REALES TAMARINDOS- a really bad trip

read THE FOLLOWING entry FIRST I entered the terminal and found my bus. It was funny, the office for my bus line was just a hole in the wall compared to the rest of the companies. Oh, well, only an 8 hour trip. I can do anything for 8 hours. I walk trying to find an internet access point to post the previous story, in doing so I run into a tsssker who ends up following me wanting to talk. Ok, how do I get rid of him? He asks me questions, I answer. I make my way to the burgers at the entrance, that weren’t that appealing, but surely would grant me solid sleep on the bus and hopefully get this guy out of my site for the next 30 minutes. Nope. He comes in too. I get my food, he follows me to my table, stands next to me, and continues to ask questions and talk. Finally, trying to be nice, I tell him to sit down and not be such a dork. (the second half in English) I scarf down my burger fast so I can wait outside without his company for my bus. Meanwhile Christian, the dork, is writing down all of his information for me; his country, province, city, barrio, address, home phone, & 2 cell phone numbers. Once complete he goes over each individual piece of information with me- and ultimately asks me to come back in 2 weeks when he finishes his work and to stay with him and his family for a week. I’ve found at this point that being truthful with the guy is much less effective than telling them what they want to hear. Things such as “so, will I see you later?” “you’ll call me and we can go out tonite?” “oh, you don’t have a phone, do you want my number?” when answered truthfully all result in bad feelings and explanations that I don’t feel like giving or aren’t necessary. Whereas if I just go along with it, it’s clean cut and I’m outta there, leaving them with a smile on their face-never to see them again. (hopefully) I can’t find my bus, it’s not there. I have a bad feeling about this for some reason. Other lines drivers look at my ticket and ask me why I chose the ugly line and ask me if I want to switch. I go for it. My bus pulls in, I take a look and decide I definitely have to change. Can’t. OF COURSE I CAN’T- I’M IN ECUADOR!!!! I could pay again- a whole $8- but none of the bums wanted my ticket to go to a beach town. I stayed with Reales Tamarindo. There were 60 seats covered with maroon plastic, 7 seats were taken. There was no reclining feature. No baggage storage under the seats, only up top. I spot that the back seat is open…YESSS! I sprawl out, guarding my laptop, backpack, and new Ecuadorian purse with my socked feet. My shoes are above me, drying. Ok, this may not be so bad after all, I have plenty of room—UH, here we go. Wow, this bus is super loud, oh! and bumpy! It’s probably just the parking lot. 5 minutes later my shoes fall on my head, my stomach is in a bunch. I have to move to the front. It’s cold, and not the air conditioning kind of cold, rather a cold from the night. A cold that only happens when the windows slide open by themselves because the ride is so rough. I pack myself into the 2 seater spot and jam all my stuff against the window so that I am resting against it, put on all my layers of clothes and cover my face with another sweater. Just about in la-la-land I get a tap on my knee to see my ticket. “Buddy, why did you wait an hour to collect the tickets?” Is everything ok? he asks. “No, it’s horrible- the regaeton on the radio is super loud and its midnight (to keep the bus driver awake), its freezing, uncomfortable, and theres no bathroom! No, I’m not ok.” Careless, he continues to the last person. I can’t fall asleep, I feel crappy. My stomach is doing flips because the bus has no shocks. Finally, we stop. Oh my gosh, YESSS! I run to the bathroom at the gas station and puke out the burger I ate hours before, ISH. Washing my face, I hear the roar of the bus starting back up. I get outside…the bus is gone. Well, maybe I just can’t see it, I don’t have my glasses on. I run over to the 3 people sitting outside- where is the bus? It didn’t leave, did it? It left. I’m tired, sick, sightless, and unable to say as much as I want to say. All I can do it get my point across- I am traveling for a year and ALL of my things are on that bus- my money, passport, camera, computer, bank card, glasses, contacts, EVERYTHING. “Aaaaye mi amor!” says one of the girls. They talk between themselves while I am contemplating what has just happened to me. I cloudily overhear, “we can call the busline… but even so, someone will have taken her things by then” Within minutes one of them runs over to me and tells me that I have a ride. A ride to where? I ask. He brings me to a truck with who knows what in the back and 3 guys in the cabin. Here, these guys will take you… are you kidding me? TAKE ME WHERE? I look at Maribel, the girl who I most trust out of the 3 gas station sitters, what should I do, I ask? She shrugs. Is it dangerous to go with these random guys? They are ready to go and I stop them, I’ll go. Maribel runs inside to give me her phone number, $5 and reminds me that my bus line is Reales Tamarindos, bus number #24. That’s all I had, $5 and a bus number. What in the world was I going to do? I had everything on that bus. I still don’t know where these guys are going to take me, but I have a funny sort of trust with them- that they are good people. The truck is slower than I’d like, but within 15 or 20 minutes we pull up to a bus terminal, one of the guys says, I think you’re in luck. Really? I hadn’t any hope that my bus was there, they just stopped 20 minutes earlier. He went in and came back to get me. I followed and started telling a new guy at the station that ALL of my things were on that bus. He very calmly asks me if I need to use the bathroom. NO! I want to be on my bus! He leads me outside. I recognize one of the guys, sort of, I have to squint. He points to the bus. I look at him with angst, and slowly get on. I recognize the family at the front, oh my gosh! this is my bus!!!! Bit by bit I make my way to my seat- it’s all there, I can’t believe it. Until now I had been calm, but upon sitting down, my tears just flow and I am sobbing. Ok, so that’s over, but I still feel crappy- I do need to use the bathroom. I tell both drivers, hey wait for me, I won’t be more than 2 minutes- just like the last place, idiots. They wait. And we’re off… I hated that bus, but was SO happy to be back on it. I curled myself into a ball in my tiny little space, but got really hot fast. I was taking my layers off. For some reason the assistant guy came around and asked me if I was ok, I said that I was surely going to throw up because of this stupid bus. He brought me a small plastic bag and instantly I used it, wiping my mouth with the wet sox I had been wearing all day. I littered again and again that night. I wasn’t about to keep them neat and tidy inside. Finally I went up to the front. “Guys, I need a bathroom.” They looked at me funny. “como se dice, my ass is going to explode en espanol?” They stopped, of course they stopped, they left me behind for goodness sake! At 4 in the morning the guards are sleeping though, so stop #1 was a no-go. I had half a mind to do my duty behind a building, but they hurried me along to the next place. Minutes later, they stopped in the middle of road and told me there was no place. No problem, I left my mark in the middle of the road. Around 530am the bus started stopping every few minutes to pick up school children and workers that were going the same way. About 630 the guy came back to tell me that we were almost in Manta. I got my shoes on and started drinking water because I was SO dehydrated. I knew I’d be sick again, but thought if we were almost there, it didn’t matter- I’d have a toilet soon. Certainly he was premature in telling me that, because we didn’t arrive until 2 hours later. We stopped and picked up EVERYONE on the road, soon the isle was packed full of people and even I was sharing my 2 seat space in the front. I read the signs posted: NO SMOKING, NO PUFFING, NO LOUD RADIO. The lady next to me lit one up. Are you kidding me? I looked her in the eye and wanted to puke all over her fancy shmancy crappy shoes. I hated her. One after another came in smelling of overdone perfume and B.O, the guy next to me was spitting on the floor. Obviously these people had no idea what they were doing to me. Finally, FINALLY we arrived to the Manta terminal- one helpful gentlemen took my big suitcase without prior warning and lifted it above his head onto his shoulder- are you kidding me? wow. I told him to follow me, I had to find out about my on-going ticket and get some fresh melon juice. I again knew what this would do, but just didn’t care at this point. So Mr. Strong and myself walked around the bus station with all of my things (YEAH! all of my things!) and finally got to a hotel by the beach that was cheap. I wasn’t planning on staying the night in Manta, but I was in fact going to get a hotel where I could sleep for some hours before I went to the beach. I was in shambles. A few hours passed of me clutching my stomach and ending the sick process and I decided that I needed to take something that would make me feel better. I didn’t know what that was yet, but I had to find it and quick. I exited the hotel and the first guy that passed by was selling small cups of cola from a 3 liter- perfect. I got myself some club social crackers and made it far enough to see the water, which is only a block away, but after 30 minutes of being out, I needed to be back in the bed at the Boulevard Hotel. I got word that I shouldn’t arrive to Guayaquil until late Friday afternoon, so after sleeping the fabulous day away Thursday, it works out that I will get to enjoy Manta’s beach on Friday afterall. Looking back, I can say without a doubt that last night tops off even my night train, food poisoning incident in Ukraine last year. It was in fact my worst night ever, but thank God its over.

THE FOLLOWING

---wrote to be read on Wednesday, oops. Reigning queen of Quito here to tell you all about the city I have taken over for the day. My city of Quito is a great place. I arrived here yesterday after a 29 hour trip through some phenomenal mountain views. I had my camera ready, but just couldn’t capture what it was I was seeing. I just had to take it in. I will remember it always, but those breath-taking sights are not meant to be captured, they are intended to be held as fabulous memories of a spectacular place. A picture couldn’t do justice to the deep cutting valleys that are sandwiched between the massive peaks, the tiny rivers running through it, the humble abodes roadside that always have someone outside- washing clothes, selling fruits/baskets/anything they can, relaxed on a chair or hammock, kids playing, single animals roped to a stake next to the home; people riding their cargo loaded horses and burros down the mountain right next to the semis and buses on the road. It was awesome. And the rest of my ride was pretty o.k. too, I had 2 seats to sprawl out on and sleep, even though I have been pulling my legs into shape and straightening out my back all day. Once in Ipiales, a Colombian border city, I took another bus about 10 minutes to the border- did my stamping magic of exiting and entering, got all my luggage searched- and then hopped another bus that would take me to the bus station in Tulcan, the border town in Ecuador. Tulcan I took yet another bus 5 more hours to Quito!!!! Yeah Quito!!!! Finally, 4 buses later and I’m here! I had an excellent dinner my first night here that I shared with a bum as long as I could, now knowing why they kick the bums out. He sat down right across from me as soon as I offered my soup, but then he started spitting stuff onto the floor. I’m not the cleanest eater either, but I would at least use my fingers to pull it out of my mouth before throwing it on the floor- but seeing his fingers I know why he didn’t use them in the process. I hurried to eat as much as I could before he finished his soup. I knew I wouldn’t finish my whole plate and didn’t think he would stick around to watch if I would- sure enough, immediately after he finished the owner quickly escorted him out. I told him to wait, but he wasn’t allowed to stay. It wasn’t Mondongo, but it was hot soup on a chilly Quito night. I stayed in the Chicago Hostal, a perfect little place right in the heart of the city. Only after checking in I found out that an AIESECer had a place for me to stay a bit farther out in the city. I guess that’s the price I pay for not contacting the AIESECers in a timely fashion, what can I say? I’m a bit lazy sometimes. This morning started out fantastic as I enjoyed a great breakfast on the terrace overlooking the city, with the basilica at eye level. I then went to the center of the world. Yes, I said the CENTER of the WORLD, where latitude is 0,0,0 and the equator meets the prime meridian. It was a pretty nice day, but it’s gets quite windy in the middle of this planet, that’s for sure. Upon arriving back to Quito, I was going to parade around the city and see everything I could in my remaining 7 hours here… but it rained on my parade- all day long. The basilica~what a great idea! …or not. The people there were not tourists, they were crazy, pushy locals with aggresive arms that got them through the sea of other combating Ecuadotorianos. I didn’t see what the hurry was- and I could see over everyone’s head, once I got in all I could do was ask forgiveness for what I was thinking about these people. I was in and out in less than 3 minutes time, it’s all I could handle. On the other hand, I had a typical Ecuadotorian meal just outside the pushy event complete with a orange pop, hot dog, French fries, a super thin hamburger, a bit of cole slaw, and fried egg all which was covered with watery mayonnaise and ketchup. I don’t think this meal will go on my future menu, but it was a cultural eating experience where no other tourists would show their face all for $1.25. The locals got a kick out of me and made it a point to come over to my corner of the 10x10 ft restaurant to borrow my sauces or just to say hello- in English. Which brings me to something that’s been bothering me as of lately. It didn’t used to bother me, but now… well, now it’s starting to really bug me. Ex #1- a museum in Bogota- I was the only one in the gallery at the moment, the guard started speaking with me about art. I conversated with him for more than 10 minutes with no problem, when he asked if I was an art student. I told him I was just visiting from the States and all of a sudden he couldn’t understand anything I was saying anymore. Ex #2-another museum in Bogota- I was about to purchase a ticket when I asked if there was a price for students, because, hey- I have a student card. Of course, the man replies and quotes me a price that’s ½ as much as the regular price. I was ecstatic that it worked and then foolishly asked if my international student card would work (no doubt it would) and then he asked where I was from. I told him and all of a sudden there was no student discount. It was “only for groups.” I went in anyway only to wipe my dirty feet on every chair that I could. Ex #3-a bus from the center of the world back into Quito- I asked a man which bus to take to get to the center of the city. He not only told me how to get there, but accompanied me and told me what else I should see and the history behind it. Not bad, right? Well, I asked one simple question about a word I didn’t know and he repeated the entire schpeel in broken English. I answered him in Spanish and he continued in English. Ex #4- on a street corner asking directions to the basilica---in the rain. Senora, please- where is the basilica? She only looked at me blankly and told me she didn’t understand. I asked again… the cathedral? basilica? church? She didn’t get it, then 5 strangers who overheard my question popped in to tell me exactly how to get there, and that I was close. Ex #5- on another bus-a man approaches me; we talk for a while. He tells me I have good Spanish. I laugh. You mean my present tense only Spanish? Thanks buddy. You’re very kind. He gives me his number. I’ll add it to the rest of the little pieces of paper I hold so close to my heart. Ex #6- walking down the street in Quito- a 80 year old guy gives me eyes, the next one 20 steps along says “hello” (in English), 5 minutes later I get a “hi” from another guy not my age. All of this is well and good, but sometimes gets frustrating. I think its cause I’m losing my color and I just don’t blend in here in Ecuador- not at all. People here are shorter than I have encountered and have a definite look to them. Some sort of mountain/indigenous/Indian look. I even had a dream last night about my youngest niece, Clare, having an Ecuatorian nose… which may be true for all I know. Babies grow fast. Anyway…if you can understand me for the first 5 minutes why turn off your understanding button when I tell you where I’m from? And why do answers/prices change when I tell you where I’m from? If I ask you a question in Spanish- why do you reply to me in English? I’m trying to learn here people- inquiring about one word doesn’t mean I don’t understand everything. Throwing out lines in English is not going to impress me- I don’t want to hear it. Sure, I’ll help you practice your English if set up an appointment- but for now I’m traveling in South America- for goodness sake, HELP ME learn your language. Guillermina- I know, I know- doesn’t sound like me, right? Well, I’m a new woman, I really AM trying to learn… and whisper only when speaking English J Now, in a few hours- not long enough for my soaking wet shoes to dry- I will head to the bus station for a night ride to Manta. Ahhhh… Manta, how I dream of your warm, sunny beaches and hot sand under my toes. I shall swim in your waters all day tomorrow, hoping to darken my skin at least 3 shades.

COLOMBIA--- my drug of choice is...

Coffee. Maybe because “café” is always café con leche and not the straight mud which my Mom drinks… but I’m not making excuses for myself. I drank it. I actually sought it out. Some days I had 2 cups. Friday I bought a small bag of beans covered with chocolate. It said 12 units on the box, so I thought- no problem, I can’t get too wired off of 12 chocolate covered beans. Well, there had to be more than 60 or 70 of those little buggers because by the time I ran into Meow Man I was jumping out of my skin. I guess the 12 units was how many individual bags were in the box. Oops. (I’m looking for them everywhere now)
Summing up Colombia (it’s with an O!)…it is truly a country of extremes. Extreme weather for one- unbearable heat concentrated on the coast, namely Barranquilla, Cartagena, and Santa Marta; and then there’s brrrrrrr Bogota, which I am surprised and thrilled that I didn’t get sick after a week with sniffling Paola. Security is another- sometimes taxi drivers will back up into oncoming traffic (namely fast buses), in some areas it is awfully dangerous with guerrilla lurking and keeping everyone in fear-taking over cities and throwing families into the street… and other areas it couldn’t be safer- with security guards everywhere, and I mean EVERYWHERE, friendly, peaceful commoners that would do almost anything for you and drivers for the most part are super cautious. Food is the 3rd extreme which I will name. It can be incredibly bland or super duper picante. Also some streets you will find only native food and restaurants, and the next will be commercially covered with Dunkin’Donuts, Dominos, McDonalds, KFC….but definitely no Star Bucks. Wealth is a given in all countries, but in Colombia it’s SO extreme. Brilliant, gargantuan homes in the hills and mountains and just a few mountains away are the millions and millions of barrios stuck one to another, and of course the people in the street that have nothing- sometimes entire families as I mentioned above. Drinks are worth mentioning, namely because you can find the best hot drinks here with coffee and hot chocolate, but the cold ones are scheit. One night we even got microwaved lemonade, maybe the waitress thought it would make it better? I don’t know. Diet manzana isn’t my thing and the beer, well I don’t know that South America is good with the whole beer thing. People is my last mention of extremes. You can find some real darkies and white, white, whiteys with radiant green and blue eyes. Some aren’t worth a glance and … well many make one turn in awe of their beauty. Some people mentioned to me that Medellin has the most beautiful girls in the world. Blah blah blah, yeah they were cute, but come on, everywhere I go- there are supposedly “the most beautiful girls in the world” Ukraine, Czech Republic, Hungary, Venezuela, and now specifically Medellin, Colombia. To tell you the truth, I couldn’t give a rip about all this chit chat about beautiful girls, I am much more interested in where the most beautiful of the opposite sex reside. Colombia has lotsJ About bums, well they have their extremes too- you have the smart Colombian bums and the dumb ones, the old ones, the young ones, the quiet ones, the loud ones, the grateful ones, the ones that snarl at you even if you give them something. I shared a picture of the bum family- they sort of had a home though, on the top of that wagon. I also saw a few that were all too young to be on the street. One whose image will forever stay in my mind is a little boy, about 7 or 8. He was walking-fast-down the street with a carrying bag strapped across his chest, and a short, sturdy walking stick. He was on a mission and definitely wasn’t headed home to get warm and cozy under a blanket- I could tell, that just didn’t exist for him. See, now if I was a bum in Colombia, specifically Bogota, I would gather up all my money just to get a ticket to bum somewhere warm. I watched them building fires at night and snuggling close to one another on the cold pavement… One more extreme with people (1-color/beauty 2-bums) is the workers. 90 year old workers 9 year old workers, probably younger ..and older. Both ages will be on the street selling pieces of gum or candies, coming onto the buses and singing for money, anything to make a buck. The place we went on Sunday, the kids basically ran the place. Their was a little girl in the bathroom collecting the coins, a boy kept the fire going for the soup and meats, he also wiped the tables at the restaurant, another little girl helped her sister serve the food to wherever the people wanted to eat it- near a campsite, by the lake, on the mountain. Ok, so you get the idea, it’s an extreme place.
I went to many museums while I was in my 2nd country in S.A: Botero Museum, National Museum, Gold Museum, Maloka (science), and I definitely found out something about myself and museums. I don’t like them unless they have a foto exhibition. Don’t get me wrong, it’s nice to see some stuff, gold is cool, and statues, etc. but once you throw history into the mix- I’m bored out of my gourd. Whereas I can spend hours in one room full of photographs, I love them. I visited the salt mines outside of Bogota, where there is a extraordinary underground cathedral made of salt. It is enormous, with the stations of the cross outlining the church itself through deep curvy tunnels. I went on a mountain hike with Paola and her co-workers and saw one of Colombia´s natural lakes and a superb view. I learned that the tall grass that I passed by on my way to Bogota wasn´t grass at all, it was sugar cane- tall, tall sugar cane. I love the juice! I didn’t go to many beaches however, I have to attribute my ever-fading tan to that. 21 days in passionate Colombia- only 4 in a hotel. Thanks to lovely Lilibeth in Barranquilla, Joel (Kansas trainee) in Santa Marta, Kelly in Medellin and my dear friend Paola (who also showed me, the technology deficient, how to put links in my blog!) in Bogota who put up with me for a full week! Thanks for showing me your country and cities- you did a fine job and I shall return someday!!!!

Differences from Venezuela:
People walk in crosswalks
Buses have a much sharper braking system
Driving isn’t an Olympic sport
Taxis are metered
Shower water (in Bogota) is warm!!!!
Water is drinkable (in Medellin and Bogota)
Less walkers- still lots, but considerably less
Hot dog stands are less prevalent (a pro and con late at night)
Chicha doesn’t have sprinkles
Winter jackets are worn outside bus trips
Mountains are always in sight… ok, that might be the same
Maids, I love them- especially Luzmeri in Barranquilla. I’ll come back her someday...ok, she’s already taken, but she’d be my choice for sure.

friends of johnnie

paola & angie, originally uploaded by angelaostlie.

Paola and I warmed the benches of Zona Rosa last night on the hunt for the best looking of Bogota

home on the range

in the mtns from medellin to bogota, originally uploaded by angelaostlie.

this is in the mountains on the way from Medellin to Bogota- homes like this exist around every corner

backdrop bogota

backdrop bogota, originally uploaded by angelaostlie.

plaza bolivar

plaza bolivar, originally uploaded by angelaostlie.

museo del oro in bogota

museo del oro in bogota, originally uploaded by angelaostlie.

one of the displays in the gold museum

sea of little girls

museum bathroom, originally uploaded by angelaostlie.

I was trying to leave the bathroom when I heard the roar of little girls coming in. I was trapped for minutes before I could push my way to the exit...through these cackling little people

empanada man

empanada man, originally uploaded by angelaostlie.

I decided to take a rest on a bench here, and it was just my luck that I spotted an empanada man hanging out opposite me on the street.

their home- bogota

their house- bogota, originally uploaded by angelaostlie.

these guys were excited to take a photo- before I arrived at the corner and opened my camera they were cuddled up in the blanket and telling stories, laughing...happy guys.

drug store promo

drug store band, originally uploaded by angelaostlie.

there must have been a promotion at this drug store- I was given shampoo and condoms when I walked by, and the band could be heard for blocks.

smokin hot streets in the chilly city

Simon was his name. He did something for me that I just couldn’t do by myself. After 5 months…under the recommendation of Paola, money was no object. Although I was hoping Simon was the guy at the front with whom I first started talking, once his name was called he came quickly around the corner-a squirrely little fella. I didn’t say much. I was keeping my cool, after handing him instructions to only take what was needed and to keep it the same- I was in the hands of tiny, young, Colombian Simon. Worst haircut I’ve ever had, and it didn’t turn out noticeably bad, actually I am quite happy with it. It’s just that no one compares to my sister Pam’s professional loving touch for the last 20+ years. Obviously she’s the world’s best and will have a good laugh at the lines he’s drawn in my hair in a few months time. But I have to say… I am quite proud of myself for being so relaxed about the whole situation and letting him do what needed to be done.
I think Simon worked some magic because shortly after the cut I ran into Meow Man. I decided that I was going to check out a different part of Bogota and for goodness sake, Carrera 15 was DEFINITELY the right place to go. I walked for a stretch of 20 blocks at one point and the best of Bogota surrounded me. There were 5 or 6 undeniably, hands-down handsome men on every block. One I spotted walked straight toward me and meowed in my ear as he passed. Original. The usually is shouting or whispering terms of endearment, or in this city it is common to hear the guys, with their teeth together- suck the air into their mouth in a fast manner while arching their eyebrows. I liked the meow, it was different…I turned around- he was turned around. I walked a bit farther and turned again- there he was, the same as me- turned head, walking in opposite directions. I considered briefly what would happen if I turned a third time… and I kept walking. STUPID! STUPID! STUPID!!!!
I met with Paola in the same area for a Friday night dinner of delicious crepes (something it also took me 25 years to try) and after the huge meal decided it was in our best interest to settle our stomachs by getting a small bottle of whisky and to drink it on the busy streets while we looked for Bogota’s best. Meow Man didn’t make an appearance, which is probably a blessing in disguise- I didn’t want to taint the good memory with a doofus or someone who wasn’t as good-looking as I remember. We had plenty to look at and critique- yes, that’s what unhitched girls do on a Friday night in Bogota- it was a blast!

Bogota

The place where it all started, point zero- the center of the city, Chorro de Quebedo. The beginning point of where calles & carreras start their numbers from- sometimes they have labels for them too, but as a 2nd day tourist in the same areas of Candelaria I can say that I know where I am about 72% of the time, but that is admittingly a very tiny area of the city.
I met 2 famous people yesterday. One was an old man, soap opera star that wasn’t very bright. (no wonder he’s not a star anymore) I think some of his denseness rubbed off on me in the short chat we had because soon after, while jumping over the plasterman’s cement stuff on the floor, I directly ran into the paint-splattered support of a ladder blocking the entire doorway, and while doing my best acting job, continued with my stutter run under the big ladder -pretending absolutely no one saw the entire incident. The other was a lead singer of some popular band- well… ok, so I didn’t meet him, but I could see he was quick and very sly, weaving about the people in the bar. It reminded me of New York, the place we went- far too expensive for ¾ full warm beers and the place didn’t even whisper dance to me. Or maybe it was my feet that were screaming at me to raise them above my head. After 2 full days of walking Bogota, my dogs were barkin’.
On the streets I passed by quite different areas. There’s an area with all motorcycles-streets and streets of tires, parts, mechanic shops, people looking at bikes, eating breakfast around the bikes, chillin around the bikes- incredible. Then there was the streets of religious articles- usually Mary’s of every size and color. The humongous rolls of plastic streets followed the streets where the prostitutes hang out all day long. I found out in one area the minimum is 200.000 pesos (about $90) and just down the street, in the reduced quality region, you can have your pick from the 5.000-15.000 range.
Pork is big here and I love it. Yesterday I ran into a few pigs, some just the ears & snout- others without their ass sliced off and aluminum foil over their face & ears, still more hanging on the streets with freshly slaughtered animals. Paola wants to introduce me to all the great stuff here- she raves about the mondongo, the blood sausage, and the hair off the pig skin she calmly picks out of her teeth; the filled intestines- she told me about those too. She may try and trick me, already she’s warned.

from Eternal Spring to Eternal Fall

I left Medellin early Monday morning, it was going to be an 8 hour trip through the mountains to Bogota. There was a 12 or13 year old boy in the other window seat in the front row. He was traveling alone, his mother came into the doorway to say goodbye to him 17 times before the bus left. This brings me to mention something that I have noticed about family here… family, and specifically mother-son relationships. They are truly stronger than superglue. I thought it was a bit odd at first, but now I realize it is just the way things are in the Latin culture. Children live with their parents until they are married, you will find 20, 30, even 40 and 50 year olds living with their parents. Hanging out with these guys, you will see that they answer their cell phones all the time, reason being- it’s usually their mom. In a 4 hour period the mother will call at least 2 or 3 times to check out where they are, what they are doing, who they are with, and if they are ok- all the time using such terms of endearment; papa, papi, amor, amorsito. Now I thought these terms were used for a love interest of some sort- a boyfriend, husband, etc, but that doesn’t matter. Mothers will call their babies these names, their daughters will be amor, or amorsita, even I will be amor to old women and men that I encounter. It’s quite a loving culture, quite? who am I kidding, it’s completely a culture of love. The children don’t shy away from it or get embarrassed when their moms are loving them up in front of their friends. I find it well, a little distracting walking down the street and seeing really young women holding hands with really old men, and grown men (for the most part) holding hands with really old women. I can never tell if they are related or if it is their mistress/mistre. Kind of weird.
So anyway, this kid pukes an hour into the trip. It was a bumpy ride, we drove through mountains fast and I was just thankful that I hadn’t taken the night bus. I would have never gotten any sleep. I worked up my arm and leg muscles just to hold on and not get thrown out of my seat around each corner. Finally we stopped for lunch. I was extremely hungry and spotted an excellent display of soups. I asked the girl what kinds they were and she spitted them out so fast, that I looked at the menu and went for the most expensive one ($2) thinking it had to be great. One last time I looked at it and asked if it was chicken… it looked like chicken, it was super chunky. Yes, she said- chicken. Perfect. I sat down and dove in, … but what was that on my spoon? It was furry, kind of coral reef like… this wasn’t chicken. I knew exactly what it was. I grew up on a farm for goodness sake and helped butcher the cows, I was a biology major back then- exploring the lungs, stomach, liver, skin… everything of the cow. This Mondongo soup was cow stomach soup. Ish, I’m not going to bury my teeth into that. I almost tried…4 or 5 times, but settled for the broth that was quite tasty and got an empanada to tie me over.
Bogota saw the likes of me around 7pm that evening, making the trip 10+ hours. Paola found me in the station at yet another empanada stand and took me to her home. I was given the oldest brothers room. Where are you going to sleep I asked the 30 year old bro? I bet you can guess… with the mom. Paola gave me the rundown on Bogota in about 20 minutes and then we were off explore some of the city at a late hour. She took me up to see the city from the top of a mountain where I could see my breath, around the center cityscape and then to El Corral. Oooohhhh El Corral, world’s best mayonnaise- and burgers and fries too. Last year the streets of Istanbul took the cake with the best burgers, but it would take 5 of them to make the kind of burger I ate on Monday night- and much better mayo. I don’t know what made these monster burgers so good, but Paola said that there is a legend that they use worms. If they do, they are certainly on to something.
My first actual day in Bogota was yesterday, Tuesday. I hesitated going outside because the windows were open and I was freezing inside. The night before was unbearably cold and I just didn’t want to expose myself to that kind of feeling. I mean sure, the good thing is that it reminded me of home, but the bad thing was it reminded me of the weather back home. After holding out for 3 or more hours I had the maid, Angelica, make me some lunch and I was off. Ok, it wasn’t that bad- with 4 layers on. (I totally didn’t pack for this) and when the sun came out I went down to 2. I made my way without problems to Germania in the center of things near the mountains. There I walked and walked, went to the Gold Museum, some shops to look for sweaters and scarves, and through the squares where the gov’t buildings are. I was delighted to try the best hot chocolate in the world- something I read in someone else’s blog- but 100% true. And I was able to maneuver to find a great little bakery where I indulged in another of Colombia’s fantastic breads. Jose, the guy the panaderia was named after, asked me if I wanted a coffee, espresso, mochachino, or latte; I turned them all down- today it is my mission to try some more of Colombia’s coffee. I have to, I’m in Colombia- but the famous Mondongo soup, I don’t think so.
Coming back to Paola’s I took the right bus YEAH!!! but went 40 minutes too far BOOO!!! It all worked out in the end, the bus driver and I became friends and I got a free tour of that part of the city. Once I finally made it home and Paola’s mind was at ease, we went to eat chicken… with gloves, so our hands wouldn’t get dirty. It was fabulous.
Now I’m off once again to explore this larger than life city- about 8 million, I may even look for coffee… no I won’t, but I’m sure to stumble across every few seconds.

MOTO taxi, MOTO taxi, taxi MOTO, MOTO taxi!!!!!!

Is there anything better than that? Sure. To have a friend with a motorcycle that will bring you up to this site in the mountains surrounding Medellìn and fly kites until all the lights in the city are turned on and the moon is full. Fabulous.

from the top of kite flying territory- Medellìn. Great picture sure, but in real life the lights twinkle and dance for you.

Medellin is set in a valley. The view from the tops of the mountains that surround this city is quite amazing. It has about 3 million very proud paisas living between these mountain ranges. On the mountains themselves is where the barrios are, solid, back to back, small brick (sometimes stick) with tin roofs, living quarters for less well-to-do inhabitants. Here the streets are tiny, winding from one crowded area to another. There is room for buses and some cars, but its more for walking because 99% of people living in the barrios don't have a car. Imagine climbing down or up a mountain each morning and night to get to where you have to go-school, work, markets... of course there are some of these amenities within the barrio itself, but for the most part these people have to go up and down each day. Some years ago they put the tourist money to good work and made a cable car going up the largest mountain to make life easier for them. In addition, the tourists (me) now have a cheap ride to the top of the city for a great view overlooking all of Medellin.
Here's the one of the top stations of the metrocable. In this view of the city there are ONLY barrios. Looking at the mountain facing you, it is solid with them.
A closer view of humble abodes on the mountain side. A far cry from living in the mountains of Colorado.

weekend rumba

This is taken at a hot dog stand after the concert we went to last night. It was a fabulous time as always. Kelly is on the phone in front. I'm staying with her... and her brother, aunt and twin cousins. Left to right is Diana, I took the tropical dance lessons with her and Kelly :) Then there is Juan Felipe, myself and Lucas.
Here is where I spent a majority of my day, at the university. There was a fair or something where different organizations sell stuff. We decided to sell my services too, offering american massages. I was pretty excited because I was able to be in the university spirit again and even make some signs promoting ... well, promoting myself- kind of silly, I know but it was super fun!

¡dame mas gasolina!

I LOVE MEDELLÌN! I LOVE MEDELLÌN! I LOVE MEDELLÌN!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

I didn't think it would be this good. After hauling my years worth of crap from the hotel to the metro, up the stairs, up more stairs, to the university and up 3 more flights-- I found the AIESEC office. YESSSS!!!!
Instantly I was in love with these people. They are incredible. I believe that they will be one of the top LCs shortly. If you are thinking about coming to Colombia- come to Medellìn, you will be in awe.
I walked around the university and spotted many AIESEC banners, posters, and advertisements- one had a ton of pictures that I was drawn to. On the very top, Agnes, Jill, Clarali, and Amber were smiling at me- representing AIESEC US at a Global Village somewhere. I felt at home. Also I found an Austrian AIESECer that I met last year in Turkey and Ivan, the LCP from Bogota. I was all smiles.
After a few beers at the university I attended a tropical dance class with Kelly (the lovely girl I'm staying with) and Diana. Best decision I made so far. It was really cool. I have a new found respect for the guys that can dance here. Their moves are quite difficult and I can't help but wonder how they learn them. Do they take a secret class or something, because I just can't picture these macho men taking dance classes in public. It's amazing, I am going to learn how to dance if takes me another 7 months!
Daddy Yankee preformed here last night, but I decided that I would support the local talent instead. Another great decision on my part. It was fantastic. Lucas brought us to a concert of his friends and I had a front row seat. I was even able to practice my new moves with Lucas, another great dancer- I love all the spinning!!!! The Yankster had nothing on the guitars, bongos and long haired voices of these first time preformers. I would go to hear them every night if I could.
Tonite is another live concert with Diana's brother preforming some hip-hop, reggaeton, reggae, and some other jivin' tunes I'm sure.

Jesse was right about his warning to me: "the Colombian arepas don't have shit on the Venezuelan ones" I was surprised about some of the food differences really. Cachapas don't exist here, chicha doesn't have sprinkles or cinnamon, empañadas are more corny, cocadas are a sweet dessert- not a delightful coconut drink, and the arepas... I don't understand why they do what they do to them. They could be so good if only filled with the right things and some guasasaca, which also doesn't exist here. But I do have to say in the defense of Colombian food everywhere, it is quite good- and they do have Bandeja Paisa which is just lovely.

an old entry

14/09/05
I found myself in an artesian gifts and crafts store for the mega tourist when I heard English, I turned around and the two people I saw certainly looked familiar. I ate pizza with them last week in Barranquilla- how funny life is! Dan & Ally (AIESECers from England) were taking a short holiday before heading back to England next week. They were the reason I decided to stay another day in Cartagena. If they hadn’t I would have never saw the likes of the historical sites the city has to offer. We did more walking, calling much more attention now as 3 gringos. Tuesday they wanted to snorkeling, so I said “sure, why not” J I vetoed the first full bus headed in the direction we were going because I didn’t want to stand for 45 minutes. Dan was a bit flustered and thought there wouldn’t be another bus for an hour. I assured him if he’d relax everything would work out fine and if we waited more than 5 minutes I would pay for a cab. Within seconds we were comfortably seated on the next bus. Once at the beach they needed to get swimwear and snorkel gear. Another veto from me on buying anything…I went along and watched them spend their money with the pushy vendors. We got to the “crystal clear, white sandy beaches, tropical fish viewing waters” of Punta Arena Island and found out that it wasn’t all the boat driver told us it would be. Of course it wasn’t- the guy lived on the island, it was his livelihood and the livelihood of the others living on the island for him to get us there for the day. The water was crappy but warm. The sand was white, it was nice. The vendors were lining up for us and Dan was in a tizzy, I proceeded to calm him explaining that it was A.O.K. and that I would be happy to take a look- to not have him push them away. We were their business for the day, no one else was on the island. “I never thought the U.S. could act as international cooperation between England and Colombia.” he replied and the rest of the day went off without a hitch—well, except for when we were leaving, they all wanted us to “tip” them for the wonderful job they did of….hanging around all day.
I was able to get on a bus Tuesday evening to Medellin, a 16 hour bus ride that lasted 19 in total. (wow, some of the things I write I can tell the quality of my English is diminishing) The people I encounter at the bus station are always a story in themselves…Javier, my Spanish talking partner at the station this night was asking quite a lot of questions and got to my family. At this point I remembered talks with Brandi, Cesar, and Nicole my first weekend at the beach in Venezuela and Nicole mentioned that I should never admit that I have family or any ties anywhere to someone that might have money when in Colombia, for reason that if you are alone, you aren’t worth much- but once you have a large family that loves you—well, they’ll do most anything to assure your health and well being. So, I disowned my family. Sorry guys, but you didn’t exist in this conversation. It felt really weird saying that I was alone in the world and had no ties to anyone anywhere, but that’s exactly what I said. I wanted to tell him the truth afterward, he seemed like a nice enough guy, but I didn’t want anyone over hearing me tell about my large wonderful family back home that loves me to bits. I started off in the 2nd row next to an older gentlemen that was such a busybody that I couldn’t stand him. Every time the bus would slow down -quite a lot- or go over a bump -frequently, any time there were lights in the distance or any time he felt like checking out the situation he would half stand up and take a good look at everything. He was driving me nuts so I moved once there was an open spot. Soon I was next to a mother and her 2 year old son. The little man was pretty sad when he realized his Dad wasn’t coming with that he screamed for 30 minutes or more for his papa. Once he wore himself out we all managed to get some sleep and the change of seats proved to be rather beneficial for yours truly.
We were almost to Medellin, I could feel it in my bones. Curling around each twist in the mountains of inner Colombia, the long sweeping grass was much taller than our bus. The donkeys were picture perfect along side the roads, hauling large bamboo sticks on their backs. Sure enough, there it was- 3 hours later than I hoped for I was seeing the start of Medellin. It was full of barrios, in fact at first glance I was thinking that may be all there was to Medellin. Once put together at the bus station, I was able to walk to the metro. Yes, Medellin has a metro. It’s a very funny little metro, but a metro nonetheless. There are exactly 3 cars, its above ground and it stops every 3-4 blocks. AND I was told that Colombia is much cheaper than Venezuela, which when it comes to the metro and phone calls, and I’m sure other things, isn’t true. The metro costs 4x more and the phone calls on the street cost double. Not a big fan of rising costs when traveling, not one bit.
I didn’t know where to go on the metro so I just asked someone where the center was and got off there, completely disregarding that the center of the city usually isn’t the best place in the city to go. I tried the recommended “bandeja paisa” of Medellin which was great with rice, chorizo, some other ground up meat, beans, soft sweet plantains, fried pig fat with a bit of meat, french fries, a mini arepa, and on top an egg. Excellent it was, all except for the beans and sweet plantains- I don’t think I’ll ever learn to like the texture of beans. It all started with soup and ended with a guava candy- all this and great service for under $2.
Wandering around the streets I found something a little strange. The panaderias and the internet cafes weren’t as prevalent. But then again maybe I wasn’t on the right streets. Seems that each street here had its own theme. On one street I found back to back stores with furniture, nothing but furniture. On the next it was shoes, only shoes. Following, watches and watch bands; then fish, fresh fish- yeah solid fresh fish for a block! (smelly) Backpacks, cell phones, piñatas, clocks, fabric stores, casinos, etc. Tomorrow I hope to find the street with panaderias- I love fresh baked goods.
When it was time for me to meet with Esteban it was also the time for the hookers to start work. There was one every 20 steps on my 3 block walk to the metro. By the time I came back to the hotel they were scarce. Rush hour for hookers seem to take place between 8-10 at night.
I’m excited for this city already. I know its who your with and not where you are that makes all the difference in the world and Esteban set up this city to be nothing but great. If the rest of the AIESECers are similar to him I may just have to stay here for a while, in the city of eternal spring. The weather is simply lovely. It’s not too hot as it certainly was in the first 3 cities I visited in Colombia and it’s not too cool, but perfect… just like spring J I can handle it for a bit, my tan is sure to suffice until I hit up the beaches of Ecuador.
Now for inquiring minds everywhere, some points about why I travel solo:
Of course I stated early that its not where you are but who you’re with that makes a place what it is, so there’s definitely pros and cons, but here’s some of my pros
*I’m never in a hurry.
*I don’t have to follow anyone else’s bad sense of direction.
*If I get lost, I know that I’ll see stuff I hadn’t planned to see and I go with it.
*I can stop anywhere and not have anyone waiting for me or wondering where I wandered off to.
*I don’t have to compromise with myself- I always do exactly what I want.
*I don’t have walk 45 minutes to assist in getting snorkel gear that I’m not going to use anyway.
*I can change my plans without consulting anyone else
*I can eat at which ever restaurant I choose, or grab a easy open can of tuna and be happy with dinner.
*I walk at my own pace----always.
*I’m asked for directions.
*I’m not hassled as a gringo to buy things (as much)
*I don’t depend on others to speak the language, I SPEAK IT & I LOVE IT!!!

words straight from a true loner
if you think that term is derogatory, we need to talk- email me

where am I?

taken within the last hour on the streets of central Medellìn
for those of you who haven't a clue where I am or where I've been. I started in Barranquilla, then traveled to Santa Marta, Cartagena, and now Medellìn- next up, Bogota.

AHHHHHHHHHH

talk about complete frustration with technology- I am the epitome of it.

I had my computer "fixed" before leaving Caracas and the guy didn't fix the one thing I wanted him to and still charged me 150.00 bs. I loathe him.
Now, at the internet cafes in Medellìn- yes, now I'm in Medellìn the computers are slower and more expensive than any I've ever experienced before in all my life! AND the keys stick. URGH!
I have to upload my photos every day so I can take more because my camera memory card is somehow out of commission.

On the bright side, the city is great, people are better, and weather is perfect! It's the city of eternal spring. I'm off to walk it and not think about this stupid technology crap for a day or two.
I have a huge entry- just waiting to post it once these machines want to cooperate with me.
Over and out from coffee country...angelina

leaving Cartagena...

I don't even know how to start... lots has happened in a short time. Last Wednesday I was in Barranquilla, I ended up in the AIESEC office somehow and Ivan from Bogota was the one who drove me over the edge. So many people had told me about Santa Marta and how great it was that I guess one more person was all that I needed. I was on a bus 2 hours later. Santa Marta was perfect. I spent only a short time there, but I had the perfect day. I was going to hang at the local beach near the tourist district with some AIESECers and play in the water, but they had turned off their phones at the exact time they told me to call- ok, too easy, I thought. You tell me to call and then you don't have your phone on? No problem. I hopped a bus to Taganga- a place that thier trainee from Kansas recommended. He said it was more of a "hippie beach" where the vendors wouldn't hound me as much. Perfect. Done deal. Two buses later I found myself on Taganga beach with hundreds of boats. Why did he tell me to come to a beach full of boats? There wasn't even a place for me to lay on the sand! I spotted a hill and some people climbing it, I headed their way. Covered in braids and tattoos they were super friendly and we ended up hanging out all day long. They spoke zero English, which was fabulous for me. Their first question- "Do you have any tattoos or piercings?" I answered a little quickly saying that "I am a simple girl. I don't need that kind of thing, or want it. Look at me, I don't even have my ears pierced." Two of them, from Bogota, own a tattoo shop. Ooops. It didn't matter, they were cool with my simplicity and we got along great. It was in fact the perfect day on the beach. I have some great pictures of how fantastic the beach was, but now of course my cameras large memory card is not functioning. I can't access my pics and now am using the card my camera came with, it holds about 15 pictures. Perfect timing for when I am travelling to a different city every day- just wonderful. I went back to Barranquilla for a day and then headed west to Cartagena. It was hardest to say goodbye to Luzmari, believe it or not. This maid was one in a million, such a sweet girl- I wanted to bring her with me. I hopped a cab to the bus terminal and got a sweet deal. I found out why when I entered his taxi. My seat was a bit lopsided and their was absolutely no air flow. It would be about a 30 minute ride, I could do it- no problem. The problem soon arose when we couldn't find a working ATM and I needed cash. I got a full tour of the city, the hot, hot city. Barranquilla is much hotter than Caracas for some reason. He kept his cool, but had a rag to wipe his face every 25 seconds. I wasn't in a hurry to get any specific bus, so I just felt bad for him. He took me to every nook and cranny to find an ATM that would work for me and nothing. It was my favorite cab ride so far, he reminded me of Dave Price- and if you know Price, you know how funny of a taxi driver that personality, goofy laugh and smile can be. Once I found one that spit me out some money I got myself and "Dave" a cold beverage. I brought it to him and he was thankful. I sucked my water down immediately and he put his in the center. I looked at him ackwardly, like "why in the world aren't you drinking it, aren't you hotter than hot?" and he said something about having it with lunch. Wow, really, you are sweating constantly and you are going to SAVE it for lunch? It was bound to be warm in about 5 minutes- the car was an oven. After an hour and a half with this guy, we made it to the bus terminal. The bus was a super drastic change, pumping ice cold air through the cabin.

I stayed awake for a while with "Matilda" or "Karoline" some movie with little girls at a strict school with nuns. It was interrupted mid movie with a change of channel. We were now mid movie with "China Dolls" - this was in the middle of the day, with plenty of children aboard. The first scene was of about 20+ women all dressed in the same tank tops and shorts, in a military like barracks fighting each other- to the death. Very graphic, very bloody, very breathtaking- I couldn't stop watching it. The only problem with these movies is that, well, for one- they cut in and out. So you can watch for 10 minutes without any complications and then it shuts off, or the screen freezes... very frustrating, especially when there is nothing else to look at. The windows are covered with cloth and its the middle of the day, so there is really no where else to avert your eyes.

Eventually i made it to Cartagena and to the hotel where the new member conference was taking place. I was introduced and tried to answer all the questions that I thought would overwhelm me during interactions for the rest of the conference. You know... "Why are you in Cartagena?" "How long have you been here?" "How long do you plan to stay?" "Where do you live?" "Are you doing a traineeship here?" and on.. and on... and on... Well, it didn't matter. I was asked and asked the same questions for 29 hours straight. Tried to keep my cool, but sometimes I just couldn't. Their were some people that asked, didn't listen and then asked the same question 5 minutes later. I ended up staying in a hotel last night too. I wanted to stay with an AIESECer, but the only one that offered- I couldn't even stand to be around after we sat at lunch together. She was driving me nuts after just a few minutes. I would pay the $6 just to not listen to her.

By the way, if ever going to Cartagena I definately have to recommend that you NOT stay at the Hotel Costa Norte. It sucked. The food was short on quality and quantity, the service was null, every towel had ants swarming on it, and the beach chairs you had to pay extra for! I was a little salty with the whole experience.

Now, in downtown Cartagena I think I will only stay the day and head onto Medellìn this evening. I'm sure this city has tons to offer, but I am through with it. (for instance I have been on the internet for almost 2 hours now) Medellìn I hear is much cooler, and by that I mean cold. It's like 60 something degrees, thats a 30+ degree drop for me. My body may go into shock, I don't know if I'm ready. Yes I am.

Soon after (maybe a week or two) I head to Ecuador... not sure where- anyone know some accomodating contacts there? anyone? or a good city, place to go?

a good ole cup of joe

I can't think of a better place to be than Colombia. I have been treated like a queen ever since my arrival. I was picked up at the bus station by a couple of local yocals and brought to Lilibeth's house in a most lovely part of the city. I toured the university where AIESEC Barranquilla makes the magic happen and had a fabulous lunch with a French Canadian and Slovak. Now, the lunch is worth noting: we started with a traditional soup- meat, potato/yuka, cilantro and plenty of other tasty ingredients, following was a full plate of meat (my choice was carne asada-a shredded form, there was also chicken and a steak-like piece), rice, yuka, and salad. Between 3 of us we shared a pitcher of homeade juice with fruit that only grows here, and at the end I even got a piece of candy. All this for 3.300 Colombian pesos. This works out to be about $1.40- - - incredible.
Back at Lilibeth's pad I was serviced by her maid, LooseMary. (ok, that's probably not how you spell it, but thats exactly how it sounds) LooseMary had supper waiting for me, and even made me chocolate milk- something I had been craving all day. She brought me the TV clicker as I sunk into their plush couch. I obviously was looking for the Brazilian telenovela but I missed it, its an hour earlier here. I am now on the same time as my family in Minnesota.
Yesterday I went to Johanna's apartment, that in a city of over 3 million people, happened to live on the next block from Lilibeth. Johanna I met on the bus from Caracas and we went to her mother's beach house in Santa Veronica about 30 minutes away from Barranquilla. Amazing it was... travelling with her mother, son, brother and cousin. Her mother used to own a restaurant in this private little paradise and on the weekends she still cooks for the people that travel through the area. Her mother invited me to stay with her for a week... helping out with her kitchen during the weekend, chillin' on the deserted beach and an uncle would of course take me deep sea fishing to catch the lunch for the days ahead. Oh my gosh!!!!
I fished cocos out of the palm trees next to her house so we could mix it with our Colombian rum. I ate the most amazing fishplate ever imaginable and all the while thought of sitting with my dad and mom... on a beach shore in Cozumel. I devoured this sucker and licked every bone dry just as they would do. The coconut rice was just right and the avacado salad done to perfection. The ocean water was super warm, but still refreshing from the sun's burning rays. Johanna's son found me a sand dollar in the water. I asked him if it was alive or dead, he told me it was alive... then proceeded to break it in half pulled out it's heart and gave it to me. He could see I was crushed and then assured me that it was in fact dead. At that point, I could even tell it was dead.
Back at the beach house the rum and coco milk turned conversation into something a bit more... well... let's just say I was cringing with some of the things that were spoken of. The little community of Santa Veronica and the rural areas of Colombia had some stories to tell, and what stories they were. I was told of how men get drunk and end up with animals in the late night hours. How the donkeys, pigs, and chickens (sometimes- because they die after it happens) are taken advantage of by these drunkards. The brother told me he used to rent out the donkeys to his friends when they were 15-16 years old. Surely they were joking with me. No, they all told me time and time again, this really happens. Even the mother agreed and said the "new" thing now is cows because their chucha is the most similar to a woman's. The neighbors even got into this conversation and all I could do was sit there--- floored. Unbelievable, or believable-but unacceptable. Before we left back for Barranquilla a neighbor brought over a heaping plate of shrimp. More shrimp than I had ever seen on one plate- more shrimp than I had ever eaten. I felt fat and happy leaving this place. Although after the animal tales, I think I'll pass on the offer to go back and stay for a week.
Now, back in the comfort of Lilibeth's place I am once again filled to the brim with meat, potatoes, rice and patacones. LooseMary even squeezed some fresh pineapple juice today.
What a life I live.
About the Colombian coffee... if you know me, you know that I don't drink coffee. Yesterday I decided I wasn't going to say no. I'm in Colombia for goodness sake, the place of "the best coffee in the world"! I couldn't pass up the opportunity when Johanna's mother greeted me with a cup at 630am. I hesitated little because I already decided before I came to Latin America that if I would drink coffee anywhere, it would be here in Colombia. I was thankful that the cups were small and actually finished most of it. There was quite a bit of sugar, which was good for me and I actually sort of liked it. For breakfast we were served cafe con leche, which in the U.S. would be a latte. Even Kevin, the 12 year old son had one of these at his place setting. I did as the Colombians do and I was pleased. Don't get me wrong, I'm not going to start frequenting Starbucks or anything, but I don't think I'll turn down a cup in this country either.

ain't it good to be alive

First of all, I'd like to say that if you are going to sing along to my song-get the words right. The Stones wrote it for me, not for an "Angel"- but me, "ANGIE" I caught a stocker boy in the supermarket singing along and I had to correct him. One more person in the word who is informed... I like it :)

I didn't think the bus ride would go as quickly as it did, but lo-and-behold, I was here before I knew it. I was in the front seat, exactly in front of an old woman who started singing opera tunes directly into my ear-no one elses, for the first 25 minutes. I was so frustrated with her that I didn't let myself enjoy the lovely music. Then it stopped... YESSS! I was nodding off and it started again, followed by the intense air conditioning on the bus. I again didn't let myself enjoy the music, it just wasn't meant for me to enjoy. And the freezing cold air? Well, I really thought I planned ahead- I had 3 pair of sox, 2 pair of pants, 6 shirts, a hood and a bandana to cover my face and I still woke up with chills every 15 or 20 minutes just when I was drifting into dreamland. I actually woke up to hear my neighbor say to me... "can we share a pillow? it would be warmer." I tried to respond but couldn't move from my coma state with my hands under my arm pits like Mary-Katherine Gallager. He got up and asked the bus drivers, in English, to turn the air down because it was unbearable. This all seemed perfectly normal, until I woke up to change positions and said to him "they turned it down, huh?" and then realized he didn't speak English.
I crossed the border into Colombia this morning in the hours just before the sun fully lit the sky and this part of the world, my part of the world. I saw no guerrillas. I had no problems, and actually I should have had some serious ones- because I convienently didn't have the paperwork saying how long I could stay in Venezuela, but luckily was granted a graceful exit. If I would have had those papers I think it wouldn't have gone so smoothly. A tourist should only stay on a tourist visa for 3 months and if you read previous entries my stay slightly extended that. Well, they let me out and now I'm Chavez free!
Arriving into Barranquilla it was only fitting Shakira was pumped through bus speakers. I think I'll see if we can meet for lunch if she's in town this week. Maybe she can give me some dancing lessons or something :)
I got picked up at the bus station and everyone has been completely accomodating to me. I love this country already! It gets a nasty wrap from the United States but I'm super glad that I'm here to see it in all of its glory with my own eyes. The fields of Chicita's own bananas stretched for miles and miles, it was truly amazing- but I held back with my camera in the bus because that was Dan's piece of advice before my departure. I abided.
I think I'll go to the beach tomorrow with a woman I met on the bus. It was close to 100F today and if tomorrow follows the trend I can't think of a better place to be than on the beaches of Colombia!
Sending all my love from Uninorte in Barranquilla

GOING OUT WITH A BANG!

GET READY COLOMBIA- HERE I COME!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

GOODBYE VENEZUELA, YOU ARE MY FIRST TRUE LOVE IN SOUTH AMERICA. GRACIAS POR TODO!

STAY single

that's my favorite t-shirt so far.

So, it's official- I'm outta here. After exactly 4 months in fabulous Caracas and I'm headed out on Sunday night. I will be going by bus and arriving in Barranquilla at 1230 on Monday. Some lovely Barranquillans will pick me up at the bus station there. Look for a post from me soon after that. If not....I have been kidnapped and taken far, far away into the forests of northern Colombia- raped, killed, chopped into tiny pieces to be used as tree fertilizer.
But the lady at the bus station (from Barranquilla) seemed confident that I would have zero problems and that the bus and route is ultra-super safe. She even gave me the number for her mother in Barranquilla and other workers and attendants along the way that I could handle anything I throw at them... including my luggage. YESSSS!!!!!!!
But still think keep me in your thoughts and prayers over the weekend, for this is one journey that I am a bit nervous about. I will be thinking of all of you too!
Happy September to all and too all an easy-going weekend :)

crappy t-shirt of the day: HOT ENOUGH