Bogota 4: Robbery, Hapkido, Amazon Rain, and Eviction
Post date: Sep 27, 2010 7:06:55 PM
9-27-10
I spoke with a Colombiano this week who is studying business administration, specializing in fitness clubs. He said, however, that he is unlikely to succeed at that venture here in Colombia, and that he must expand his career interests to include other forms of business. Why? Because Colombians are not tremendously interested in exercising. I have seen two clubs here in Bogota, and I even attended a capoeira class at one, but the people I see attending these facilities must be exceptions to the rule. I saw this as one reason why my hapkido classes have had such low turnout. What surprises me is that probably over 50% of the population have been mugged in Bogota. What psychology is at work to inhibit people from learning to defend themselves from such attacks? I wonder if it is linked to the generally laid back philosophy of this culture. As my Mexican City host, the Brit Gary Diamond, said, the people here practice a “No Fear” philosophy. This was in response to my concern that none of the restaurant cooks wear plastic gloves to prevent the spread of germs. Perhaps if you pretend long enough that something doesn’t exist, it will eventually disappear. It is the same in behavior modification. If your child is whining for more Coca Cola, ignoring the whining will eventually extinguish the behavior. But does that apply to violent, personal robberies? Maybe it works if you say, “I don’t have a headache. I feel fine.” What are the limits to our self-deception? What power does our mind possess to shape the world around us?
I will have a hard time adjusting to the norms of American society upon my return. I expect tickets for weaving in and out of lanes and barely stopping at stop signs. I will be jailed for peeing on bushes on the sidewalk as people pass by. I will be charged for littering. All of these things are common practice, culturally, in Latin America. I just love how you’re walking down the street and some guy is snugged up to a lightpole, letting his main brain drain. You’ll find trashcans on every corner and outside every major establishment in the US, but here you must carry your trash sometimes 7 or 8 blocks to find a place to toss a wrapper.
Disappointment. Rage. Confusion. Sadness. I think I was more upset than the victim, by the looks of her face. Thursday night, as I was riding the buseta home from the weekly Couchsurfer meeting, I witnessed something I intend to never duplicate. It was 10pm, about halfway home, and the buseta (small bus for 20-30 passengers), stopped on a major street that had many people on its sidewalks. Some people on the bus raised their voices louder than normal at the stop, but I didn’t understand the Spanish. Some young white guy hopped on the bus at the front passenger door and stood for 2 seconds in front of the well dressed lady in the front seat. Then he hopped off the bus just as quick. The passengers erupted. One guy ran to the front and shouted through the glass that separated the driver from the passengers, “Why did you open the door? We told you not to open it!” It was then that I realized that it was a robbery or robbery attempt. I had had no idea. I sat there just raging. My leg reached a whole new frequency of shaking. I felt sick. I felt robbed. I felt weak. The lady wore no expression, so I asked her if she spoke English. She said, “No.” So I asked her in Spanish if they had robbed her back there. She said “yes.” I was at a loss. I just wrote my name, email, and the fact that I offer self-defense lessons on a napkin, and as I hopped off the bus, I said, “I’m sorry” in Spanish and handed her the napkin.
What I don’t understand is why this continues. People say it’s the poverty. Others, the drugs. I agree with those theories, but would add that it’s the culture. One of my English students, a mother, has instructed her children to always give the robber what they want “because they are aggressive and sometimes use knives.” There is also the Kitty Hawk effect, a psychological term meaning Diffusion of Responsibility; everyone thinks someone else will do something to help the victim, but no one ever helps at all. The robber knows that no one will do anything. This is an excellent city in which to be a criminal. This eats at me so much it makes me shake. I cannot tolerate victimization. If the people showed more resistance and made it more difficult for robbers to succeed, it would happen less often. It can be difficult to defend yourself alone, but a group of people are more likely to succeed at the defense. What have the government and schools done here to empower its people?
I know what I will do differently. On my bus, I will guard the doors. I have already devised some defense techniques the woman could have used. I want to teach them to everyone. I also learned that it is less safe to sit by the door, where a robber can quickly enter and exit. Surround yourself, distance yourself. And never break the cardinal rule: “Don’t flash your goods.”
So, there will be some things I will not miss when I evacuate Bogota. But I am confident that the road ahead of me will bring its own trials and tribulations. I’ve been trying to figure out where and when and how to go next. Will I ride out of Colombia, or fly? Vicky’s dad is trying to work something out where I can get a two month extension, allowing me to ride in Colombia until Nov. 16. Otherwise, I may be able to cancel the student visa, buy a tourist visa, then buy an import permit all over again for the bike.
I’m at the most critical juncture of my trip. Do I go east and south through Venezuela to Manaus, Brazil, where I will fish the Amazon River? Or, do I go west and south through Ecuador and Peru, visiting Macchu Picchu in Cusco, Peru before plowing through the rain and mud of the Amazon jungle on my way to Manaus? The reports I’ve received from couchsurfers in Manaus and Cusco, the two main cities between the portion of jungle I intend to ride through, unanimously measure the rainy season from November to April. They are also reporting that it has been atypically dry this year, and that this trend may continue through the rainy season. They all say that the obvious effects of global warming make seasonal weather forecasting unpredictable. Some are telling me that the road is passable even in the rainy season. I need to investigate the reliability of gas delivery to the towns along this road, the general safety of travel along it (Indian attacks???), and just how muddy it is. I intend to contact the Brazil Department of Transportation for further information to hear the “official” side of things.
One issue is time. I would expect to spend one week reaching Cusco from Bogota. There, I’d spend 3-4 days with the Andes and Macchu Picchu, and also gear up with an extra gas tank and 100% offroad rear tire. From there, it would be slow going, making 100 miles per day on the 1000 Cusco-Manaus trans-Amazon trek. So, I’d be looking at 3 weeks to reach Manaus. If I make for Manaus via Venezuela, it would take me 4 days. In Manaus I want to dedicate 2 weeks to the pursuit of Piraiba and Red Tail Catfish in the Amazon River. From there, I could expect to wait 3 days for the correct barge to float me and my bike down the Amazon to Belem or some other near-coastal city. It would be 3-4 days on the river, I assume, then 7 more days of sheer riding south to reach Sao Paolo in southern Brazil. All told, I’m looking at 4 weeks, 4 days to 7 weeks to reach Sao Paolo from Bogota, Colombia. If I want to make Sao Paolo by December 31st for my buddy Chad’s engagement party, then I’d need to ride out by the last week of November at the latest, and that would mean cutting out the Inca and Amazon ride, two key elements of this journey. I’ve committed to my English schools to be here until December. I will suffer a 30% fine if I quit before November, I believe, and for ethical reasons, I’d rather not go back on my word. That includes the couple Hapkido students I have.
But much is in the air. I am told that Vicky’s dad has identified a way for my motorcycle permit to extend through Nov. 16. I may receive confirmation by tomorrow. It is possible that if that goes through, I would leave before that date. If I needed to stay longer, I could ride out of the country and reprocess the tourist paperwork to enter the country, but I do not see a reason to do that at this time. I intend to investigate the flight costs of the company referred to me by my boss. I need all the facts I can gather to make the best decision.
If I make for Manaus via Venezuela, thereby cutting out Macchu Picchu and the most terrifying part of my trip, the TransAmazon highway, it does not mean I cannot do them at a later time. I had already considered making an upswing from Ushuaia, Argentina to visit the highly-touted Bolivian salt flats and the Chilean Patagonia. That alone would bring me halfway back to Macchu Picchu, and if I was going to see Macchu Picchu, which is right next to Cusco, which where my road leads through the Amazon to Manaus, I might as well take that road and go fish the Amazon again. Plus, by the time I made it there, going that route, the rainy season might be slowing.
Whatever the case, to fish the Amazon River at the start of the rainy season is ideal. Catfish move upstream as the water rises in preparation for the spawn, and prespawn catfish are hungry fish. That means good fishing. That means Gary is excited!
What I’m also excited about, to some extent, is moving out of this blasted house. Ok, I love the location, and the relative warmth and size of my third floor bed room, but 450,000 pesos is a bit pricey, I was given a bed with a needle in it, the refrigerator (which is for the entire house of 8+ people) is the size of the one I had in my college dorm (which means each person can refrigerate 1 carrot stick), and I must go downstairs if I want to use more than one burner on the stove. This is because the stove on my floor has 4 burners, 2 gas and 2 electric, but the gas ones don’t work and if you use both electric plates at the same time, the house power shuts off. Yeah. So, if I really want to cook, I must carry my dishes and food all downstairs. I usually use both burners, so I run downstairs, stir, run upstairs, stir, run downstairs, stir, etc. But what I really hate is the service. I can’t do my own laundry! The first time they did my laundry, one of my shirts was not returned to me. That was a specifically selected, specialize shirt that costs $30 on sale. The second thing I hate is the owner. Is it okay to hate the owner, or just the owner’s personality? I don’t care, I hate her. The first day I was here she told my friend that she didn’t like how I left a couple dishes in the sink to soak overnight (they HAD to soak somewhere!), saying, “He’s acting like this is HIS house!” ??? I don’t live here? I didn’t pay you for that? Then she has been complaining about how I use the kitchen, meaning, she doesn’t want me to use the stoves. That alone made me feel unwelcome in my own house. Then she said that I must turn the lights off in the kitchen, which I do, when I’m not using it. I would be cooking something in the kitchen, run into my room for five minutes to finish an email or something, return to the kitchen to stir, and find the lights off. Again and again. So, yesterday, she tells my friend that I cannot stay here any longer. I had to laugh. The night before, I had three friends over from 10pm to 10:30 pm. We were talking in the kitchen and I served them hot chocolate that I had prepared on the stove. We standing there, chatting, and she came out of her room, which apparently she just decided to invade in spite of the fact that it was already occupied by her niece and niece’s daughter, and told one of my Spanish-speaking friends that, “It’s too late to be cooking, and the lights should be off.” J Yeah. I turned the lights back on and continued to chat until we had finished our hot chocolates. Then we quietly left for the night. The next day she complained to my friend that I cook in the middle of the night (rarely, and 10pm is not the middle of the night on Saturday night), mess up the bathroom (never happened), use the kitchen, and some other ridiculously unmemorable and untrue accusations. She replied with some of the complaints I had instructed her to say (we had anticipated this attack) and requested that I be reimbursed for the stolen shirt. She said she would. Then she said she wanted me out on the 31st. I showed her the receipt I was given by her son, which had no date, and explained that I moved in the first Saturday of September, which her listening niece verified. So, she accepted that I stay until then. She then offered to let me stay in a room downstairs for a reduced rate, but I declined and said I would rather leave. So, I’ll contact some of the previous places I visited before this place and see what happens. One of my students, who must be gay or bisexual (not because he is in any way hitting on me, but because he has OBVIOUSLY gay friends over, has offered to rent a room from his apartment for 200,000 pesos ($100) per month in exchange for the opportunity to practice more English while I’m there. I’d consider it more readily if the location was better located, had reliable internet, and didn’t smell like dogpoop. But, that’s cheap, and the place isn’t bad. Plus, it would only be a month or two, max. Not fond of the idea of hearing his sex life, however. But, I guess that’s part of the adventure.
Oh, and I began Spanish lessons with Vicky. Free Spanish for free Hapkido- that’s our deal. In fact, class begins in 45 minutes. The first one made me laugh. She took on a whole new personality- authoritative. She firmly mandated, “We are NOT continuing until you perfectly pronounce, quickly, all of the Spanish consonants!” Women can be so scary when they’re serious.