New guest blog post!

Hey y'all,

Sorry for the recent lack of blog posts. You know, what with work and cooking, we've just been lazy and haven't written in a while. Recently, we've had tons of visitors. Vicki (AIS high school friend) came the other week, my Dad was here for a week and a half, and William and Megan (DC friends) get here on Saturday for a few days.

Now, onto Patricio's post:

This is an acccount of my visit to Colombia 2/7-16/2011 after 40 years out of the country.

2/8/11 Jerry, Robin and I took a taxi to Fontibon, a distant suburb of Bogota to visit Luis Gomez and his family. Luis was my muchacho in San Bernardo, a small town in the Andes mountains of Colombia, for two years during a Peace Corps volunteer stint doing rural community development. Luis and I have somehow kept in contact despite (ed. by letter!) many address changes. The taxi dropped us off in front of a steel gate which would look imposing at San Quentin. The neighborhood of Fontibon is full of warehouses and factories. All the family was there (wife, 3 daughters, son-in-law, 2 grandsons, dog) ---- except for Luis! He works until 10 pm collecting lottery ticket sales money from his agents who sell them on the streets. So when he walked in the condominium it was a big surprise. His story is that of many who find their fortunes in Bogota. He left San Bernardo as a teenager and scrimped, saved, and worked very hard to achieve success. His many jobs include: muchacho for a Peace Corps volunteer, car repair specialist, factory worker, lottery ticket seller, taxi cab driver etc. His wife ran a small grocery store until a recent illness, and his daughters work in insurance, medical care, and business administration. We talked about the good and bad times; exchanged gifts and started planning the weekend at his small house in Girardot.

2/9/11 Jerry, Robin and I took a taxi to the Terminal where we boarded a bus to Fusa, the center of the Sumapaz region of Cundinamarca, a state which surrounds Bogota. It was raining, which is very appropriate for a 3 hour bus ride to San Bernardo. It is always fun to remember the land slides (derrumbes), huecos, jerks, stops, and delays that seem to always accompany a bus ride in rural Colombia. The preparation for this trip is minimal because please tell me how one prepares when faced with these comments from informed sources in Bogota:

"A military guy was made mayor last year after the civilian mayor was shot." This was later found to be false.

"The ELN or FARC or M19 or ParaMilitares, which are basically terrorist groups masquerading like patriots, are a problem and one never knows." This is true.

My interpretation is that these terrorists got their start with funding from USSR and Cuba. When this source of money ran out, they resorted to violence, kidnapping, (ed. the drug trade?) etc.

"Patricio, you should only go during the daytime and do not let anyone know who you are." This is true.

"Patricio, Uribe and the military are very serious about control and so increased their presence in San Bernardo and the Sumapaz region (battallion size now vs. one seargent and a corporal in 1970). This is true.

My favorite saying came from Sargento Joaquin Pineiros, who was the military mayor of San Bernardo in 1968: "La mano fuerte is que manda." This means that the Strong Hand runs the Show. This is true in rural Colombia.

"Patricio, you should only travel by bus; don't travel in a private taxi or car. You know that the bandidos target private cars and taxis because only the rich can afford them." This is an exaggeration.

Life in Bogota shows 21st Century improvements, such as:

the water is clear, not brown;

the tap water can be drunk without boiling;

soldiers and policemen carry nightsticks, not AK47's;

school children walk unaccompanied;

shops are open late;

electricity works 24/7

...so the daily routine is almost boring!

So now back to the bus trip to San Bernardo>>>

For those willing to brave the trip, the Terminal is located at Carrera 69 and Calle 26. The Terminal shows that Colombia really does care about its lower classes. The Terminal is clean, large, well equipped and SECURE. The old Terminal at Carrera 13 and Calle 14 was an accident waiting to happen. My clearest memory of the old Terminal is a tank parked outside with 20 armed soldiers carrying guns with the safety switches in the OFF position. Access to the new Terminal is terrible; but then Bogota tends to be one big parking lot anyway.

The Auto Fusa bus to San Bernardo is another Big Improvement. This is a modern "Greyhound Quality" bus with big windows, cushioned seats, curtains, heat, A/C etc. I no longer long for the Blue Bird school buses with springs which bounced the bus so badly that plastic bags were passed out regularly to sickened pasengers! The "ayudante" no longer carries a knife and gun.

Bus rides like ours to San Bernardo are a Work in Progress. The bus leaves the Terminal with 6 passengers and later picks up 10 or more passengers on the street and highway. Of course there are signs everywhere that this informal pickup is forbidden by Ley No. 123456XXX.

The ride down the mountainside to Fusa from Bogota is uneventful because the curves and steep hills have been eliminated with the new road. The old road through San Angel followed the trail of the Chibcha indians and the Spanish conquistadores. It went down another mountainside and was always challenging. This was especially the case when the overloaded bus was trying to beat out the bus just ahead.

The ride to San Bernardo was a ride down memory lane as we passed the familiar spots:

Cucharal neighborhood where we found a good swimming hole; built an aqueduct; recruited a bright student for the Universidad Nacional; and saved an orphan from starvation.

Hotel Manila where we could bask in luxury for one night is now a growing suburban neighborhood.

La Estacion Bolivariano where we tried to catch the next bus and where the gamines would carry any load in their wagons for a price is now replaced by a modern bus station.

La Estacion Shell where the road turns off to Arvelaez and San Bernardo is now a Esso station; but the name never changed. Congratulations to the Shell Oil marketing department.

El Castillo where Alva Mendoza introduced me to the idea of owning 2,000 acres and employing 200 campesinos (peasants) is now a massive real estate development. Yes, there are unsold lots just waiting for you!

Arvelaez is still dominated by the weekend retreats of the rich.

San Bernardo entrance is announced by a huge stone inscribed with the words "Las Leyes hacen La Paz". (The Laws make The Peace.)

San Bernardo's road is unpaved and rough compared to the paved road of Arvelaez. (The rich landowners have more pull than San Bernardo.)

San Bernardo's church still has a huge cross but now the Colombian flags wave from the top of the cross. (The Church has ceded some control to the State.)

San Bernardo's plaza is nicely landscaped; its main streets are paved; its water is clean and plentiful; and, most important, its security is assured.

The country side of Colombia looks very much the same as it did when I was a Peace Corps volunteer (Rural Development 1968 to 1970) in San Bernardo, Cundinamarca. Its unofficial name as a region is Sumapaz which means the "High Peace". Well, the High Peace came at a high price. One only has to count the number of murders in the Sumapaz region from 1948 to 1950 called the "Violencia" and from 1980 to 2000 called the Terrorismo to see the price.

The fences, sugar cane fields, coffee plants, platano, etc. have the same look. The land holdings in San Bernardo are still small; the poeple live off the land for food and live off part time jobs and cash crops for imported items (clothing, tools, appliances).

The violence of the past is gone and replaced by a positive vision of the future. Colombia is proud of itself and does not place blame on others. This is their strength as a people.

We arrived in San Bernardo for a delicious lunch in a white tablecloth restaurant. The wall decorations were very eclectic and a creative mix of cultures. For example, a Sacred Heart of Jesus picture was mounted next to a Taj Mahal picture. I will leave it to the anthropologists to explain that one! The delicious lunch was mostly locally grown and raised in the San Bernardo region. For example, hot climate items such as sugar cane, pineapple, mangos all are produced in the lower altitude regions of San Bernardo. The temperate climate items such as coffee, green beans, and platano are produced at a high altitude. And cabbage, potatoes and beats are produced in the cold regions referred to as "paramo". The only "imported" food items were rice (grown in the flat plains of Colombia called llanos) and Coca Cola (produced locally but the syrup and brand name are imported).

My hobby during my time in San Bernardo was horses. I liked to ride into the campo which allowed a better view and a faster trip. I owned various horses. One was a galopero called Kentucky. The name came from a previous Peace Corps volunteer, Richard Wilson. (Richard: If you are reading this, then remember that many people in San Bernardo still remember you.) Kentucky was a good horse to ride on roads but struggled to go up and down mountain sides. Tango was my favorite for many reasons. Tango was trained as a pasofino and so had a smooth gait. Tango also was very excitable. This meant that sometimes his head had to be covered by a poncho while mounting him. Of course, the people loved to watch the crazy gringo mount his horse with a a poncho over the head of the horse. But once mounted, Tango would go for hours up and down mountainsides.

We then strolled down memory lane a bit more as we went down the street where I rented a four bedroom apartment from Don Gutierrez, a local landowner. He cut me a pretty good deal because I made improvements. But he complained that the inspired art work of paintings on the wall was more than he or the next tenant could take. By this time, the paintings have been covered over but some curious anthropologist will find them in 500 years and have a hell of a time explaining their source! This locale was excellent for meetings, parties, and informal charlas. It became a bigger attraction when a bar was started up in the street front. The music and talk into the middle of the night allowed me to learn a lot of Spanish and local culture.

Jerry and Robin made the trip all the better because someone was forced to listen to all the crazy stories of life in San Bernardo. After viewing the apartment of Don Gutierrez we strolled out to Guatemala, a neighborhood on the poor side of town. I chose to rent a old house made of adobe from Don Manuel Vicente Acosta so that I could get closer to the people. Closer meant allowing little curious kids to wander in and out. I allowed them to pickup the birth control leaflets and other educational materials and take them home. This is called dissemination of information in the textbooks!

The people who walked by look you in the eyes and say Buenos Dias. The greeting of one another is very important. If there is no greeting and the eyes are fixed to the ground, then this is a sign of discord or worse. So we said hello to a number of people, including Don Jorge.

Don Jorge owns a house in the Guatemala neighborhood; and, we later discovered, is married to a relative of Don Manuel Vicente Acosta. He said hello and I asked him about Don Manuel. I found out that Don Manuel had passed away about 13 years ago. Don Jorge was slow in talking so I said goodbye.

We walked on the the horse pasture (potrero) where I kept my two horses. The pasture was owned by the local government of San Bernardo (municipio) and was rented to me at a good price...zero, nada, $0. This was a typical Colombian deal (negocio). I was helpful to San Bernardo; drank coffee with the local leaders; and showed respect to Sargento Pineros, the mayor appointed by the Colombian Army. So long as I kept my side of the bargain, then San Bernardo cooperated.

The improvements to the municipal horse pasture were very interesting. A 2,000 sft brick building was built to process vegetables and fruit. But is closed due to lack of management. This could be converted to a horse barn for training and birthing of horses. The horse pasture is now overgrown with weeds. In my time the horse pasture was cleaned by a friendly campesino on a weekly basis. I paid him 20 pesos per month for the cleaning (rozar) and for feeding my horses sugar cane and hay (pasto imperial).

The adobe barn where I stored supplies was burned down last month. The explanations for this burning differed widely. This is the fascinating part of talking with many people in the same neigborhood. Don Jorge said it was because of unpaid rent. Another person said that it was because of bad wiring. (In Colombia there is a lot of "stolen" electricity.) In any case, the foundation of the adobe barn is still there and could be used for another purpose (bathhouse).

The old aqueduct is still there but the water is now redirected to the main water supply to San Bernardo. This is a major improvement and allows for good, clean water.

We continued walking back and found Don Jorge still standing by the road. He commented that the son of Don Manuel lived next door. So we met Don Nestor Acosta who is a good contact. He invited us into his house; offered us coffee (tinto); and was very excited to reintroduce the gringos to the entire family.

He still remembered the crazy gringos who came to stay in San Bernardo. The stories (cuentos) could go on for days or even years! Through Don Nestor we were introduced to all his extended family in San Bernardo and Bogota. This made our trip very interesting.

Nestor and his career are very typical of young, energetic Colombians. He left home at 15; worked various jobs in Bogota; went to the USA; drove trucks (tractomulas) all over the States; returned to Colombia; studied dentistry; has a good dentistry practice in San Bernardo; raises and trains horses; and is a great talker. His wife and son are there by his side always offering encouragement.

Nestor invited us into his house for tinto and proceeded to update all of us on EVERYTHING. He did all of this while making a set of false teeth, answering the cell phone calls, and greeting the people walking by. His energy and enthusiasm were contagious.

Nothing would do but that Nestor take us to see his mother, sisters, aunts and cousins who all live nearby. The scene with his mother who had not set eyes on me for over 30 years was incredible! Of course, she gave us more tinto and pan de sagu, which is a delicious bread made from sagu a special plant which grows only in San Bernardo climates.

Time now was runnning short to catch the last bus to Bogota. Nestor drove quickly to catch the last bus back to Bogota just as it was leaving San Bernardo. This was a wonderful, memorable visit. The coincidental meeting of Don Jorge on the Guatemala trail led to many other wonderful experiences.

Dad ran out of time to finish the complete account of his time in Colombia. I'm sure maybe only 10% of the people will actually read through the whole thing to read my comments... I'll post pictures soon. Enjoy!

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?