Bogota 6: Gnomes, American Pride, and Amazon Plans

Post date: Oct 21, 2010 1:39:48 PM

3 women are killed everyday in Colombia, and the majority of the murders are the result of domestic violence. My friend Lina described to me how women are still subjugated to cultural repression in spite of their legal equality. It sounds like women are cultivated into co-dependent, enabling personality types. She says the cycle is continuing because young girls are being raised without strong, positive father figures and learn from their mother’s to depend on men, especially abusive men, for financial support and decision making. My friend says she belongs to a feminist group, which has inspired her to give presentations at schools, but after contacting some authorities in the schools, she found she needs a special certification in order to present seminars at schools. So, she is considering changing returning to school to study gender issues.

American tv shows are popular here. One’s favorite show is Ally McBeal. Another, Larry King Live. South Park is quoted here often. Flipping through the tv channels you often find Hollywood movies with voice-overs in Spanish. Those irritate the heck out of me. The tv industry is alive here as well; I’ve seen film crews at work on multiple occasions in both neighborhoods I’ve lived in.

One thing I’ve failed to mention for some reason is the open-affectiveness of the Latin people. As I walk down the street, I’m to see some college couple nuzzling on the street corner, the girl laughing as the boy struggles and stretches for a kiss. Sometimes you see people making out. Sometimes they just hold hands. Between both male and female friends, I’ve found that touching is a common gesture of communication. It is isn’t so much that an American, even with his stringent territorial preferences, is going to be disgusted or uncomfortable. It’s just nice to see people in love and simply caring for one another. Touch is a powerful threat and neutralizer, and I think we could use more of it. I like it.

After much waiting, I have received confirmation that I can extend my motorcycle permit at a cost of 450,000 pesos, or about $250. Is this good or bad news? I feel raped, or close to it. I knew Colombia would be risky and that I may get robbed, but I didn’t think it would be the government doing it. I don’t know how much of that fee consists of late fees or irregular costs, but I know there were some. Now I must wait 5 business days, at least, to receive the permit. 5 days in Colombian time, due to the intergalactic time warp that knows as its center the city of Bogota, Colombia, is more like 3 weeks earthling time. If there something this trip is designed to teach me, it is how to accept powerlessness and victimization. In other words, how to possess “the serenity to accept the things I cannot control.” When one is robbed, one is reminded of what one has, which should be nice and all, but for me the feeling more closely approximates hatred and disgust. I looked out the window from my bedroom at an average, decrepit wall across the street. One window is busted out. Another is propped open by stacked bricks. Black stains streak concrete base of the building. The sidewalk is missing chunks of rock. By American standards, this is ghetto. And all of Bogota is ghetto. Yet, this is their capital and a center of industry for the entire nation. I was reminded of the old days, the tribal days, the first days, when man claimed property and let no one through without some sort of tax. Now is no different. Here I am, working, illegally, technically, and enjoying the resources of this land. It is quite ordinary for a government to tax me for this. What angers me is the manner by which they do it. They are slow, inaccurate, misinformed, and most likely taking advantage of my United States heritage by charging me more. I was also reminded of the difficulty posed to Colombians attempting to visit the United States. The U.S. is probably even more expensive and bureaucratic, but I guarantee they are more efficient and legit. Colombia is truly a developing nation. As I myself am in development, perhaps our affair was fated.

But, hey! I will have my motorcycle back- fixed and legal! And besides, what else is money for? Why else did I work and budget so strictly for so long? This is just one more tale to tell. I am learning what money is.

I just received word from one of my schools that one of my students is cancelling all his classes for two to three months. That’ll cut me down 240,000 pesos this month. Anyone got some good stock tips?

Colombians like the United States. Even the ones who seem to discriminate against me, I think, are just jealous of my heritage. It sounds quite corny, but I am proud to be an American, even if one of the things for which they know us best is our obesity. That and our consumer goods. I was surprised to find how brand conscious these people are, and how much they will pay for Nike, Victoria’s Secret, Tommy Hilfiger, Hershey’s, Ragu, and more. The prices one pays here are commonly 2x to 5x the price of the same products bought in the U.S. And people pay those prices. Online shopping is utilized here, but not nearly as often as in the U.S., and many Ebay sellers refuse to ship to Colombia (as in Mexico) due to high probabilities of theft by customs officials at the borders. For this reason, I am hesitant to mail-order the replacement part for my camera, which I am told is the electrical wiring tape for the whole unit. Apparently I tore it when reassembling the camera. I remember it being the one thing that confused me during the assembly.

Best news to date: I’m a winner! I invited Vicky to walk the reputedly impressive Gran Estacion mall next door to my class at ANH. As she and left the supermarket Exito inside the mall, she persuaded me to enter the car raffle at the kiosk immediately outside the store. We each drew a slip of paper, and fate smiled upon me. I remember summoning my inner energies the way I would before rolling a critical 20-sided die in D&D, and in this case, I rolled a 20. That means double damage. I won us a three day, two night hotel resort package in a warm area two hours outside of Bogota. They said we also won an opportunity to compete for the car. They said if we assemble a puzzle quicker than the other 20 winners, then we’d win a brand new Hyundai. And we had to get to their office, which was located 10 blocks away, in under 10 minutes. So we literally ran from the mall. Outside we were jumping and waving for taxis, but no one came. So we started running to the office, but I soon caught a taxi. We reached the building, checked in at security, took the wrong elevator, changed elevators, reached the 7^th floor, ran to the end of the hallway to their office, and were then told to wait in the empty lobby. Where were the other contestants? Why did they say it would start at 6:15pm?

We were taken into a cubicle where they performed their market research/customer survey and attempted to sell us a membership to their tourism agency. Vicky and I had to pretend to be married, which was quite hilarious considering that Vicky is a horrible liar and worse actress. I played dumb, which is true in terms of my lack of Spanish… so that helped to cover up the act. After an hour of going along with it, we attempted the puzzle. 2 minutes to complete it? Yeah, right! No one could do that. We did not win the car.

So the question now is when will we go? We can only go Monday-Thursday, and that would cause some issues with work. I’d have to reschedule 9 classes, and my companies would not like me to simply cancel the classes. But if I told them I’m the big winner…?? I will likely wait until my jobs finish and take the trip just before I leave Colombia.

I am not exactly excited about leaving the comforts of a stable home. I have a full bed with warm blankets, a tv in my room, a desk, a full sized closet, and plenty of quiet and solitude. I cook when I want, with all the utensils necessary, and I cook often. I wake up at roughly the same time every day, I know how to get where I need to go, I have an Exito points card to receive discounts, and I have an income that pays the bills. I am practicing and teaching one of my most beloved activities, hapkido. I live in an interesting place with ample learning opportunities. I have a social life and a wonderful friend with a tremendously supportive family. It’s the easy life, the good life. And if there’s any pattern to my life, this recent lifestyle will eventually bore and irritate me. My eyes are turning more and more often to the Brazil and South America maps taped to my bedroom walls.

A random bite: Sometimes I will be walking along the sidewalk and see some aproned young man carrying a tray of plates or Styrofoam boxes of hot food. I presume someone in an office down the street placed an order, and they deliver the food to the office. But ceramic plates? Delivery in general is common, and motorcycles are the most common mode of delivery. These bikes have all manners of racks and boxes attached to them. On occasions you see motorcycles towing little carts of supplies. And you will see the smallest mopeds carrying two humans- much like Jim Carey and Jeff Daniels in Dumb and Dumber.

It is much more common for people in Colombia to work 6-7 days and 48-60 hours per week than in the U.S. Granted, they work less while working, but they are at the job site for longer, generally. Colombians know how to pace themselves. The same could likely be said of Latin Americans in general. We States-folk work hard and play hard. We may lean a little too heavily towards, “Living to work” instead of “Working to live,” however. Actually, that’s fact. Colombia is going that direction also; they are materialistic like we are, but have less integrated technology, a weaker economy, and weaker education. But, without a doubt, it is blossoming.

One thing I find most interesting is the prevalence of African voodoo and indigenous mysticism. Gabriel Garcia Marquez, the great Nobel Laureate, is renowned for his blend of surrealism and social commentary in his narratives. Magic and fantasy are not so far removed from his stories, and I found a similar theme in the historian who led me and some acquaintances through the lives of the old Cartagena plaza. One of my students explained to me how non-traditional counselors (psychics) are often as trusted or more trusted than traditional Western psychologists due to their appeal to spirituality, a very real component of these peoples’ lives. And education seems to have little impact. One of my friends here believes astral travel, gnomes, witches, and psychics are real. She says there is a place in Colombia where elves are said to live. I must say, her world sounds far more interesting than mine. I see it as a vestige of cultural heritage. Africans brought their voodoo, Indians supplied their own brand of myth, and mixed with other more popular belief systems like Buddhism and Christianity and modern taboo-metaphysics… you get a hodgepodge of general suspiciousness! The bottom line, in my discussions, ultimately falls down to, “What are YOU doing to help yourself?” They are questions and answers of human behavior, religions. I think we just make things much more complicated than necessary. I’ve thought everything through and I quit the process years ago when I realized that simple fact- that our problems are self-created and that things are only complicated when you remove yourself from what matters- here and now. For me, it’s just a practice of practicing what I know. And it doesn’t matter who is my boss- I enjoy disobedience. Yes, that includes myself as the boss.

It’s weird how many stores use English words in their names. Colombia is receptive to change and, I think, really idolizes America. When they read an English word, they pronounce it as an English-speaker. Spain, on the other hand, may use “English” words, but they pronounce them the way Spanish dictates.

I live with some kinda white poodle named Salomay. She’s 1 year old and likes to kill bugs and chase thrown items. Her owner doesn’t comb her or wash her often; he says he likes her “au natural.”

My motorcycle has not arrived yet due to, I hear, a massive restructuring of DIAN, the governmental office responsible for producing my paperwork. The government has let go 1000 employees, nationwide I assume, and the office processing my extension has underwent a change of management. But I do know that my permit will be extended to December 16, permitting me plenty of time to prepare for the route to Manaus. A student cautioned me about Venezuela, which only reiterates my initial findings, and he encouraged me to explore river options. This was made a more attractive idea after re-examining the road route via Venezuela to Manaus; my calculations put Manaus 7 days away. Given this less-than-direct route, I looked up what rivers flow to the Amazon from Columbia and Ecuador. There aren’t many, due to the mountains, and due to the fact that most of the available rivers are 50 miles or more from a road and reside in guerilla territory. Guerillas or political racism? I found two small towns near major highways that connect to more decent sized tributaries of the Amazon. Puerto Asis sits on the Guames/Putomayo system in Colombia, about 2 days from Bogota. The other, Coca, is on the Napo River, just across the border in Ecuador. I’d hate to cross a border just to cross through 40 miles to a river launch. Both rivers enter Brazil through jungle, and I doubt there are customs officials stamping passports on the river. Two problems with these river routes are A) they may not be safe enough to carry a motorcycle; they may have rapids, especially if the rainy season hits hard early on. It should be starting right about now. The other problem is that they would take me at least as long, or longer, to get to Manaus. But I bet it would be quite the adventure. I also doubt I would find information on the internet about cargo transport boats in those towns. I’d have to go there and ask. There is remarkably little motorcycle adventurer information about my routes. All the Pan-American riders from the states stick to the west coast highways from North America to South America. Whatever. I’m sure that’s fun and all. I’ll double check prices to fly to Leticia, Colombia, then boat to Manaus, or fly directly to Manaus. I’ll compare the prices to the cost of riding there directly. I hate to think that flying to Leticia would be the wisest bet, since I already paid 450,000 pesos to ride my motorcycle out of the country without trouble.

What a pain in the arse my one English school is. I have 0 idea how they landed a contract with the largest petroleum explorer/driller in Colombia, Ecopetrol. Nor their parent, the government agency ANH. Nor the other major companies they serve. I have a boss who spends more time giving orders than following his own instructions, and he has thus earned the prize of “Most Disorganized, Hypocritical, and Clueless Leader of Gary’s Life.” He missed and my interview. That was the first sign. He has never called or emailed me when he said he would. He set an appt. three weeks ago to begin at 3pm, end at 3:45, but which started at 3:45 and only ended when I walked out to teach my class at 5:40. Last week I cancelled a class in order to attend a mandatory company meeting, only to be notified less than four hours by email that the mandatory meeting had been cancelled, and my students were unable to reaccomodate a class, so I lost 30000 pesos, $15. I wrote an email to them explaining how I expected to be reimbursed for this lost class, and I received a call from the boss that said, “You received the email! He must not have understood mine. He offered me a full day of teaching that would give me about 110,000 pesos more than normal for a Wednesday. Vicky convinced me to not push the issue further (this is not the U.S.). I argued about the principle of the issue. You don’t correct slapping your wife by taking her out to dinner, do you? Then last night he says that I’ll be working half the hours as scheduled today, Wednesday. This is after I already cancelled my hapkido class to accommodate this change in schedule. Plus he never sent the info I requested last night, so I did not find out what I was doing today until I called him 3 times. This, in addition to the idiocy of DIAN, has me ready to leave Bogota. I wanted to learn about culture, right? I wanted to live as the locals live, right?

And my internet is still not running in the apartment after 3 weeks. At least my apartment manager has the integrity to return the extra 50000 pesos I paid for internet service this month. Unlike the bus driver last night. I accidentally gave the guy 200 pesos too much, but he refused to give me the 200 back! Yes, I failed to notice the sign posting the price outside the bus, but still, if one overpays by accident, isn’t human custom to return the change? I guess not here.

I LOVE THE UNITED STATES. I never felt proud of the U.S. before this trip. I now believe it to be the best country around, even with its over-consumption of resources, selfishness, and various neuroticisms. It is organized, efficient, just, and operated by a set of very useful customs/morals. It’s simply a better match to my personality than Latin America. Of course, I haven’t immersed myself in the jungle yet. Who knows, I may become an Amazon river rat before long.

There was an attack on the president of Ecuador a week or two ago. Looks like that country has some violence as well. I’m surrounded. Protesters to the west, guerillas to the south, and gringo haters to the east. Hmm… and somehow I must punch a hole through them. It’s not like I can just slip through unnoticed… my skin color, my blue eyes, my many possessions packed on a bike the size of which is seldom seen here, and my California license plate… But the chances of violence toward me are miniscule. No, I suffer the more mundane, daily discrimination from bus drivers and the rest. It’s hilarious. I just want to go fishing.

Travellers see only the good of a place. What makes vacations wonderful is less the destination and more the attitude of the vacationer. They are full of optimism, energy, and motivation to enjoy life and love themselves. But, this attitude is independent of location. But we think, “I can’t wait to vacation so that I can relax.” We must learn to be tourists in our own hometowns. I can see my old cynicism returning with the settled life. Old habits die hard. With settled life, one acquired the perspective that all things must last forever. Attachments grow, and with attachments come the need to manage the attachments. It becomes work. Somewhere in there is a balance I’ve yet to find. It is difficult for me to not get bored and irritated with ordinary life. I think there’s a healthy dose of me that simply prefers imbalance, chaos, and struggle.

This weekend was a holiday weekend, so I went with Vicky, Paola, and Gael to an Ecological Refuge called Parque Chicaque. Beautiful. Green palms the likes of which I have never seen stretched like noodles to the sky; their trunks were impossibly thin. I need my camera! There were some beautiful views of the surrounding mountains, and some of the vine covered cliffs looked like they came from a Lara Croft video game. We got a late start (women!) and when we got to the campsite (at dark), we collected firewood. They collected nothing but wet, small sticks (women!). I set up the tent and found some large logs, feeling very manly, and used vasoline and toilet paper as fuel to ignite the fire. It took awhile with all the wet wood, but in due time we had a blazing fire, a silent jungle shrouded campsite, and tuna and cream cheese sandwiches. After I was content with the fire, I commanded, “Women! Bring me food!” I laughed. They said they were already on it. Hehe. Then we sat around and Paola started a story that each person had to contribute to in turns. I couldn’t keep up with the Spanish, but I gave each person a list of words they had to use during their segment of the story telling. It was funny. That night I gasped “Women!” yet again when I found out that only I and Vicky had brought water. She and I each brought 1 liter, and we had all bought 1.5 liters of coke at Colsubsidio during the supplies shopping, which was mainly for Vicky’s diabetic sugar needs. 4 people, with hiking planned next day? I was concerned, since the water at the site was non-potable. Then, in the tent, it turned out that only I and Vicky had brought sleeping bags. So we had two bags for four people in a 45 degree temperature. We were all a bit cold that night. I somehow strained my lower back, which hasn’t happened in five years, and the hard ground did not help the matter. I was limping the next day, but the hike helped. It was gorgeous greenery. We made about 3-4 miles, round trip, down the mountain and back up. Vicky had a horrible time with her energy. I blamed her lack of conditioning, but her sugar levels clearly affected her. We had to PUSH her about .75km back up the mountain! But, she made it, and we were all proud of her. We were rained on the trip uphill. It was an adventure getting back to town. We found some nice folks with a dog and a pickup truck to haul us to the park entrance 3 miles away. There we waited and waited. Three buses passed us. No one would hitch us a ride. Finally this big bus leaving the park took us on and took us to the next town for free. From there it was two hours to Bogota due to all the traffic returning from the holiday getaways from the south, like from Girardot, our resort location. I got to my class late, and apparently my student thought we didn’t have class because my use of recently-acquired-Spanish-past-tense revealed to me that my student had left hours ago and not returned. So, I went home. I slept well that night, in my bed.