fringe of Bogotá.

For those of you who have been clamoring for photos, I finally talked Robin into letting me carry our camera around. I'm hoping to visit our neighborhood in the next couple days to take some pictures, which will quickly find their way onto the blog.

Huffing and puffing

We moved to a new hostel yesterday... and by new, I literally mean the hostel hasn't even opened yet (we got to stay here free last night!). One of the partners of the hostel told us last night that he was going to take a walk up one of the mountains overlooking the city in the morning and asked if we wanted to go along. He then informed us that you have to go between 5:00-9:00a.m. Well, since we don't have jobs, there was really no excuse, so we decided to join.

When the alarm went off at 5:00a.m., we almost fell back asleep, but finally convinced ourselves to get out of bed. It was definitely worth it. The hike was not particularly hard, but wasn't particularly easy, either - mainly because we still haven't completely adjusted to the high altitude. But the view from the top was completely worth it, and getting away from the city traffic and noise was really nice. To top it all off, when we got back in the city we bought cups of fresh orange juice from a street vendor for super cheap.

Oh, and did I mention that the tap water here is potable? That's better than I can say for DC!

Long lost family friends

We finally have some stories to report! The last couple days have been wonderful, because we've been able to meet up with some old family friends from both sides of the Tolochko family tree.

About 40 years ago, my Dad did the Peace Corps in Colombia, specifically in a small town called San Bernardo, located a few hours outside of Bogotá. A twelve-year-old kid named Luís Gomez worked for my Dad, taking care of his horses, delivering messages, etc. Luís didn't have much of a family, and my Dad was a father figure for him. Today, Luís lives in Bogotá with his three daughters and two grandsons. On Saturday night, Luís' three daughters and their cousin came to our hostel (1.5 hours late, we're still adjusting to 'Colombia time'), and we went out for drinks. Sandra Patricia, the oldest, is 31, Marcela is 30, and Diania is 27. They were so excited to see us, as they had heard so many stories about 'Patricio' from their father, and they asked me all sorts of questions about my brothers and my parents.

Later in the night, Marcela disappeared, and came back with her father, who had just gotten off work. When he saw us he was so happy, repeatedly hugging Robin and I. It was really funny talking with Luís, because he speaks Spanish the exact same way as my Dad (though clearly he's a bit more fluent). They all asked us when Dad's going to come visit. After the bar, they drove us up into the mountains that border Bogotá to the East. Tons of people were parked by the side of the road, drinking Canelazo (with our without aguardiente), and enjoying the beautiful view of Bogotá.

On Sunday, we ate lunch with Inés María, who was an exchange student at the Wertheim house in Glenn Cove, NY some time ago. Evan tracked her down on Facebook, and she was thrilled to be able to meet us. Inés' daughter and her boyfriend joined us for lunch; we told them our life stories, and they told us theirs in return. Our Spanish still has a long way to go, but these sorts of small, intimate conversations are the best way to improve.

Today we switched hostels to a cheaper, quieter, hostel in a better part of the city. Hopefully that brings us one step closer to finding an apartment...

5 de agosto 2010

It was 65 degrees, partly cloudy with a nice breeze when we arrived in Bogotá today. I'm sure when the rainy season comes I'll miss this, so I'm going to soak it in. Oh, and I love love love living next to the mountains.

We didn't sleep at all last night so the afternoon was one big siesta. It's nice to know that we'll be here for a while, there's no guilt in sleeping the day away. But we woke up in time to wander around and not find a (cheap) place to eat dinner - apparently the neighborhood we're in (La Candelaria) is a university and business area, so restaurants aren't open at night. It doesn't matter - it felt great to walk around, there were tons of people in the street. I'm already excited about speaking Spanish. Someone thought I was from Argentina today! (ok ok, he was Brazilian so he couldn't exactly know that I talk like a gringa)

No exciting stories yet, but just you wait!