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...