Sociedad conformista

It was 1:00am at a rest stop on the way back to Bogotá from Ibagué. I had gone to an Ultimate Frisbee tournament in tierra caliente (Bogotanos' term for places in Colombia with lower elevations, thus the climate is warmer than Bogotá), and of course on the way back to Bogotá our bus breaks down. This being the same bus that broke down on the way to Ibagué and apparently still had the same problem. Anyway, that is all irrelevant.

The point is, I'm sitting here at this bus stop talking with a few of my teammates about my frustrations in cultural differences. And they're the ones to point out that Colombia is a conformist society. I had never put my finger on that label, but it makes so much sense. Let me elaborate with some examples.

Ejemplo #1: I was talking with Joaquín, our now landlord, about how f***ing stupid the woman at the real estate company was/is, and how they have been awful to deal with. Joaquín responds by saying that all of the real estate companies are like that, they're terribly stupid and conchudo (shameless in taking advantage of people). Yet he still works with one, because that's simply how things are done in Colombia. He would never think to do things differently because that's simply how it's done.

Ejemplo #2: We finally open the bank account in Colombia that's used as collateral on the apartment so Jerry and I can't just flee the country without paying our rent. We bring all of the paperwork from the bank to the insurance company that is insuring our apartment. We have just paid this insurance company to perform this service for us. Then the woman refuses to make photocopies for us of the paperwork, as they need the originals. She says, "No my boss says I can't copy FOUR SHEETS OF PAPER." Are you effing kidding me? Please, think for yourself.

Ejemplo #3: We're doing the inventory of the apartment with a representative from the real estate company the day we move in. She says, I have to write everything down that's in the apartment. So she writes down that there's a roll of packaging tape. And a sponge. When I say, that's ridiculous, obviously the landlord left this stuff here without expecting to get it back, she replies that she's just following directions and that she was told to write everything down. I finally convince her it's ridiculous.

Granted, all of these examples come from our experience with moving into the apartment, but that's just because it's what's recent and on my mind. Of course, it's not good to make sweeping generalizations of a society or a country, but this is definitely an attribute that I have noticed over time. It's also an aspect of the society that I love to challenge, being a person who constantly questions what society sees as "proper" or "correct" (see: moving to Colombia, living in group living situations while married, etc.).

Then again, this is why I came to Colombia, to live in a different culture, to study my own cultural and personal norms, to challenge myself.

The Penthouse

Almost two months after visiting this apartment for the first time, we finally moved in last Tuesday. After our first visit, we assumed there was no way we would be able to rent this place: after all, to sign a lease in Colombia, you usually need a Colombian co-signer who owns real estate in Colombia. We awkwardly reached out to a few people who might be able to help us, to no avail. Thus began the extended back-and-forth with TuTecho, the real estate company and legal representative of Joaquín, our now landlord. They informed us that we could legally rent the apartment as foreigners if we opened up a special bank account in Colombia called a CDT and deposited eight months rent in it (we negotiated them down to six). This serves as insurance on the apartment so that we can't just up and leave the country without paying our rent. I'm sure Jerry will be telling the story for quite some time about what it was like to withdraw six months rent from an ATM in order to deposit it all, in cash, at the bank (turns out that was the way to get the best exchange rate, rather than transferring the money electronically). Oh, and don't worry, we'll get all the money back at the end, plus 3.9% interest.

Anyway, after many frustrations with the

real estate company, cultural differences, and incompetent people, we finally opened the insurance bank account, signed an agreeable contract, and got the keys to our new place. It was totally worth the wait. Here's my view right now:

Also, check out our huge kitchen:

Here's the kitchen counter, dining room table, and living room.

Perfect for dinner parties. Oh, did I mention that this place is completely furnished, including a fully-stocked kitchen with a full-size fridge (a rare commodity in Colombia), beds with sheets, leather couches, and much more? Check out the natural light, the open spaces, and the balcony off the living room. There's a skylight over our shower, and a full terrace off of our bedroom. We're sharing the place with two great roommates. What's that you say? You want to come see for yourself?

Back in Bogotá!

Well, after a wonderful week-and-a-half in the United States, we're finally back in sunny Bogotá. It was wonderful to meet our new nephew and see many of our friends and loved ones, but it's exciting to finally start the new year.

Right now, we're staying in our friend Diego's apartment. He was kind enough to let us crash in his guest bedroom while we're waiting to sign the contract for the new apartment and move in. Things are looking up - we spoke with the landlord via email today, and if we understood him correctly, he's going to make our lives easier and not force us to open a CDT (complicated and expensive). Hopefully we can start cooking up delicious food this week!

Still waiting to hear back from the English institute to learn how soon we can start teaching/making some money. Again, hopefully that will also start this week...

Lastly, we're working to get our GIS business off the ground, and once everyone goes back to work on Tuesday after a long weekend, we'll start hustling again.

Go Falcons.

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.