Rainy Season

So it seems cold-rainy season is back.  It was a lovely 2.5 month interlude of sunny, warm days but now we are back to reality.  Rainy season here starts with sunny mornings and afternoon showers and ventually evolves into all day general cloudiness and drizzle and strong afternoon rains. Think Seattle or Portland.

On my way to work this morning from a friend´s house, I passed the tombstone street, a solemn looking block selling nothing but tombstones and funeral flowers.  It´s located next to what used to be a very prestigious cemetery and looked particularly gloomy in today´s morning clouds and drizzle. Like a scene out of some period piece showing life in a nameless, despondent, pre-industrial revolution European country. I will take pictures one of these days.

First Colombian Hold-up. (Not Mugging)

As the title indicates, I got mugged today.  I was making my way to the bus this morning when a woman came up to me and demanded I give her the COL$5,000 bill I was carrying in my hand.  Taken aback my her boldness, I said no.

She then pulled out a piece of glass and told me to hand over the bill, or she'd cut my face. Those who know me well are aware that I am a extremely vain, so this made me rethink my refusal. I told the woman to please hold on a moment and pullled a COL$1,000 bill out of my pocket, but she wasn't having any of that, so I had no choice but to hand over the COL$5,000 bill.

I was actually pretty lucky. I had my credit cards, laptop and $100 in cash on me. Luckily I carry my big bills close to my heart.  And in the end, she only took the equivalent of US$2.50. But lesson learned:  Don't walk around with my laptop and don't carry money in my hand.

Egyptian

I remembered to day that when I was really little, my aunt told me one time that my grandfather was European.  Somehow in my young mind, I confused this with Egyptian.  So through second or third grade, I very proudly told anyone who would listen that I was Egyptian.

Thoughts

I was doing a little facebook stalking and started getting a little depressed. As it is with facebook photos, my facebook friends (some actual friends, most people I know and am nosy about) were posing in all sorts of happy-looking photos: On vacation with friends, partying in D.C., drinking cocktails on a nighttime Alexandria cruise, celebrating birthdays, white water rafting, getting engaged, getting married, having babies, buying a house – always these smiling, dynamic nano-second stills of life moving forward. Made me feel like my life is somewhat on stand-by, that everyone is making strides toward something and I’m missing out. I think to move forward I need to make a decision: Am I here for a year? Two years? Forever? At any rate, I’ve decided against late night facebook stalking…

Being in a foreign country that isn’t completely foreign isn’t always easy, I have to admit.  Of course, I want to make it work because my roots are here and who doesn’t want to think they come from somewhere great? When I was younger, whenever I came to Colombia, I’d have this feeling of euphoria and enlightenment, like everything that made “us” different from “them” (from “real Americans”) finally made sense. I can’t pinpoint what exactly it was that gave me this feeling of relief and belonging, but I guess you could say I was in love with Colombia.

I don’t have that feeling anymore.  Maybe I’ve been here so many times that it’s all more familiar now.  Even in the most passionate of romances, love fades. Or maybe living abroad for the better part of three years has made me realize how much I enjoy being American. How free being from the U.S. is. In fact, I am realizing lately how very American my mindset is, and how I’m trying to impose my U.S. mentality on my life in Colombia. Which isn’t particularly right either.   

Sometimes I think there are aspects of my personality that are irreconcilably incompatible with Colombia. I have never been a particularly delicate or diplomatic person and have always just kind of been myself (sometimes difficult, distant, rough, short) without apology, not caring too much how much or how little people liked me. I always had a nagging thought that this was something I should work to improve, but I had enough friends to feel like I couldn’t be that bad of person, and got away with a lot just by being Jiji. I enjoy being alone (though not in hermit-like proportions) and need a lot of space to feel comfortable.  I don’t particularly enjoy unsolicited advice (though I tend to give it), and I like to do what I feel like doing. Here, it seems like someone eating lunch by themselves is pity-worthy.  And forget about going to a bar alone.  As for advice, it’s everywhere.

Here, it’s harder to be myself. I don’t know if this is specific to me or a more general thing. I love my Colombian family and am thankful for them – I’d probably be back in the U.S right now without them – but sometimes I envy other expats because they do what they want without the fear or dread of reproach or judgment.  They hang out with and date whoever they want, party wherever they want and live wherever they want and there is no one asking them what so and so’s last name is or asking them what the hell were they thinking going to this place or that place. They experience Colombia from a completely foreign perspective and I experience it from a sort of undefined middle area, where I’m not really Colombian, but not entirely foreign either. So I’m not completely excused from social norms, so I always feel a certain degree of pressure. If I go out with a guy, it’s always, “what’s his last name, where is he from, what did he study, what company does he work for, what neighborhood does he live in, et cetera.  And when I answer that I don’t know on any count, I’m informed that I still don’t get it, that I just don’t understand How Things Are Here. But because I'm not from here, I just can't bring myself to care what someone's last name is or what part of the city they live in. 

I grew up in a place where 85% of people were middle class and the small remaining percentage were divided between super rich and quasi-lower middle class. I don’t have experience with massive class/social/economic differences. So basically, I can’t make sense of this social/class system.  I try to wrap my mind around it, dissect it, analyze it, come to some kind of understanding with it, but I just haven’t been able to figure it out. In the U.S., if an investment banker married a public school teacher, no one would think anything of it.  Not the case here. And I can’t help wondering if maybe I’m just really not made for this.

But then again, there are so many things I love here that I know I could never get in the United States. I suppose every country has positive and negative qualities and I just need to figure out what qualities I can live with. A slightly more honest post than I usually write. 

Colombian Honesty Part II

My grandmother's supportive answer when I told her what the lady said was:  "She's just saying that because she didn't see how fat you were before."

Colombian Honesty

Today I was telling the lady who helps my grandmother that I ate a brownie.  She told me I was too fat and how did I expect to lose weight eating brownies.  My American sensibilities are not used to such honesty.

Marriage Proposal

Yesterday I got proposed to for the first time in Colombia.  It was not a particularly romantic or tempting proposal.  But I do appreciate the guys honesty.  Here's how it went down:

Guy:  I want to leave Colombia and go work somewhere else.  Will you marry me so I can get a visa?

Me:  What kind of monetary compensation do I get?

Guy:  I'm a good-looking guy.  People say I look like Juanes.  That should be enough.

Me: Do you have a job?

Guy:  No.

Me:  Did you finish school?

Guy:  No.

Me:  How do you support yourself?

Guy:  My parents support me.

I declined.

A Long Day.

Excitement over grown-up new place ends dramatically.  Looks like I'm back to being my grandma's roommate for the time being...

A Conversation with My Grandmother

When I was talking with my grandmother about possible places to move, the following conversation occured:

Me: What do you think of La Candelaria?
Grandmother:  They'll shoot you as soon as you leave the house. Or at the very least, you'll be mugged. At knife point.

Me: And the international center?
Grandmother: I wouldn't be caught dead there. Too many muggings.  

Me:  How about Teusaquillo or La Soledad?
Grandmother:  No way, that area has gone really down hill.  There are a lot of muggings. And if you leave the house, the robbers will take all your belongings.

Me:  What about Chapinero Alto?
Grandmother:  No mijita, that's too empty at night.  There are a lot of muggings.
Me: But that's a good area.
Grandmother:  Only if you have a car.  Otherwise you'll be mugged every night.

Me: Ok, what about los Rosales (one of the most expensive, exclusive Bogota neighborhoods)
Grandmother:  Absolutely not.  There are tons of muggings there.
Me:  But it's a super rich area.
Grandmother:  Exactly.  And the robbers now that, so they mug people all the time.

So according to my grandmother, Unicentro is the only livable spot in Bogota.

Updates

I've found a new Wi-Fi spot in Los Rosales. It's called Author's and it's an English-language bookstore with an adjacent cafe that sells, among other things, grilled cheese sandwiches, one of my favorite delicacies. Maybe it's not very open of me to seek out an English language bookstore as a hang-out, but it’s nice to have something that reminds you of home when you’re away. Maybe because I’m an English major and a writer, I should like tiny, intimate bookshops, but (except for my family and friends) there’s nothing I miss more about the U.S than the monstrous proportions of Barnes and Nobles and the wonderful, crisp smell of new books and overpriced coffee. Just thinking about it makes me feel nostalgic. To me, there are few smells as wonderful as that of a new book, especially a paperback.

Anyway, Author’s is medium-sized, organized, and they play that laid-back jazzy coffee-shop music so popular in U.S. bookshops. It's about a 20 block walk from my apartment, but leaving the house makes me feel like I'm at an office, resulting in me being more productive. Plus, I get my exercise in, as I haven’t found the motivation to join and actual gym yet. Maybe someday.

So I was exploring my northern England meets Munich meets impoverished Soviet-era Eastern Europe neighborhood (changes by the block), and can report that my local surroundings include half a dozen pet shops (very sad to see puppies in tiny cages), an esoteric bookstore, a cozy little pizza place, more lamp shops than one could ever need, several bakeries and plenty of those huge, unique old houses now divided into several apartments or businesses and in a sad, but slightly artistic, state of disrepair. I feel like I live in the D.C equivalent of Columbia Heights, except my neighborhood is de-gentrifying while Columbia Heights up and fell and is now up and coming. It has that look of faded grandeur, like once upon a time it was a well-kept middle upper class neighborhood, but as Chinua Achebe would tell you, “Things Fall Apart.”

I suppose that by living where I’m living I’m transferring my U.S. mentality to Colombia. If I were living in the U.S., I’d be sharing one of those old south Arlington, U-Street or Columbia Heights homes with an economist, non-profit worker and grad student. Maybe a slightly rebellious act on my part to want to live somewhere edgy, previously disregarded and with a little bit of a bad reputation, and maybe wrong of me to try to apply my American ideas in a foreign country. A phase I’ll probably grow out of when I no longer care about being provocative in that way. So I’m applying my yuppy mentality to Bogota even though it’s different here, and in many ways, you’re judged by where you live. In the U.S., people might think I was a “cool, hipster-type chick” if I said I was moving to U-Street; here, I get whispers from people who think I’m a confused foreigner who is unaware of what’s best for herself. Maybe they’re right, but being young and not taking advice very well, I’ll have to find out on my own.

I’ve always liked to find beauty in strange places, to feel like I’ve discovered something, to feel like I’m seeing something most people can’t; very arrogant sounding of me, but everyone likes to feel like they’re special. And in my neighborhood, with all those beautiful (if slightly decaying) brick houses, unkempt front yards and older-model cars, I can imagine what was and what could be, which is sometimes better than seeing what actually is, if that makes sense. But of course, if we went back to when the houses were well-kept, the lawns perfectly manicured and the cars the latest models, the neighborhood wouldn’t have appealed to me. I don’t know what that says about me.

But either way, I like my new place and neighborhood. My apartment feels like home. I want to hang pictures on my bedroom wall, by a nice frying pan and invite friends over for dinner. I don’t know that I’ll stay here for too long because I’d eventually like to have my own place, under my name, but for now, it seems perfect.

My New Place

So above are some pictures of my new apartment/neighborhood.  The first picture is the view from my bedroom window (central/western Bogota), the second my living room, the third my dining area and the last a my street. By far, the nicest non-parent's place I've lived in in the last 6 or 7 years...

Too Good to be True?

So, things have been going very well these last couple of weeks in all aspects of my life.

1.) I have 7 students who all want 4-6 hours of tutoring a week.  And most of them just want conversation.  So I am basically getting paid to talk to people.  

2.) I've started working on a new project (Latinworld.com) where I get to write articles about tourism and Latin America. It's not a full-time job, but it let's me do what I like to do and keeps me in the writing field. I'm really looking forward to this project because Latin American tourism is something I can actually get excited about.

3.) I have a new place!  And it's an adult place. Not as in XXX adult, but it just seems very grown-up.  All the places I've lived in since college are so old that the bathroom and kitchen always look dirty no matter how many times it's cleaned.  My new place is in a relatively new building and everything looks clean and welcoming.  It's pretty small, but my room has it's own bathroom (having one's own bathroom being a major indicator of being grown-up) and it's completely furnished.  My roommate is French and works as a professor, so maybe I'll be speaking French by the end of the year.

The demographics of my new neighborhood are pretty similar to my old neighborhood:  middle-middle class, lots of students, a handful of foreigners, some homeless people and about a hundred mariachis.  Yes, I will be living on La Calle de Los Mariachis, surrounded by middle-aged men in tight pants and enormous sombreros. My apartment is on a dead-end street with about half a dozen English-style houses and I'm close to an actual grocery store, lots of clothes and shoe shops and lots of cafes and restaurants. A good mix of residential and commerical.

4.) I've made some friends, am going out more and having a very good time.  I've met a good mix of foreign and Colombian people, and I'm really excited about the prospect of staying in Bogota and making a life here. I don't know if that will change, but for the first time in my life, I am actually excited about where I am and the life I have rather than thinking about where I'd like to go instead. It only took 25 years...

Routine

It looks like next week I will be starting a new tutoring schedule, 24 hours a week, at least for the next few months.  Considering I've only been tutoring 6-10 hours a week for the last few months, this should signficantly increase my purchasing power. 24 hours a week isn't exactly a full time jobs, but it should give me a pretty nice monthly income by Colombian standards, so I'm pretty excited.

So now I will need to be a little more disciplined.  I've been on somewhat of a vacation for the last few months, but now need to return to reality...

Colombia

I spent my first couple of months in Bogota so absorbed by everything new and different -- architecture, cafes, culture, shops, streets -- that I was in a complete state of euphoria. Going from Centreville (population 50,000) to Bogota (population 8 million) is a big change.  And even though I lived in Panama City, I'd be hesitant to put it in the same category as New York or Bogota because something about it seems a little artificial. Kind of a Miami or Las Vegas-type city. So I was extremely excited about everything that comes with living in a vibrant, interesting, culturally fascinating and diverse big city. It was like being on vacation 24/7.

I spent the next few months comparing everything to the U.S, missing everyone at home, criticizing everything that I didn't find up to par and wondering if I'd made the right decision moving here. Especially when I heard about Arlington happy hours, Adams Morgan clubbing, popcorn consumption, Alexandria and Georgetown day-trips, rural country drives, family dinners, my friends' expanding purchasing power (my shrinking purchasing power) and basically, everyone going on merrily with their lives -- without me. I guess I was slightly depressed because after you see everything great about a place, you start seeing everything bad.

But now the euphoria's gone and so's the depression. I've stopped comparing everything, stopped being over critical and have started making an effort to be more social, do more things and go out more, all things that make life better. So now I'm pretty content here.  If you know how to take advantage of it, Bogota is a pretty cool place.

Now I just need to find a new apartment. My current place is too far from my classes and my room's a little small. I'd really like to find somewhere in Chapinero because it's close to the center and the north but still has a lot going on.