Seven Last Words of Christ, Part I

Note:  These entries will not have anywhere near the number of pictures that I normally put on my blogs.  Nonetheless, the words are intended to be more profound.  This is going to be one introspective week.

I've been doing a lot of thinking over the past few days.  I opted not to go on vacation for Semana Santa, something that has made more than a few people give me a funny look.  Apparently not traveling during this coming week suddenly makes evidence of leprosy appear on your skin.  Nonetheless, I had a decent rationale:  I'll take this week to do a couple different things, catching myself up both academically and financially.  I have to write a big paper for one of my classes, worth 40% of the grade, as well as work a few extra hours tutoring in English to make sure I've got some extra money for what will be an otherwise boring month of May.

Besides all of this, I've also been thinking a lot about faith.  This is Holy Week, a week designed to give us one last chance before the end of Lent to get our act together before Easter hits us like a freight train.  Confess your sins, go to church, think good thoughts, say a few extra rosaries, the list goes on... the point is, if you royally screwed up during Lent, you should do your best to fix it.

And so... I'm taking this week to meditate upon a profound part of the Bible, and something we all know if we've seen The Passion of the Christ:  We call them "the Seven Last Words of Christ." Some people call them "sayings," but the same meaning holds.  Christ made seven distinct sayings over the four different Gospels to which we give value.  As this is the first day, let me focus on the first saying:

"Father, forgive them; for they know not what they do." (Luke 23:34)

Christ, on the cross, took a profoundly sympathetic attitude towards his persecutors, in spite of the fact that they had just scourged him, forced him to walk miles with heavy wood on his freshly scourged back, and nailed him to the aforementioned wood.  In a sense, he had good reason to be a little bit mad at the world.  Nonetheless, he prayed for their conversion up to his dying breath.  Beyond that, he maintained that they had no idea what they were doing, something that could not cut into their hearts, hardened by the politics of Jews and Romans in Roman Judea.

I look at these words with a heavy heart.  Not only have I been in situations where I found it hard to forgive people, but I've also done bad things to people that have made me wonder if it was even possible to forgive me.  Sure, God forgives every time we go to confession and make our penance, but people don't have the same hearts as God.  People have all kinds of reasons to maintain grudges in their hearts, and sometimes it seems completely rational, especially when I'm the one who they're holding a grudge against.  I think to myself, how could I have been that stupid?  Inconsiderate?  Cruel?  Unreasonable?  You think for a minute about some kind of penance, but then your own pride gets in the way.  How far are you willing to lower yourself to make peace with those who matter?  It's hard.

I don't name names on my blog unless it's for something good, but I remember almost everyone in my life who I've hurt.  If I don't, it's probably because I drank too much or had too much on my mind to remember.  People who know me know that I have a good memory, and I can't deny many times that I know something if I've come across it.  The biggest penance that I have to make in my life is to find ways to make those who I've hurt forgive me.  That's not the only step, either:  then I have to work up the courage, fighting back a couple tears, to forgive myself.  With more time, I hope to be able to do it.

For now, however, I stop what I'm doing, clear my head, and pray on it for a few minutes.  If a rosary is nearby, I run through the decades, trying to meditate on the importance of the mystery while thinking about the good and the bad I've been through in a given day.  Hopefully, looking at the second saying tomorrow, I'll be able to reflect on some of my redeeming qualities and how they're helping me to balance the effects of a heavy heart.  Have a good night, everyone.

Ecuador, Part 3: Indigenous Markets and Karaoke

Saturday morning was a bit of an early one, as Jenny and her mom wanted to take me for a drive outside of Quito once again.  This time, we would be headed to Otavalo, a small town about an hour-and-a-half north of the capital.  The town, populated heavily by indigenous folk, is also known for the manufacture and sale of many unique indigenous handicrafts, including blankets, sweaters and tapestries.  Of course, the idiot in me emerged profoundly, and I forgot to whip out my camera to take a few pictures.  Therefore, this entry is not going to be picture-heavy in the slightest.  I apologize now for that, before you get lost in all the dry humor I will try to use to compensate.

Little did I know that, upon arrival, I was to receive a healthy lesson in hiding and haggling from my hosts. One thing that we learn as gringos when traveling to Latin America is that there are far more informal markets than in the typical American town.  With informal markets come not-so-set prices:  anyone who has never learned to haggle in their lives finds themselves with a bit of a learning curve.  I for one am horrible at it, as I really don't have the stomach to tell someone indirectly that their sweater isn't worth $20.  The only instances where I do get just a little bit lucky are when I walk away, and the salesman can't stand the notion of losing a sale.  Otavalo, with its thousands of gringo and non-indigenous Ecuadorian customers every weekend, doesn't have that problem.

I learned from Vinny that in Otavalo, salesmen set three prices:  let's imagine that you're selling a sweater.  First, there's the gringo price, that suckers such as you and I pay.  An indigenous person might be generous and offer it to you for $30-35.  Second, there's the mestizo price, that a non-indigenous Ecuadorian would pay.  They might get the price knocked down to the low $20's.  Finally, there's the indigenous price, which probably is right around what the poor souls need to break even.  However, showing solidarity with their indigenous neighbors, they will sell the sweater to them more in good faith than to make a quick buck.  Let's put that price at around $15.

Because I shop for indigenous goodies about as well as Amish people shop for iPhones, Jenny and Vinny took the lead.  I pointed to something that I liked from a distance and said it was something that either my family or I would be interested in, and one of them sent me for a walk while the other went to ask about the price.  At least, as Ecuadorians, they could negotiate the middle price to start.  I saw an alpaca blanket that I liked, and so I gave Jenny a little money and walked away, pretending to look at something else.  I made a ballpark figure in my head of what the blanket would cost, and I was amazed when Jenny walked back to me with the blanket and change in her hands!  I was grateful and amused at the same time.   I also managed to find an Ecuador soccer scarf and a wristband, all while spending under $25.  These purchases would not have been possible without Jenny and Vinny, clearly better shoppers (and hagglers) than I.

We had some authentic fish and potatoes for lunch at a nice family restaurant about halfway home.  From my Maranhão experience, I'm not too bad at picking at a fish that still has its spines, but alas, I probably still ingested two or three of the damn things.  Oh well... they still taste fine with a little spritz of lemon, and there are still no holes in my esophagus to this day.

After another late afternoon epic nap, I woke up to some semi-loud music.  Pulling on some clothes, I walked out to the living room of Jenny's family's house to find her family and another singing karaoke.  Although I didn't understand most of the music being performed, I figured I'd sit down and join them.  Wouldn't you know, out comes the book of songs, and I'm next to pick one.  I quickly leafed through, trying to find something in English.  Finally I settled on a Queen song, "I Want to Break Free." I am no wizard when it comes to lyrics or establishing a consistent key in any song, so the first song came out like nails on a chalkboard.  Eventually, I got better, though, and I ended up mixing in quite well with the rest of the group.

With the other family, we had dinner that night in the house.  There were meat, potatoes and these little pieces of toasted corn that I mistook for peanuts at first.  Safe to say, the first time I popped a tostado into my mouth, I made a rather awkward face.  It's not that they tasted bad, just that I expected to have to crunch a little more.  Regardless, it was a fun night, and I went to sleep again late, very tired from a full day of activities.

This concludes my write-ups on the wonderful weekend that was Ecuador.  Sunday was uneventful, aside from eating breakfast and lunch about 45 minutes apart and getting to the airport by 1:30.  It was a true joy to spend a long weekend with Jenny, Vinny and their family, and I look forward to traveling back to Ecuador in the future.  It's always exciting to see new places (in this case, new countries!), and I hope my travels in Latin America continue to be exciting as I move towards the end of the semester.

Ecuador, Part 2: Walking through the Centro Histórico at Night!

A common thing I worry about no matter where I am outside the United States is the safety of the area at night where I'm staying.  From Bogotá to Quito to São Luís do Maranhão, I always hesitate to go out at night unless I'm accompanied by someone who knows the area well.  Fortunately, Jenny and her family are from the area, and they were the ones who suggested to see Quito's historical center at night.  So, around 7:30 that night, after an epic nap, we loaded into the car and headed for the center of town.  We picked up another friend along the way, Che, who helped to explain the history and significance of a lot of the buildings that we were about to visit.

Our first stop was to El Panecillo, a mountain overlooking most of Quito and home to a massive statue of the Virgin of Quito.  From this point, Jenny showed me where to find the Centro Histórico and other important landmarks of the city at night.  I took a few pictures with my camera phone, but unfortunately none of the city shots came out that great, nor did my silly attempt to capture the Virgin from the monument's base.  Nonetheless, we stayed at the top for a good half-hour, then were chased out by the people trying to close the place for the night.  After a super-hot beverage that tasted like a mixture of lemonade, orange juice and cinnamon (how I wish I could remember its name...), we hopped back into the car and descended towards the Centro.

Starting at the plaza of the Church of San Francisco, pictured above, we worked our way through the area, partly on foot, partly on wheels.  I especially enjoyed walking through the streets, as they were nearly empty, except for a couple harmless bums and the police.  Jenny and her mom both mentioned to me that the city was trying hard to keep the area safe, as they knew the area was popular for tourists, especially to see the lit-up structures at night.  It was also great that, in spite of what I read from the weather forecast before arriving in Quito, that we didn't get any rain that night, much to the benefit of my phone's camera.  I'd say I was pretty lucky to see all the churches and old government buildings illuminated.

The Carondelet Palace (pictured above, also below the snazzy hotel) is where the Ecuadorian President lives.  Funny that we, at 11:00 at night, found ourselves there at the same time as a crazy bum who had a lot on his mind.  The entire time that we walked through the plaza taking pictures, this crazy guy was yelling whatever he could think of at the Palace, thinking perhaps that the President could hear.  I found it annoying; then after a while, amusing.  I had to give him credit:  even though I understood not a word of what he was saying, the entire rant was unscripted.  Regardless, there was still a lot to see in the plaza, and I'll share one last picture of something in the same area, coming from the Quito Metropolitan Cathedral:

Yes, I took a lot of pictures of churches, but in the Centro Histórico, it just so happens that they were the brightest parts of the district.  Also, they represented some of the oldest buildings:  the church from the first picture, for instance, was completed in 1604 (three years, in fact, before the first Englishmen landed at Jamestown).  Where the geek in me nerded out over the science that we learned about at the Mitad del Mundo, the history nut went crazy in the Centro Histórico.  It was probably a good thing that we visited at night, otherwise I would have had to try to snag some kind of book at one of the nearby bookstores.  Anyways, after a short drive up one of the hills, we ended up at one of Ecuador's most prized buildings, also a church:  the Basilica del Voto Nacional: 

Of all the individual experiences I had in Ecuador this past weekend, I think that this walk through Quito at night was the best.  I never expected the opportunity, especially after all the petty crime that I had heard about that happens in any city in the country.  The night was perfect... a little cloudy, a few stars, and about 50 degrees out.  While all my compatriots back in Pittsburgh suffer through the early spring cold snap, I have to be thankful for having dodged the vast majority of it.  Anyways, I'll be back tomorrow to wrap up the Ecuador series, and I hope you all have a great night!

Adventures in Ecuador, Part 1

I have to start with a brief apology.  As excited as I was to write the first entry regarding my jaunt to an entirely new land, I came down with a bit of food poisoning Monday night and spent most of the night in the bathroom, or laying on my bed with an unyielding insomnia.  Tuesday I spent the day recuperating and reading, and today I had class and laundry to do.  Therefore, sorry about the wait.  On to Ecuador...

I always have a little bit of dread, I will admit, whenever I find myself arriving in a new country.  Given my understanding of how Americans are perceived in different parts of the world, I often make the mistake of assuming how an entire population will think of my fellow compatriots and I by the attitudes of their respective presidents.  Ecuador, led by Rafael Correa since 2007, has aligned itself with the Bolivarian/socialist side of South America, and has been critical of the United States in recent years.  Part of me always expects a sort of grilling when I arrive in places such as these, and I ensure that my Spanish (or, in Brazil, Portuguese) is in tip-top shape before traveling, to make sure I don't get caught in any typical gringo horror stories.

Nonetheless, after about three simple questions at the Quito airport immigration desk, I found myself welcomed into the country with no issue.  After finding my bag, I found my friend Jenny, and off we went into the city.  One thing, however, that I forgot to mention:  as I discovered an ATM in the airport, I quickly remembered that Ecuador is, to my great relief, dollarized.  What I mean by that is that Ecuador uses the U.S. dollar for purchases, making it very easy for me to estimate the true cost of something.  Anyways, I quickly pulled out $50 and joined Jenny and her mom to head to their house.  Jenny and her family have a cozy but very nice house in a gated community, about a stone's throw from the United States Embassy.  After having a few hamburgers and talking a little too much about the wonders of Heinz ketchup (had to put a Pittsburgh reference in my trip somewhere), I dozed off to sleep with little issue.

The next day, Friday, was to be a jam-packed one.  Together with Jenny's brother Vinny, we set out in the morning to discover la Mitad del Mundo, or the Middle of the World.  This park/complex, just a few kilometers north of Quito, is known for, well, giving tourists the ability to stand on both hemispheres at the same time, I suppose.  I assure you all, however, that it was much more complicated than that.  The Ecuadorians constructed a very pretty monument, shown below, and the area features shops, restaurants, tours and the like.  

If you pay close attention, however, you will note that this particular Mitad is not the real one:  in fact, this Mitad was calculated something like 300 years ago, and geographers have discovered that it was quite imprecise, to the tune of about 250 meters.  Therefore, after visiting the park for a little while, Jenny informed me that we would need to visit another park to see the actual Middle of the World.  That park is called Inti - Ñan, or "The Way of the Sun."  There, for about $4, you can have a guided tour of the outdoor "museum," in which the person will show you different characteristics of the local indigenous people, as well as do different activities that explain the uniqueness of being on the world's equator.

The nifty red line pictured above denotes the geographic equator of our Earth, in case you can't read the Spanish on the sign.  With Jenny and Vinny, I participated in the various activities that the course had to offer, including walking the line with my eyes closed (your body shakes uncontrollably trying to balance), and balancing an egg on a nail.  I was certainly skeptical of the latter:  with the size of an egg, and the surface area of the top of a nail, I figured it was near-impossible.  Nonetheless, after one Peruvian and one Colombian balanced the egg without issue, and the tour guide announcing that the Americans were trailing the Peruvians and Colombians by a score of 1-1-0, I gave in to peer pressure.  Taking the egg in both hands, and with great care, I balanced the egg in about five seconds flat.  We were fortunate, apparently, to be at the Middle of the World near the day of the Spring Equinox, as it made a lot of the magnetic imbalances go away for a short period of time.  If anyone doubts my balancing prowess, by the way, they can look at the nifty certificate I received from the guide at the end of the tour.

Having conquered the egg, we proceeded back to Quito to try our luck at the Telefériqo, Quito's cable car that takes you about 1,500 meters above the city to get a good view.  Unfortunately, as with most days in March in the capital, it was cloudy.  Therefore, the pictures were not so good at the top, but I still got a great view of the city, and Jenny and Vinny pointed out some interesting things to see.  I wisely brought a coat along, as the top of the mountain proved to be a bit cold as well.  I'm guessing it was around 50 degrees, or about 10 degrees Celsius.

As I said that I would present Ecuador in parts, I will leave the rest of my trip to two more, hopefully over the next two days.  I still have to talk about the uniqueness of Quito itself, as well as a moonlit walk through Quito's Centro Histórico and a jaunt through an indigenous market in Otavalo.  Keep posted!  

Towards a Better Body: the Challenge Continues

I stepped on the scale this morning before lunch and after the gym to check my weight.  It's been a pretty regular occurrence here on Fridays that I check, as I'm trying to drop a couple kilograms (roughly 4 or 5 pounds) per week by exercising four times per week.  Today I tipped the scales at about 100.5 kilograms, or about 221.5 pounds.  I also have to take into account that I stepped on the scale with a very wet shirt, having run the treadmill earlier.  The truth is that I need to get back to the harder exercises, such as burpees and sprinting on the treadmill.  It marks a bit of a slow-down in my overall weight-loss picture, but it can also be construed as a good thing.  I've noticed that, as the weeks go by, it's much easier to fit into clothing that I knew I could wear last summer, but certainly could not during the fall.  Also, with the lifting that I have been doing, it could very well be that I'm adding muscle to my frame again.  For instance, with bicep curls, shoulder press and tricep press, I'm trying to get in sets of 15, 12 and 10.  Generally, when I've done the right weight, my arms feel like Jell-O afterwards.

My diet has also changed significantly since arriving in Colombia.  I've said before, in a couple previous posts, about the quality of the food that I've tried.  I need to talk about an important caveat, however:  in spite of the food that I'm eating here, I'm eating it at better times.  For instance, dinner normally isn't after 7:00pm here, unless I have my late Wednesday class.  In addition, my lunches are now bigger:  where I would have enjoyed a plate of beans and rice or paella for dinner before, I now eat it around noon, which gives me more time to walk it off in the course of a day.  Even breakfast is simple:  if I can snag a breakfast arepa with egg, ham and cheese on my way to La Candelaria, along with a cup of fresh-squeezed orange juice, it's enough.  That, paired with the exercise and the crazy amount of walking that I've been doing, has helped me to drop around 25 pounds since being here.

For the future, I'm going to continue to watch my diet.  One arepa should be able to satisfy me, not two, while I'm walking home.  Fruit, while not extremely cheap here, is affordable, and I need to consume more of it when I feel hungry.  The water thing has been a huge plus:  I try to purchase a 1.5 liter bottle every day, and drink from it as I come and go between various water fountains around campus.  I'm also going to try to get more sleep at night:  some of these early mornings leave me feeling far from rested, and I need to figure out how to coordinate a late work night with an early wake-up.  It will come with time, though...

Fun fact:  this weekend, I will be headed to Ecuador.  Expect to see tons of pictures and a fun-filled weekend with a good friend of mine with whom I have been guiding with her English for some time.  Have a good night!

The Value of Patience

After this week, I have a legitimate gripe about Bogotá and Bogotanos.  Generally I'm a polite person, and I try to go out of my way to make sure I remember the manners my Mom taught me when I was little.  However, this week has seriously tried my patience.  I have been pushed around, cussed at in Spanish, and have seen the unfriendliest in Bogotanos and other Colombians.  Let me use some examples:

1.  Church

Ok, people weren't particularly rude in church, but rather it was just that the communion line is anarchy.  In the States, we usually start with the first row, and then filter back, meaning you don't actually go up until all the people in front of you decide whether or not they want to go.  The other thing is that while I'm usually kneeling, as we commonly do in the States, other folks are standing and chomping at the bit to get in line, then preparing to bolt out of the church after communion.  Because of that, I usually end up getting communion close to last, as I don't really want to step on any toes getting up to the front.

2.  Airplanes

This one is close to the worst!  There is all the organization in the world to get on these planes, but none to get off them.  Getting home from Cúcuta and Valledupar, I noticed that people, once that airplane stops, get up and make a mad dash for the front.  It doesn't matter if they're bumping into people in the aisle seat, knocking over old ladies, whatever... they just have to be first off that plane.  I remember particularly after the Valledupar flight, I was in like the 15th row, but probably 90% of the people behind me got off well before I did.  I even stood in the aisle, just waiting for someone to give me enough space to get out... no luck.  Nonetheless, I politely let out about three or four old ladies/kids who had as bad of luck as I did before leaving the plane.

3.  Restaurants

This one leads me to believe that Colombians have no concept of the value of lines.  I was at a Juan Valdez in Chapinero the other day, waiting to snag a coffee and a delicious pan de chocolate, when suddenly this middle-aged woman decides to walk alongside me, and then in front of me.  Here I was, waiting patiently for the doofus in front of me to decide whether he wanted his breakfast heated or not (looked like he was putting a lot of thought into it), and a professionally-dressed, middle-aged woman decides that I must not be in line.  When the guy in front of me finished, and the woman (now in front of me) started ahead, I threw my hands up and slapped them against my legs in exasperation.  Even the girl at the counter looked at me like, "I know you were in front of her."  The woman wheeled back at me, giving me a "What's your problem?" look.  At this point I could have said, "Did you forget your lessons when you were a child, such as... I don't know... standing in line when you want something?"  Unfortunately, my sarcasm doesn't translate well to Spanish, so I waved her by, irritated.  This seems to be common in fast-food restaurants... if you're not breathing down the neck of the person in front of you, someone will assume they can just cut the line in front of you.

4.  TransMilenio

The TransMi easily makes me the most angry, as I need to use it almost every day.  I can understand that, because there is a wide door that slides open every time a bus stops, that there will be a group of people huddled at the front, not in any single-file line.  What happens when those doors open, however, is pure chaos:  people lose their morals.  I've seen grannies shoved, little kids nearly trampled, and people standing in the way of the entrance because they want the next bus so they can sit down.  The last group is the biggest pain in the ass:  none of these people are ever particularly old, but they will stand in the entrance and block the passage for the people who have no problem standing on the first bus.  There should be some sort of rule that, if you're waiting for the next bus, you should stand off to the side or something.  It is unacceptable that I have to find my inner John Riggins or Larry Csonka just to get on a bus that people aren't actually boarding.

Anyways, it's truly strange how you can meet Bogotanos on the street, and they'll be some of the nicest and helpful people you'll ever meet, especially to this perpetually lost gringo.  Then, at the moment that they have to wait for something, it becomes a competition of "Me first!  Me first!"  It's like we all threw out the rules we learned in kindergarten.  I was always taught that you allow ladies and children to go first, not to stand still on a crowded sidewalk, and to say "Excuse me" if you bump into someone.  With those manners in this city, sometimes I feel like a real chump.

Cúcuta: The Closest I've Ever Been to a Real Border...

One wonderful thing about Colombia is the relative ease that exists flying between city to city.  About ten days ago I bought a plane ticket to Cúcuta, looking for another small adventure to fulfill the promise to keep seeing new cities.  So, on Friday morning, I slept in a little, packed a bag, said goodbye to my apartment, hopped in the cab and took off.

Cúcuta is located in the northern part of Colombia, just a few kilometers from the Venezuela border.  Like Valledupar, it has a normally hot climate, therefore I was in no way prepared when I left Bogotá.  As you might be able to gather, it rains a lot here in the capital, and it never really gets warm, so any exposure to heat is pretty rough to start out for me.  I arrived at the airport around 3:30, a little behind schedule due to the epic rainstorm we got in Bogotá as the flight was trying to leave.  Looking at the back of the seat in front of me, included with a map and local weather conditions, I found that Cúcuta's afternoon temperature was around 35 degrees Celsius, or about 95 Fahrenheit.  Let the sweat fest commence...

My friend Emily couldn't come to get me at the airport because she works on Fridays, but her sister Rocío found me after I picked up my bags.  Walking outside, I felt a similar situation to how the Pitt CLAS Seminar group felt landing in São Luís do Maranhão for the first time in 2012.  The best way I can describe it is that it's a "wall of heat." When I say wall, I mean that you actually slow down for a moment, because you feel like you've walked into something solid.  Regardless, I pushed on, and we drove to the city.

Emily's family, between her sister, mom and dad, run a few small cafés throughout the city.  Therefore, I spent part of the afternoon at her mom's café, sipping on an orange juice, and then made my way to her dad's bakery, where I had a bottle of water and a croissant.  Immediately I knew that there was going to be a lot of food involved in this weekend trip, as Emily's mom (Doña Amparo) quizzed me on what Colombian foods I had tried since my arrival.  As you can probably imagine, the more "no's" she received, the more things she told me that she and her employees would make for me before I left.  I would try sancocho, hallaca, and many other goodies before the trip home.

A few observations about Cúcuta:

1.  As a border town, it has a lot of influence from Venezuela.  Therefore, over half the cars in the area are from Venezuela, made clear by their license plates.

2.  It is common practice in Cúcuta for Venezuelans to bring cheap, contraband Venezuelan gasoline across the border to sell in Colombia for a fraction of the Colombian price.  As Venezuela subsidizes its oil and gasoline heavily for domestic consumption, people have found a way to make a business of it as the Venezuelan economy deteriorates, as in recent years.

3.  For the size of the city (around 600,000 according to Wikipedia), it doesn't seem all that big.  I guess it's similar to Bogotá in this regard, which feels like a bunch of medium-sized cities smushed together.  Cúcuta was like a lot of neighborhoods put together without an easily discernible center.  You have shopping centers in different parts of the city, which are usually located near nightclubs and bars.  Nonetheless, you could tell that a lot of business happens there, as it is not far from Colombia's fifth-largest city, Bucaramanga, and close to the Venezuelan border.  Lots of business, lots of people...

Emily and her friends took me out both nights I was in the city, and I must admit, it was a LOT of fun.  I'm always nervous about going out with Colombians, as I'm not a great dancer and can bore people really quickly.  However, the girls tried (and succeeded) to keep me up on my feet dancing, and it was a great time.  The second night we went to a nightclub and sipped on rum while dancing to all kinds of Colombian music, like salsa, bachata, and even a little bit of cumbia!

On Sunday I went with Emily and her friend Ruth to have lunch with some of Ruth's family, and we took a little trip up to a small town about half an hour away, called Chinácota.  There we walked around a very small city, enjoyed some desserts, took a look at a ranch house that Ruth's family wanted to buy, and then headed back out.  It was nice to make a stop there, especially considering that the town was nestled in the mountains, meaning the temperature was easily 15 degrees Fahrenheit less than the big city.  I can never pass up a cool breeze...

Finally, after returning to Emily's, it was time to pack up and head home.  I had some pizza with Emily, Ruth, Eliana and Arnold before getting to the airport, and then it was time to say goodbye.  Interesting thing about Cúcuta:  at the airport, you are required to get a $5 exit stamp on your plane ticket, purchased directly after checking in for a flight.  Fortunately, the guy who did my check-in spoke a little bit of English and was able to explain it to me clearly.  This is one thing, however, that I know I'm going to have to be aware of if I go to cities outside of Colombia.  Anyways, I had a wonderful time in Cúcuta, and I apologize for having waited so long to write this entry.  It's just that I've been so busy this beginning of the week (not to mention just a little lazy).  I'll post something else at the end of this week.  Happy Wednesday!

Bogotá's Early Bedtime

One thing that has amazed me so far on this trip is how "industrious" of a city Bogotá is.  I've been to a few different cities in Latin America, all of which were pretty good sized; however, never have I seen so many people heading home so early, and waking up before the crack of dawn, outside of Pittsburgh.  I'm writing this as my Wednesday entry because Wednesday is normally the night that I'm out the latest, besides on weekends.  I have a class from 5:00pm to 8:00pm, so I find myself rolling into Chapinero around 8:45 at night.  Most Pittsburghers would ask themselves in this situation, "Hmm... McDonalds... pizza... Primanti's... Subway... what's on the menu tonight?"

If a large, clumsy young man tumbles to the ground on the wet pavement, and no one is around to see or hear, does he make a sound?

It's quite funny to look at the UniAndes neighborhood at 7:50, as I'm leaving the school.  At 8:00 in Pittsburgh, you still have a healthy crowd circulating in and out during night classes, not to mention hitting restaurants in Oakland hard, but here seems to be a ghost town.  I figure crime has a great deal to do with it, but it's just sad to me because of all the potential that there could be if the area were just a bit safer.  It would also make getting on the TransMilenio D70 about ten times easier, as people wouldn't be shoving like crazy to get on the bus to get the heck out of La Candelaria.

This is a time when American football skills come quite in handy...

My life here certainly doesn't come with that many options.  Chapinero is noticeably dark by about 6:30.  By the time 8:00 rolls around, nearly every store front on Calle 72 in my neighborhood is either closed or closing, and I'm left to fend for myself with either street vendors or a lukewarm empanada from a nearby cafeteria.  It's not that I don't like the street vendors and the greasy, salty arepas that come off their grills:  it's just that it gets old after a couple nights.  What I haven't tried, though, are the dozen sauces that all the vendors have sitting on top of the grills.  Really, I need to figure out which one is the spicy one...

8:30 pm... c'mon, man.  I've seen bigger traffic jams in Williamsport.

Now it's 9:00, and I'm with even less options.  Many of the vendors are even going home, the last grocery store in the neighborhood has closed, and the bologna and cheese in my fridge at home are starting to look better alongside the $1 loaf of bread I have perched on top of the fridge.  Nonetheless, I find a small cafeteria that (miraculously) sells liter-and-a-half bottles of water at the inflated price of 3,500 pesos, so I bite.  Throw an arepa con chorizo on top of that, and dinner is served.  Not exactly a dinner of champions, but hey, I had a big lunch, so my stomach isn't complaining.

Wednesday night into Thursday is usually the hardest for me because I have night class on Wednesday, only to have to wake up and go to early morning class on Thursday.  When I don't have work due in either class, it's not a big deal; however, when I've got papers to turn in or other articles to read, sleep is a hot commodity on Wednesday nights.  Bogotanos seem to share my Thursday morning dragging, as I find that Thursday is one of the more difficult days to get to school, even when I get to the bus stop early.  I've got to give them credit, though:  they're up and ready to go far earlier than I can say most Pittsburghers are, and they are slowly making me more into a morning person once again, like I was in high school.  Anyways, I'll leave you all for now.  Enjoy the rest of your week!

Rainstorms... Hell Hath No Fury Here...

So in a few other previous blog posts, I've talked at length about how much I like the weather here in Bogotá.  We've had dry days, some cloudy, some sunny, but on balance pleasant to go back and forth between school and other parts of the city.  Over the past few days, however, we've just been getting hammered with rain, almost at the same time of the day.  Today I had the misfortune of doing my usual Tuesday chore, laundry, a little later in the day.  Usually I go at 8:30 or 9:30, but this morning I had to tutor a little bit, so I pushed it back.  Anyways, I made it to the laundromat around 12:30.  From there, I always give the washerwomen about an hour and forty-five minutes to get everything done, then I pay them and go.

I think God was playing with me a little today.  I sat at Juan Valdez Coffee, my usual waiting spot while I'm passing time waiting for my laundry, and I noticed that, gradually, the sky got darker and grayer.  Tapping away at my Kindle, I saw that there were thunderstorms in the forecast, but it didn't specify when.  Leaving the coffee shop around 2:00, I made it to the laundromat under, shall we say, a light drizzle.  Ok, I thought to myself, if it can just stay like this for about the next 30 minutes, I'll be a happy man...

Remember how I said God was playing with me?  As I waited the final five minutes for my laundry to cycle out of the dryer, I saw the rain start to pick up.  I started to see the drops falling from the sky in neat lines, then saw massive levels of puddling as the intensity picked up.  Paying for my laundry, I told the washerwomen to have a nice day, and to keep a good thought that I *might* stay dry.

As I waddled out of the laundromat, fifteen-pound sack of clothing over my shoulder, I noticed that I understated the fact that the rain was picking up earlier.  By the time I had reached the next block, my shoulders were soaked.  Standing under a bus terminal for about five minutes, I quickly grew frustrated at the fact that every car driving by had driven just fast enough to splash my pantlegs and parts of my lower body, so I made a daring sprint across Carrera 7.  For those of you who know, I'm big and awkward when it comes to running to begin with... imagine me with a bag full of laundry over one side!  It's probably a bit like watching the Frankenstein monster in fast forward...

Anyways, I made it across the street miraculously without falling on my butt, and walked along the sidewalk as close to the buildings as I could.  The rain managed to kick it up yet another notch, making small rivers near the sidewalk.  Finding a canopy near a small breakfast hut, I stopped with my laundry and just stood in awe.  We've had some pretty intense rainstorms in Bogotá in the past week, and this one pulled no punches.  Annoyed with the persistence of this storm, I walked into the cafeteria and got myself a croissant and iced tea, hoping to wait it out.  After a good 20 minutes, the rain subsided, and I was able to walk the remaining three blocks to the TransMilenio.

Without rain, my walk to the laundromat is usually quite easy.  It's when flood-like conditions emerge that such a venture becomes a living hell.  This past weekend, I went with my friend Harrys to buy this:

I love this jersey, and it will be something I treasure from Colombia for the rest of my life.  Anyways, we were talking about rain... after lunch, Harrys and I walked over to Juan Valdez to get a coffee; and, wouldn't you know it, yet another spontaneous downpour.  Fortunately, this time I had a coat, and while my head was drenched, my body wasn't so much.  In addition, thank God for my closet, as I have room to hang up just about anything I need.  In the meantime, though, a coffee was exactly what I needed to cure a good dampening:

We must be entering into some sort of rainy season here in the capital, because I just can't seem to get enough of the afternoon storms.  At least we should expect some leafy green trees and flowers, though, when the sun comes out, right?  In the meantime, I'm going to have to invest in either some sort of waterproof jacket other than my GSPIA one, and/or an umbrella.  If I could only find an umbrella that didn't have flowers or polka dots on it, I'd have had one today.  Alas, hopefully I remember that I need one the next time I visit a mall... anyways, that's it for today.  As I dry off and fold my clothes, I hope all of your respective weeks are drier and (if not) comfortably contained by umbrellas and rain slickers.  Have a good one!

A Little Bit More about Where I Live

In the first few weeks here, I've heard some pretty funny questions from my American friends regarding where I live.  "Does your neighbor wear a poncho and walk around with a pet donkey?" "Do you have coconut water every morning for breakfast?" "Are any of your classmates supermodels?" The list goes on.  Colombia is a bit of a trail less traveled by my fellow compatriots, so I can understand the lack of knowledge.  That being said, I snapped a few pictures this morning, so I'll try my best to share with you guys a little bit more about my living situation.

Neighborhood:  Chapinero

As I mentioned in a previous post, Bogotá is situated in the mountains.  Therefore, the climate here is neither tropical nor desert conditions.  In spite of the thinner air, it's quite comfortable every day, except for when it rains.  Like any other major city, Bogotá has its good neighborhoods and bad ones.  The neighborhoods near my school, for instance, are not very good to walk around in after 8pm.  Fortunately, I find myself in Chapinero, a nice section of town populated mostly by college students and young professionals.  I'm literally a five-minute walk from the Transmilenio terminal, which means a ride to school doesn't set me back too much time.  The streets are pretty tight here, but at no point are you far from an arepa or empanada stand in the neighborhood.  I'm also a stone's throw from Calle 72, one of Bogotá's busiest streets.

On Sunday mornings, the streets are pretty empty, but one of the cool things about the area (and the city in general) is the presence of the Ciclovía on Sundays:  every Sunday, from 7am-2pm, the authorities close off a part of some of Bogotá's major streets for cyclists and runners to take advantage of the space.  Though I haven't gotten to run on the streets, it's definitely on my to-do list in the next couple months.  Comparing the area to Pittsburgh, think of Chapinero on Sunday mornings to Oakland or Shadyside.  It's pretty peaceful, and the busiest times are for the most part dependent on the work day.

My street is about a block and a half from the busy Carrera 14, where you find the Transmilenio, running parallel.  It only goes about two blocks before a group of houses breaks up the street.  My apartment is on the left in the picture, connected with the driveway in front of the car pictured.  I live on the second floor of a duplex house, sharing the floor with five other people.  My room is pretty small:  more or less a cell with a desk and a bed.  However, I've never been a person who needed a lot of space to function, and so the apartment totally serves its purpose.

Finally, I snapped a picture of the church where I attend Mass on Sundays.  It's located on the Calle 72, about a 3-4 minute walk from my apartment.  It's a Franciscan church, doing about half a dozen Masses on Sundays (this particular week, I went to the 9am).  It's a great start to my Sunday, especially on such a beautiful day as this!  Overall, I'm still learning how the prayers go in Spanish, but for now it's nice to listen along.  I hope all of you are enjoying your weekend, and I'll post some more about my weekend and the upcoming week later.  Take care!

Street Food, American Food, and Learning to Value Drinks

Fourth week of being here, and I'm starting to set in stone a diet.  With thrice-a-week visits to the gym, along with relying on just bottled water and fruit juice, I think I'm starting to get over the Christmas bloating.  Nonetheless, there are plenty of foods here that can set you back towards big-guy status, a few of which I'll share here.

Street Food:  Arepas, sausages, "super" hamburgers, hot dogs, empanadas

They tell you before you even come here to get a Hepatitis A booster shot because of the food and/or liquids that you could consume here during your stay.  The first recommendation I would give to any traveler considering getting a quick meal off the street is to make sure that it's cooked.  I thought fresh-squeezed orange juice off the street here was a great idea until I found myself running to the bathroom a little bit more than usual over the next few days.  Granted, I could have eaten or consumed something else that upset my stomach, but I'm blaming the orange juice because everything else I had either at a restaurant or a school cafeteria during those days.

Nonetheless, I still grab something quick for dinner if I'm not looking to stretch my wallet a given night.  I had an arepa con carne the other night, pictured above, and it had to be one of the most delicious yet unhealthy things I've consumed since being here.  They take an arepa, essentially a poofy tortilla made of maize, and stuff it with cheese, a little lunch meat and shredded beef.  They then butter and salt both sides and serve it in a sleeve.  For about $1.40, I had enough to fill me for the night.  Earlier this week I also tried some beef and chicken empanadas, sold on the Calle 72 and nearby for no more than about $.50/empanada.  Usually two or three will do for me, balanced with some fruit and water.

American food:  Subway, Friday's, Papa John's

One of the biggest surprises, as I've mentioned in another blog entry, was the number of American restaurants I have found in Bogotá, as opposed to what I ever saw in Brazil either time being there.  Subway is my usual go-to on nights where I'm feeling like having a sandwich with ingredients that I can see.  They have a pretty decent deal down here, too:  for about $3.50, they offer a 6" sub of the day.  Although the variety isn't as wide, you can still make out pretty well with a good sandwich at an affordable price.  In fact, last night I had a chicken breast sandwich with provolone and all the veggies/peppers.  It ended up being pretty tasty, though I wish I could find some hot sauce or something to throw on sandwiches down here.

Earlier this semester, I've also made stops at Papa John's and Friday's, whose menus are basically the same as the U.S.  At Friday's, they don't have as much of a variety, but it's expected that Colombians don't know about the 20 kinds of cheeseburgers and dozens of appetizers that you can get at a typical Friday's in the States.  Nonetheless, my burger was pretty good there.  Papa John's cheese pizza tastes almost exactly the same, too.

Value Your Drink

I always forget about refills in other countries, as opposed to the United States.  In most American restaurants, fountain drinks (sodas, iced tea, water) are bottomless... not the case here.  You finish your 12 oz. glass of Coca-Cola here, you're coughing up another buck each time you feel you need a new one.  It's probably one reason why wait staff doesn't start people off here with drinks and bring them a half hour before the food is served.  I've found that they come with the drinks just minutes before the food comes.  Beer is generally cheaper at these restaurants than in the States, and so usually I pay the extra $.50 to get a domestic beer to go with dinner here, unless it's a food I just never mix with beer.

Another note:  while I used to rave at length about how cheap alcohol could be in Brazil, you don't necessarily find the equivalent in Colombia.  You're still coughing up $5 for a six-pack of mediocre beer in Colombian supermarkets.  Bar prices seem to be about the same as in the States, unless (obviously) you find yourself in a craft beer place, and the house brews tend to be more.  Nonetheless, I haven't been drinking nearly as much as back home in Pittsburgh, so I still have some experience to gain if I want to comment at length on beer/alcohol here.  These are just preliminary notes/perspectives.

Anyways, I'll be doing school work all weekend and maybe enjoying myself a little a night, so I'll try to post something on Monday or Tuesday if something interesting happens.  Otherwise, hope everyone has a great weekend!  See you later.

Valledupar: Heat, Hanging Out with Priests, and A Journey

So this past weekend I decided to take a little journey outside of Bogotá.  I flew north to a small city called Valledupar, situated just a few hours southeast of the Caribbean coast.  It's a quiet city of about 350,000, spread out quite extensively, not so many tall buildings.  As it is in the north of the country, away from the Andes, it is a much warmer city than Bogotá, and that was one thing I certainly had to get used to.  I arrived Thursday night around 7:00pm, about an hour after sunset, so at the very least I wasn't dealing with an overpowering sun the moment I got off the plane.  Sure, the air was a bit muggy, but the trade-off was that it was much cleaner than the fumes I regularly inhale on a crowded Bogotá street.

My parish priest and a dear friend from home, Father Paul Fontanella, met me at the airport with a fellow priest from the Valledupar area, Padre Audrey.  Thursday night I had dinner with them and enjoyed company with a group of priests either affiliated with the parish next door or with the local seminary.  I also met the dog of the rectory, Toby, a Yellow Lab with about the same amount of energy as my Black Lab back home.  He had a good weekend gnawing on my arm every time I tried to pet him.  Father Paul, excellent cook that he is, made a pasta dish for the group, the first time I've had pasta since leaving the States... unfortunately, I did not take a picture.

On Friday, we made a trip just a few minutes south to a gated, upper-middle class community outside of Valledupar.  There we stayed the day with a couple and their kids, a family I learned was connected to the church.  After a three-course meal and some swimming, I was pretty spent.  This was the first day I experienced the Valledupar sun, and it didn't disappoint.  Though I didn't get burned, I felt an immediate connection to the sun I endured while living in São Luís, Maranhão, back in 2012.  There I also tried a whiskey native to Valledupar named Upar, after the tribal chief whose name works itself into the city's name (Valley of Upar).  I was impressed with the taste, and might have to bring a bottle home once June comes around.

When Saturday rolled around (and, for certain, more heat), I went on a short journey with Father Paul and Padre Audrey north of the city.  There, after driving through unpaved conditions and lots of small mountains, we made it to a small village called Atánquez.  Atánquez is a town of about 300, situated about 50 kilometers north of Valledupar (rough estimate).  There we walked around the main square of the village, talked to a few locals, saw the local church, and learned a bit about the area in general. The area, though not touched a whole lot by the local authorities, is absolutely beautiful, even in its dry season.  Lots of small creeks and rivers cover the landscape, and you can even see one of Colombia's tallest mountains in the distance, the Sierra Nevada.  Believe it or not, even in Colombia, you can even see snow at the top of that mountain.

That night I met my friend Liz and her friends and spent time with them.  Although it was an early bed time for me on Saturday night, it was still nice to touch base with someone who I met through teaching English.  I've helped Liz on and off with her English for the past couple months.  We dug into a massive plate called salchipapa, a heap of salad-like deliciousness complete with sausage, french fries, vegetables, cheese and sauce. I met up with them again on Sunday, but not long before I had to prepare to head back to Bogotá.  There we had a couple beers and talked a lot about my country, especially colleges and the food and such.

Sunday was also a day for some spiritual renewal.  Rising early as I've done the entire time in Colombia, I went next door to the church for 7:00am Mass.  I was there maybe ten minutes early:  by the time the Mass started, the place was jammed.  I was amazed that, as early as it was, half of the people in attendance were families with children.  In the States, usually early Mass is for the older folks and not well attended.  Anyways, I felt a very strong spirituality in attending a full church that early, and to me it reflected a commitment on the part of a community, something I had not seen much in Brazil or Colombia until now.

I'm very sorry for getting this up late.  I've been re-adjusting and busy the past couple days, so to finally be back in the saddle feels good.  I'll try to write again this week before reflecting on whatever I do this coming weekend.  Either way, I'll post pictures to show you all what I've been doing.  Have a great Wednesday!

Fun Weekend around the City!

Wow, lots to do this past weekend, and it led to a crash nap late Monday morning after class.  I got to spend some quality time with friends, while getting to know some of the best of Bogotá.  Let's go ahead and start with Friday.

Friday:  Beer Station, Calle 116

So Friday wasn't a terribly interesting day.  I managed to go to the gym in the morning, and this time I felt a little better after the workout.  Nonetheless, I returned home after lunch, read for a while, and then took a nap.  Later, my friend Maria Paula invited me to Beer Station, a restaurant with locations all over Bogotá and in other Colombian cities.  Despite an epic rainstorm on the bus ride/taxi ride up to the place, we still got to Beer Station and didn't have to wait too long for an inside table.  I continue to be impressed by the quality of craft beers in Bogotá:  between visiting Bogotá Beer Company in La Candelaria on the first day of orientation and here, I never expected to find this stuff anywhere in South America.  Bogotá has proven me wrong.  Anyways, I had two different kinds of beer at the restaurant:  the Calima Roja and Tayrona Rubia.  I highly recommend the Roja, and the Rubia was ok too.

Saturday:  Andrés D.C., Calle 82

One thing I forgot to mention about Friday was that I met a friend for lunch who studied at my high school way back in 2008, my senior year.  I didn't know Felipe that well back then, but I got into contact with him after arriving in Bogotá.  He invited me to a birthday party Saturday night at a really nice bar a bit north of my apartment, Andrés D.C.  Like Beer Station, Andrés has locations in other parts of the country, but it's still a place to be on Saturday nights in the capital.  Fortunately, the birthday party had a table, and we were comfortable for the night.  As Felipe promised, the place filled up pretty good around 10pm, and then started to level off around 12:30.  He and his friends, for the most part, were from Cali, and I learned that caleños like to party well beyond the 3:00am cut-off for most Bogotá locations.  Kind of reminds me of Brazil a little bit...

In addition to having drinks, they all hit the dance floor and brought me along for a good chunk of it.  As most of you know, I am NOT a particularly good dancer, though I try, especially when a little bit of tequila is involved.  Caleños like to dance salsa, which involves all kinds of quick steps and spinning:  safe to say, my head was spinning after watching the first couple songs.  However, they were all really helpful, and I actually learned how to do a few simple things with salsa dancing.  By about 1:30, I was spent, and subsequently got a cab home.  Hopefully, sometime in the future, I can meet up with them again.

Sunday:  Usaquén and Family Lunch (Fontibon)

On Sunday, after church, I took the bus up to Usaquén to meet an American friend who helped me look for places in Bogotá.  She took me over to Usaquén, a former town now part of the capital.  This area is known for its old buildings and streets, as well as a pretty large fair that sells all sorts of arts and crafts and food.   I took some pictures with my camera, but I'm going to have to wait to be able to upload them, as I'm without my USB cord.  Anyways, I tried some food down there and had a look at the different things for sale, but I will be headed back there at least once before I leave for the States, as I saw some interesting gift ideas.

After Usaquén (way up in the 100's of streets), I elected to take the brutally long F1 Transmilenio bus ride to the Banderas stop, close to where my friend Harrys lives, in Fontibon.  On Sundays, the Transmilenio tends to be several degrees less convenient through the week:  unfortunately for me, I picked up the bus that has to stop at every stop on its way.  You can imagine, after a good 20-25 stops, how crowded a bus with capacity 160 can get, especially as people were headed basically the same direction I was.  Anyways, after I lost a good 45 minutes, I finally made it to the Banderas stop, and Harrys and his brother found me there.

Eating with Harrys' family was a great time.  Though I can't remember all their names (that's going to take a couple more lunches through the next five months), they were very friendly and inquisitive.  They wanted to know what I was in Bogotá for, where I was studying, what I was studying, how I got connected to Harrys, what parts of Colombia I had already visited, etc.  After lunch, I went out to the park next to the apartment and played soccer on asphalt.  It was yet another reminder that breathing at 8,500 feet can be lots of work, especially on a full stomach.  Anyways, I surprised myself:  not only did I not die, but I managed to score a couple fluky goals and make a couple lucky saves.  After dessert and a couple glasses of lemonade, it was time to go, and I got back home to teach around ten minutes after 7:00.

After such a jam-packed weekend, I was grateful to be done with my class today after 10:00.  It gave me a chance to recharge in the early afternoon, in a clean room that the maid already touched up before I arrived.  I'll be sure to write again this week, as I'll be keeping up with the gym and trying new foods and preparing to go to VALLEDUPAR on Thursday!  Talk to you all later.

Laundry, Printing, Gym, etc.

Wow, the end of my first week of classes down here in Bogotá!  I still feel like I just arrived... maybe I'm still not quite accustomed to the Andean air, who knows?  I only had three classes, and they flew pretty quickly in spite of my brain's inability to comprehend three hours of Spanish in one sitting each time.  I have a little bit of homework (reading) to do this weekend, but I'm not that worried about it.  In spite of the work, let me share with you some more highlights of the tail end of the work week.

Laundry:  One mildly irritating thing about the Chapinero neighborhood is its ostensible lack of laundromats, or even full clothes-washing services.  I assume everyone must have washers/dryers in their homes/apartments, because I broke down to the point that I had to ask my landlady to help me find a place. She found one... but I never said anything about it being close.  There is a laundry service about 16 blocks south of my apartment, and another six blocks east.  Safe to say, I had to bus it there.  I want to give a big thank-you to all the people who did not bust out laughing at the kid on the Transmilenio who clogged up the aisle with a loaded laundry bag.  That's one small step for kindness, one giant leap for public decency.  Even when I made it Calle 57's terminal, I still had to hike six blocks east to get to the laundry service.  Those people along the way deserve a shout-out too for not getting all pissed off as I smacked them with a swinging sack of dirty clothes.

So I arrived at the place around five after eight (so much pride in waking up on a morning that I didn't have class!).  The website said they were open from like 8:00-7:00, so I figured I'd be their first customer... that would be incorrect.  They had a sign on the front door that gently pointed out that they were *still* on holiday hours, meaning they wouldn't open through the week until 9:00.  Great.  Now I've gotta find something to do for an hour and come back.  So, laundry in hand, I hike it over to a Juan Valdez Coffee and enjoy a delicious muffin and coffee while I explore the cheapie smartphone I bought last week.  After devouring about eight websites' worth of news, 9:00 rolled around.  Yay!  Now I can go drop off my clothes... wrong again.  Ten minutes after nine, the doors still weren't open.  What to do?  Still with clothes in hand, I walked back down to Carrera 7 and sat down at a local café for a big bottle of water.  I was dehydrated, so why not pump my body full of H2O to help me cope with the workout of carrying 20 pounds' worth of clothes?  Finally, around 9:45 I walked back over, and the place was open.

The one good thing about getting my laundry done was that one of the washerwomen in the place offered to switch over the loads for me to dry them, so I could have an hour and a half to myself.  Still satisfied with Transmilenio prices, I went home for a little while.  Ninety minutes and about $12 later, I had clean clothes.  It wasn't the cheapest venture, but I'll take it as a nice trade-off for all the cheap lunches and bus fares I've experienced.  Hopefully, in the future, I can find a more efficient way to get my clothes cleaned.  If not, this will be my typical Tuesday morning for the time being.

Going to the Gym:  Yeah, time to get back in shape!!!... not quite.  As you have heard from me before, Bogotá sits about 8,500 feet above sea level, so while getting into shape is a noble venture, the first couple times going to the gym have little to do with trying to regain muscle mass and boosting cardio.  The first time I stepped on a treadmill at the UniAndes campus, I reminded myself of how much I had to climb just to be able to get to the place.  I'm not even just talking about a physical climb... to be honest, it was a mental one.  Once I arrived at the gym on Wednesday morning, immediately I discover that there's a little more to entering the Centro Deportivo than just handing them your ID card.  No, no, no... in fact, not only do you have to visit the guy in the equipment room whose computer is the only thing organized amid a room of jerseys and equipment strewn all over the floor, but the guy hands me a medical interview form!  Incredible.  So now I have to take this form to another guy in another room to announce that, yeah, unfortunately, I'm a little overweight.  Still, no one needs to freak out when I decide to hit the cardio for a little while, at least I hope not.

Finally, after dealing with layers of bureaucracy just to enter the gym, I entered the gym.  UniAndes' gym is surprisingly... small.  I mean, it's a MASSIVE building, don't get me wrong.  However, floors two and three are dedicated more to low-intensity activities, such as pool (not the watery kind, that's on the fifth floor) and table tennis.  Fourth floor has treadmills, spinning bikes and tumbling/martial arts, and fifth floor has the weight room and what looked like places to use an elliptical.  Showering is kind of a mess, as 90% of the lockers aren't actually located in the locker room, but rather, out in the hall.  I had to do some magic to be able to get changed without losing anything along the way.  The whole experience makes me miss the Baierl Rec Center at the Pete, crowded-ness and all, but nonetheless I push on, as I need to get into shape.  I've been to the gym now two different times:  Thursday and Friday.  I did notice, at least, that running got a little easier on Friday, but recovery afterwards was still the same.  I found myself breathing semi-heavily just walking down the hill to get back on campus.  Fortunately, I've found some places to walk where less people can see me wheeze on a typical morning.

Printing:  As with most of my experiences with Latin American universities, one distinct advantage is that you're not shelling out your first grandchild's inheritance to buy your textbooks each semester.  Generally professors will ask you to photocopy chapters of given books, and it's your responsibility to find it in a vocabulary or some other external (away-from-university) source.  In UniAndes' case, they have this nice little shop called HaceCopias, which is about half a block away from the Mario Laserna Building, essentially UniAndes' home base.  Although the print shop is convenient in that you can get most (I emphasize, most) of your reading materials from there if you need to photocopy them, it doesn't mean it's cheap.  I had to put up another $12 just to get the week's worth of reading materials for two of my classes.  I'm on my own for the third:  fortunately, I found articles for that class using Google Scholar and PittNet+.  The lady there was pretty friendly, and laughed when I told her where I was from and what I was doing at the school.  Apparently my Spanglish was amusing to her.

As I rush to catch yet another Transmilenio bus to get the hell home, I remember that it's a privilege to be down here.  I'm representing my school and my country in a place that, as I've heard, doesn't see as many Americans around as I originally thought.  Nonetheless, the city's been good pretty far, and I have not only learned a lot about it, but also a lot about what I'm made of.  This is truly a study abroad experience that is already making lasting memories.  I wish all of my Pittsburgh friends a good night from Bogotá, and I hope you all stay warm!  And to all of my friends outside of Bogotá and Pittsburgh, that you all sleep well too!  I'll be updating again next week with more amusing blog entries.

Food and Prices and Whatnot

So I've officially cleared one week here in Bogotá, and things are going pretty well.  I've lived relatively frugally the past few days, opting to eat out just once a day while downing the occasional mortadella/cheese sandwich to hold me over during the other meals.  One Friday afternoon, however, I decided to go a little over the edge and try the local fare.  I found myself getting stuffed over the dish above, called bandeja paisa.  While it may not seem like a lot of food on this mediocre-sized plate, I can assure you that it's far more filling than you can imagine.  The rice and beans are hard to finish off in the end, and the meat, egg and arepa in the middle were more than I bargained for.  Nonetheless, I polished it all off, much to the amazement of my friends, and I promptly fell down on my bed at home for a nice nap once I got there.

Speaking of bandeja paisa, it was also most likely the most expensive meal I've eaten here in Bogotá so far.  Anthony Bourdain wasn't lying in Parts Unknown when he said that people from Bogotá enjoy eating out, especially for lunch.  I can see why:  it's no secret that you can get a relatively filling lunch for the equivalent of about 7,500 pesos, or about $4.50.  That includes meat, rice, a couple different kinds of salad, soup and a glass of juice.  I can live with corrientazo for the time being, for sure.  In addition to restaurants, I've found that the basic necessities in the grocery store are affordable as well.  I can get a pack of lunch meat ham and sliced cheese for under $5 as well, and up to this point it's like making sandwiches American-style. Liter-and-a-half bottles of water rarely graze $1.25, making it easy to stay hydrated in my apartment (My apartment, unfortunately, doesn't have a kitchen sink, which means I won't be enjoying Bogotá's renowned tap water anytime soon).  The bus rides on the TransMilenio are pretty cheap too:  at between 1,400 and 1,700 pesos per ride (both under $1), it's not hard to get around the city.  If I make a mistake somewhere in transit, I don't have to pay for another ride until I physically leave the terminal area anywhere.  It has its inefficiencies, but it's very good for the time being.

Wikipedia's picture, but same exact weather conditions during my walk!

Today was also the day that I went to the DAS building about 30 blocks north of my apartment (Calle 100) to apply for my cédula de extranjería.  I got there nice and early, as I figured the bulk of their traffic would arrive right before lunch time.  The process was pretty self-explanatory:  as I had all the documents in line, I just had to fill out a form and turn it in with my documents.  Beyond that, however, the wait was a bit silly. I had to wait a good 30 minutes for someone to bring me into a room to fingerprint me, which I didn't mind much because that kind of thing takes time for any customer.  However, after that, I was sent to the third floor to wait for them to turn my passport back over to me.  There I waited about 90 minutes for someone at a desk to stamp my passport, write a couple symbols in it that I didn't understand, and tell me to come back in 15 days to get the physical card.  I took 90 minutes out of my day just in transit to take care of that, and gave up another 2-3 hours of my time waiting for them to take care of my passport.  That's one aspect of Colombian bureaucracy that could do better, in my eyes.

Other than that, I don't have much else to report today.   Tomorrow I'm going to try my hand at laundry, as I'm running low on socks and underwear and need to resolve that pronto.  I bought a small bottle of what looks like Colombia's answer to Tide, so I should be golden. Then I have class tomorrow night.  Talk to you all later!