To my 10 Loyal Fans

I've decided to change blogs. I'm going wordpress now. I like the format better.

So check it out at: http://anomadlife.wordpress.com/

Panama

I have to admit I'm looking forward to going back to Panama.

As much as I complain about the heat, the lack of a sophisticated capital city (a la Bogota), and all the expats (despite being one myself)  it does have a special place in my heart. I went there in early 2008 not knowing a soul, and being relatively shy and introverted, I ending up spending a lot of time alone, just me and Panama. But I think I stopped feeling like a teenager in Panama. Anway, I'm looking forward to Panama the way you might look forward to seeing your high school boyfriend (not that I had one): Nostalgic and excited, all the while knowing there's no hope for a real future. But it doesn't make the reunion any less meaningful.

So, I will be in Panama April 27-May 23. Except for family members, my vacation invitations are rarely accepted, but being of an optimistic nature, the invitation is extended once again. As a selling point, Panama is a really tiny country, so unlike Colombia, it's perfectly realistic to see the rainforest, mountains and the beach in one week. Plus Panama City offers some excellent Miami-Vegas type partying.

April 27-May 1: Panama City, Gamboa and Gatun area
May 1-May 3: Isla Grande and Portobello and Valle de Anton
May 4-May 10: Bocas del Toro, Boquete and Boca Chica
May 11-15: The interior provinces.
May 16-20: San Blas and the outer Darien
May 21: Back to reality. OK, so not actual reality. But back to my everyday life.

Alone. At a Cafe. Doing nothing.

There is an old man sitting in front of me at Diletto (my cafe/office). He is all alone, drinking a glass of red wine and eating chips. Mostly he's staring out at nothing in particular. Maybe he had a fight with his wife or is in Bogota for a business trip and doesn't know anyone. Except he's wearing khakis and one of those safari-tourist jacket-shirts, definitely not Bogota work attire. So maybe he's foreign. And the fact that he's alone is a big foreigner indication. I don't think Colombians are all that fond of doing things alone. I always feel so sad when I see people eating/drinking alone.

And then I remember that I am here alone almost everyday and don't feel sorry for myself. Well, at least not most of the time. And I would not like it if other people felt sorry for me. But at least I'm doing work. This poor guy doesn't even have a book or newspaper. I don't think I'm the kind of person who can go to a restaurant and cafe with no computer, no book and no company. I prefer to do my thinking while moving. I'm not sure if this preference is because of efficiency (exercise and thinking in one) or because the act of doing something physical doesn't let me concentrate 100% on what I should be thinking about. If you're sitting still, you really have no choice.

Man, khaki pants has his head in his hand and is looking particularly meloncholy. It's a very sad scene. An old man with glasses and a white beard sitting in a big leather chair drinking red wine from a gigantic wine goblet.

Good news: His girlfriend just arrived. Now he looks happy. I assume it's his girlfriend and not his wife because they look happy to see each other. Now it's just me and the fat, six-foot tall gringo sitting alone.

Things Happen

Things happen here that remind you why Colombia has a bad reputation. When you think things are under control and the violence has passed, it turns out a government worker gets assasinated in Antioquia and a car bomb kills six and injures 30 in Buenaventura. Both incidents, I'm guessing, are somehow related to the FARC or another armed group. It's not particularly shocking news by Colombian standards, but I'm starting to think Colombia is kind of like Tilikum, that killer whale who killed its trainer despite years of good behavior. Unpredictable.

I wonder if anyone has ever written a book exploring why Colombians (as a society) are prone to political violence and organized crime. And it's not just something that started with cocaine...it goes back to the 1800s. I suppose the drug trade fueled things further, but what mix happened here that didn't happen elsewhere? Or what historical factors could have contributed to this kind of prolonged, low-grade civil war? I wonder if the elections will be peaceful.

And in other news, I have my first Year of Yes date tomorrow. He's asked me out a few times and I always said no. Maybe this new spirit of YES will make my blog more exciting.

Also, Frommer's contacted me to update the next Panama Guide. So I will be in Panama from May 23-June 23 or something like that. Quite exciting. Anyone looking for a tropical vacation is welcome to join me. Week-long vacation applications are acceptable. So between the U.S. and Panama, I should be back in Colombia by the end of June. Because I can safely assume to gain some 10 pounds in two weeks in the U.S., I will be starting a hardcore exercise program in order to lose weight so I can gain weight at home. Go me.

The Year of Yes

A friend of mine had a link on her facebook to this NYT series called Modern Love (http://topics.nytimes.com/top/features/style/fashionandstyle/columns/modernlove/index.html). So I started reading and ended up reading until 2:30 in the morning. I have a reading problem, and once I start, I can't stop. Anyway, one of the contributors recently wrote a book called THE YEAR OF YES, a memoir about a year when she said yes to every guy who asked her out. It sounds fun.

So I started thinking maybe I should do that. Of course, I would have to make "No" exceptions for homeless guys, obviously emotionally/mentally disturbed guys and those who've just gotten out of prison or seem like they might end up there soon. Unfortunately, those seem to be the guys most interested in me. Or maybe their situation just makes them braver than the rest.

It's always my first instinct to say no to everything. Someone invites me out on the weekend? I start thinking of way to get out of it. Coffee? Same thing. Get togethers? Too many people. I don't know why. I guess shyness or not wanting to deal with making the effort to be social. But all that's about to change! Maybe...

Perhaps that will be what I give up for lent. I know is a problematic statement because Lent started a while ago and you're supposed to sacrifice during lent, not look for ways to make life more fun. But technically, I'm giving up shyness. Also, there is the problem that I am not particularly religious. Oh well. We'll see how it goes. I'll blog if there's anything interesting to report.

Colombia

Yesterday night, in a place called La Esquina del Tango Colombia and I connected again. Sure, we connected under Argentine circumstances, but connected none the less. We'd grown somewhat distant, but I think things are good again. Or at least on the right path.

And yesterday, sitting at my cafe in the posh Rosales neighborhood, I spent the day researching and writing about Brazil, small town Montana, Delaware, Wisconsin and Mexican resorts. Sure, I spent one article's worth of pay on pastries and drinks, but it was nice anyway. I spent an entire day researching and writing, the two things I enjoy most, and made more money than I made in a day in the U.S.

Then I picked up my grandmother because I invited her to a tango show for her birthday, and we listened to tangos until 2am in the morning. It was my grandmother, her cousin Olga, her friend Sylvia and me. There was a full backup band, three singers, two dancers and a half bottle of rum involved (which my grandmother and I drank together because apparently, most women over 65 besides my grandmother, think drinking is bad). The cost of our evening for four including cover, show and rum? $50. Pretty nice, I have to say.

Now I just need to volunteer somewhere. It's good to do something nice for other people once in a while.

Cookies and Pizza

I have yet to find a place in Bogota that makes good chocolate chip cookies and puts decent amounts of tomato sauce on their pizza.

I have seen tomato plantings in Colombia, so it can't be due to lack of tomatoes. As for chocolate chip cookies, I suppose that's like asking a Centreville bakery to make a good empanada.

Diletto

There's this cafe in Los Rosales called Diletto. Los Rosales is basically like Georgetown minus the riverfront. Very nicely planned out, upscale neighborhood with non-brand new apartments and a few amazing houses. If I were super rich, I'd live here. Or maybe in La Macarena. But because I'm not, I just come here to do work and make believe.

Anyway, at this cafe I see the same 4 or 5 work-from-home type people, most of them expats. Perhaps it could be the setting  for a Hemmingway-esque novel about life abroad. Except I don't actually talk to anyone...

Check it Out:

www.latinworld.com

Politics

I think that morality is a little more flexible in Latin America than in the United States, and politicians are very easily forgiven when the next guy comes and leaves the country worse off than the  guy before him. I think most politicians can expect forgiveness in a few years out of office. If I were a Latin American political writer, I would write a book on political forgiveness in Latin America.  I would entitle it: Forgive and Forget? Latin America's History of Political Amnesia.

I am back in Bogota after a lovely vacation in Ecuador which left me wanting to explore all of Latin America a la Motorcycle Diaries. Particularly Peru, Bolivia, Chile and Brazil. Not so much Paraguay and Uruguay. I am currently particularly interested in Latin American political history, so I may head down to La Calle del Libro sometime soon and see what I can find.

My new disciplined schedule starts today and goes as follows (Not that this is of interest to anyone, but writing it down helps):

1.) 3-5 hotel articles
2.) 1-2 Latinworld articles
3.) Personal writing for at least an hour a day.

At the Hairdresser's

In our resolve to see all of Bogota, Ivan and I took a transmilenio to the south of Bogota's last week. As I have heard many things about the south (mostly bad) but have never actually gone, this area of Bogota holds a lot of intrigue for me.  I don't know what I expected to find.  I suppose it has the same connotations as Southeast D.C., which, in my 20 years of living in Washington, I've only seen accidently through a car window while trying to find a club or bar in northwest. The sheltered life I've lived...

Anyway, in Restrepo, which is a commerical area around Calle 40 South, Ivan decided to get his haircut. It was only the equivalent of US$3, but I think we were overcharged for being American. You are taxed heavily in Colombia for being foreign. Oh well. But back to the topic. Even though I'm American, I have Latin roots, and this results in me being unashamedly nosey. I can't help it.  It's in my DNA.

So while Ivan was getting his hair cut (which for some reason took about 30 minutes) one of the hairdressers was talking about her son, who was sent to a psychiatrist because he was acting out at school. The psychiatrist asked to meet with the boy's mom (hairdresser) and asked her questions such as: What time do you go to bed? Do you have boyfriends? Do you drink? et cetera, et cetera. Girlfriend was not pleased. She informed the manicurist that she told the psychiatrist to go to hell and stay out of her life. Then she told the manicurist (not in these exact words) that psychiatrists are all nosey skanks who get off prying in other people's lives. Up to there, I didn't really think much of her comments, a lot of people would react the same way to those kinds of questions.

But then she then proudly tells the manicurist that when she came home, she took out the whipping belt and told her 14-year-old son to meet his new psychiatrist, that he was no longer going back to school and had better get a job because a real man doesn't talk to someone else about his problems.

Listening to that just made me sad.  A 14 year-old kid has problems, and instead of learning to deal with them, he learns to suppress them and go out of his way to NOT get help. Rich people in the United States talk about visiting their psychologist like a suburbanite might talk about going golfing, but in el Restrepo, Bogota, a hairdresser views the psychologist as the enemy. I'd like to think it was an isolated case, but the way the manicurist and the other hairdresser were rooting her on, I'm thinking it's pretty common.  I feel like there's a lot of child abuse in Colombia. I wonder how you even go about changing that kind of education gap.

Ecuador Pictures (Then Explanation)

Above: Ornate Baroque-style "Compania de Jesus" church in Quito's old quarter.

Above: Panama hats at Plaza Poncho in Otavalo.  Turns out Panama hats are actually from Ecuador, not Panama.

Above: Moto taxis in Atacames.

Colombian Words

Parcero huevon marica hijueputa appear to be Colombian's favorite words.

Nostalgia, Revisted

Today a cousin invited my grandma, uncle, brother and I for lunch at his apartment, located in an older neighborhood composed of smaller buildings dating from the 1940s and 50s (estimate) out by the Universidad Nacional. I'm most familiar with the eastern part of the city, so it was strange being in Bogota and not hearing any buses or horns -- just birds chirping. A part of the city I had never really considered living in, but we'll see what happens.

While we were there, my grandmother started talking about the Bogota of yesteryear, when members of high society lived in El Centro and La Septima was Bogota's most elegant avenue. She said that back then, you could trust people and that life in Bogota was easier and more idealic. Weekends were filled with trips to El Parque Nacional for theater and ice cream, fun was more innocent and people less devious. 

As much as I love listening to these stories and imagining a more perfect world where people care about each other and none of today's modern problems exist, I wonder if there's any reality to this rosy recollection of the olden days, or if it's more of an idealized recreation -- the past reimagined.

Somehow, in my grandmother's stories, Bogota is elevated to a crimeless, cultured, beautiful city devoid of any of its current problems. Even the street people in her recollections are remembered lovingly:  La Loca Margarita who dressed completely in red and walked up and down the Septima in the 1930s and 40s with a basket of flowers and fruit, shouting "Que viva el gran partido liberal, abajo los Godos" (long live the liberal party, down with the Godos (conservative party); the almost dwarf-like accordionist dressed in a fine three piece-suit who played his songs in downtown churches and insulted anyone who didn't give him a coin; the Bobo del Tranvia, who jumped from trolley to trolley telling jokes and collecting coins. All of these characters recounted with laughter and nostalgia. 

In her story, the people dressed better, loved better and lived better, and today's world has gone to Hell. Nostalgia is a strange thing. I wonder why so many people like to believe the best days are behind us, that the world is getting progressively worse, and the "standard," or the "ideal" has forever been lost. I wonder if the world really is getting worse (in economic/health/social terms it surely isn't -- so aside from perceived human warmth, what else is there?), or if humans just have a tendency to fixate on the "great" things of the past and the "bad" things of the present.

I read a book a few years ago called "Prague," and in the book, one of the main characters is working on a research project regarding nostalgia.  I never actually finished the book, but the whole nostalgia thing is an interesting concept. I am a very nostalgic person, but I couldn't tell you why.  I romantize the past and tend to imagine it artistically-- as an impressionist painting, black and white photograph, newspaper clip, the deep baritone of 1930s radio broadcaster, or one of the willowy, Grecian-like women in Mucha's poster art. I wonder why.

Regret and Priorities

I miss my apartment in the city center.  I can't really remember why I moved out.  I paid the equivalent of US$150 and had Internet, cable (79 channels!) and utilities. Plus, my family could stay and there were no restrictions. The transmilenio was half a block away and I could walk to get anywhere.

What was I thinking when I left???

So my March/April List of Priorities:
1.) Find place to live. With cool YOUNG people with progressive/liberal mindset.  
2.) Join a gym or do some kind of exercise. It is not normal for a 25 year old to be out of breath after one flight of stairs.  
3.) Get disciplined/organized.
4.) Work on social life.

Somehow it seems like my goals are always the same.  This is a problem...

Bus Strike

Bus drivers in Bogota are on strike.  As far as I can tell, they want more money from the government for retiring old buses and are upset that they will no longer be able to pick people up wherever they feel like picking them up.  According to the news, business has gone down 66% because shoppers don't feel like dealing with the traffic and employees can't get to work.

I am feeling a bit of cabin fever. I don't have the money to get around by taxi, and live about 15 blocks from the Transmilenio.  I miss my daily trips to Chapinero and the center...I can't quite remember why I moved out of my place in the center to begin with.  Oh well. Moving forward.