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.
Friday, March 28, 2014
Thursday, March 27, 2014
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.
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!
Wednesday, March 26, 2014
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!
Monday, March 17, 2014
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!
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!
Saturday, March 8, 2014
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.
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.
Wednesday, March 5, 2014
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!
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!
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