Ropa dope

I shall regard this as one of my favorite titles thus far in my blogging experience-other than Star-Struck in Stirling, I mean come on, that is some amazing alliteration- because of its multidimensional meaning between two languages. Ropa in Spanish means clothes, and dope...well we all know what that means in English. Rope-a-dope is also a boxing fighting style commonly associated with Muhammad Ali in his 1974 Rumble in the Jungle match against George Foreman (Wikipedia). For me, it comes to represent my dopiness in relation to washing clothes down here in Colombia, get it? Ropa ...dope? Go ahead, feel free to laugh uncontrollably and admire my rapier wit...if not, I'll have this guy do something about it:

But in all seriousness, my first experience with washing clothes down here was not good. I moved into my unfurnished apartment about two months ago and didn't have any basic necessary appliances-a refrigerator or washing machine- for an extended period of time. Therefore, my strategy for addressing the needs that employ the use of such machines resulted in shopping for fresh produce in the street and cooking it before going bad, along with stretching my wardrobe to its max potential before washing it. 

Now, my wardrobe lasted me almost three weeks. After about two and half, the need for clean socks and the bulge of my hamper obliged my clothes to speak to me, "For the sake of your hygiene and nose, please wash us." I still didn't have a washing machine, so what was a young he-buck like myself to do with this pile of sweat stains and lint? Well, the only option remaining was to face a monster that all men from all over have feared since the dawn of our existence: Handwashing their laundry.

Every dude hates laundry in general; separating whites from darks, colors, towels, folding them after, it really is a hastle. However, having to take each piece individually and wash it, rub it, ring it out, hang it, spank it...we are entering a whole new world of pain. Luckily, most apartments here have a washing sink for clothes because some families don't have the luxury of being able to purchase a washing machine. Therefore, the washboard was built into my abs, I mean second sink, on the other side of the kitchen. So I sat there, converting my plastic garbage can into bucket for my soap, and proceeded to wash, wash, and wash....and wash some more for a total of 2 and half hours. 2 AND A HALF HOURS. Wow, I mean the list of things I could have done with those 2 hours of my life. Let's list just a few:

-Watch a movie, preferably a spaghetti Western 
-Read an R.L. Stine book
-Bake a cake
-Complete two P-90X workouts
-Shave my hairy hobbit feet
-Watch countless YouTube videos

-Write more annoying blogs to take up more of your time

Those are only a few things I could think of off the top of my head, there's plenty more where that came from baby. The final step, a big one that didn't come to mind beforehand, was....where am I going to hang all this sopping wet textile? I hadn't bought a drying rack yet, so my only option was to improvise. Here is the the photo evidence; it wasn't pretty.

Anyway, after completing this daunting task, I sat down and could only say one thing..."I need a sandwich." Just kidding, it was more like, "I need a washing machine." So, after my first battle with hand washing, I had to admit defeat and the war was over; a washing machine was purchased for my household within the a week. Got to love clearance sales and scratched during delivery machines. I don't give a hoot what it looks like, as long as I don't have to hand-wash clothes ever again.

Host Club...FINALLY

I think I need to mention some big news that I failed to report about a month and a half ago, pardon me, the first four months here have been a whirlwind of activity, but I lassoed that tornado and have been riding it like Pecos Bill ever since (kind of wish my Dad would have called me that growing up). Anyway, sometime in mid-October I went to my first Rotary meeting with the club that is my host club for the rest of my time here, which also means it is the same club of my host counselor. Her name is Laura Beatriz Pena, a lawyer who has recently become a member of Rotary-I had the pleasure of seeing her receive her official acceptance at our meeting last week.  Laura is a gentle and extremely intelligent individual, whose capacity to probe and ask questions is unmatched. There are times when I think her inquisitiveness resembles that of a young child's mind, constantly sifting through the clutter of information to try and find the basic truth, without even realizing it. Guess that is why she is such a boss lawyer. She prepares some mean fajitas too. A few weeks ago she invited me over to her house for dinner with her son and mother who also live there. I'm not joking, these were the best fajitas I've had in a long time. However, all that considered, I would have to say I feel thankful to have such a pro-active and genuine host counselor like Laura.

But...back to the the first meeting at my club of Medellin-Nutibara. This club is more to my liking, seeing that they have about 20 members, which in my eyes is a more manageable group. The first club I visited here had like 100 members-way too big. This group of Nutibara is great because they come from all facets of life: medecine, law, engineering, academia, entrepreneurs, etc. Not to mention, they have a nice spot reserved for meetings; a nice little country club tucked up in eastern hills of Medellin with a great view of the city, especially at night. From the balconies, looking out, it seems like a bunch of stars fell from the heavens and landed all over the Valley of Aburra(valley in which Medellin lies). So, as commanded by Rotary International's central command, I introduced myself to the club and gave my 15 minute powerpoint presentation on who I am, where I come from, why I came to Medellin, and how this club and my club back home in Allison Park, PA can work together to carry out an international project. After that, I sat down to share a nice chicken dinner with the rest of the club(winner winner chicken dinner, one of the many perks of being an ambassadorial scholar).

After dinner, it was time for some prime time publicity. The photo shoot was quick and painless, not awkward at all, well, except for when the one Rotarian couldn't figure out the zoom button. When all was said and done, I could honestly say that this club felt right for me in my gut...or maybe it was just the feeling of contentedness that comes from being full after a nice meal. Hopefully, it was both.

Check out the pic below!:

I'm going down to Cali, to Cali, to Cali...

There are sometimes trips that come along that one really can't explain why they were booked; sometimes the wanderlust in our subconscious creeps out of his cage to stage a coup in the deep recesses of our brains. This I believe is what led to my recent trip to Cali- no, not the state of California, rather the city in western Colombia. Yeah, LL Cool J? He wasn't along for this ride.

It all starts three weeks ago, when my buddy Shayanne was talking to me about the city; salsa capital of the world, warm weather, beautiful women- staple subjects of normal conversations in Colombia. Later that day, I was bored and just started looking up flights, and before I knew it, the AMEX card got whipped out and I was headed to Cali in two weeks time. Again, no rhyme or reason for my purchase...it just happened. However, in the few days before my departure, I started to second guess my decision. I didn't know anyone where I was going, I heard the city was quite dangerous,and I was staying at a hostel( I hate sharing living spaces with strangers, especially backpackers).

Despite last minutes jitters, I boarded the plane and headed to Cali. The hostel was great actually, with super friendly staff that arranged airport pickup: so clutch. Second, they offered free salsa lessons everyday. I got there at midnight on Thursday and went straight to bed. It was quite a strange feeling being in a hostel again, but for $8 per night, you can't beat it. I have to admit it, in my somewhat extensive traveling experience, I may have developed into a bit of a travel snob, meaning I don't go to hostels, I avoid other travelers, etc. However, being in a hostel again and traveling with just a small backpack, I couldn't help feeling a renewed sense of adventure that I haven't experienced for some time.

So I woke up Friday morning and saw Jovitas, my hostel, for the first time. Surprisingly the whole weekend, the hostel remained sparsely populated. It was a large colonial home, so high ceilings and brilliantly painted walls with a courtyard in the middle of the plaza that had hammocks strung up all over, making for a pretty chill environment. After heading outside for some air, I decided to get some breakfast. I went to a random bakery and ordered an omelet the size of my forearm for $2, I mean it must have been made with at least 4 or 5 eggs. Needless to say, I wasn't hungry until dusk. It was hot and sunny, so I decided to grab a book from the hostel library and head to a park or cafe. Now this was a fun process because a hostels library is usually so diverse and random, each pull can be quite the experience. They had everything from a learn Japanese language book to the New Testament in Spanish to some random Lord of the Rings knock off about the God Gildron and the stealing of the magic orb of Gorbitron...However, I spotted my sought after lyrical treasure and knew it had to be-The Irish Reader. It was a thick book that had once been a deep green, but had since been caked in dust and dirt giving it an entirely new color, a color attesting to its long hard fought battle with time; and clearly it had been a war of attrition. And it's in moments like these in life when you have the rare occasion to see something that by most standards would be considered ugly and tired, as something of beauty. That is why it is so enjoyable to read old books, it's not just the appearance, but the feel of its worn pages slipping through the tips of your fingers and the smell that seems to linger until your nose becomes accustomed to it. That is what I could say about this book; a collection of short stories, plays, and other works of fiction by some of the greatest Irish writers of all time.

So with my old friend in hand, I proceeded to San Antonio church. Sweet, boring view of the city. So then I headed to a nearby cafe, where I had some espresso and read the Ride of Seafarer and The Weaver's Grave. After, a long day of total solitude and being a hermit, my soul was yearning for some human interaction. I headed back to the hostel and met Will Spellman- A Londoner who has been living in Cali and is a good friend of my friend in Medellin. We chatted for a bit, hit if off, and decided to go grab some beers on a rooftop bar, $1 each. Now I know why he decided to stay here. After heading back to the hostel for some free salsa lessons, actually more like a workout, we showered and headed out to a live Graffiti art show by some French and German dudes. So before we proceed any further, maybe it would be better if we go over some short, descriptive bios of the characters:

Me: The precarious, young, clever, handsome, outgoing, humorous, did I mention good looking, gringo from Medellin looking to discover Cali.

Will: The Captain as I like to call him, the super cool Londoner who left the rain and cold of good ole England to live Colombia and learn Spanish. Basically my guide the whole weekend...we drank beers and stuff too.

Bernie: Bernie is an Irishman from Cork, Ireland. Who is passing through Colombia on holiday and loves learning Salsa. His witty humor and  frankness always kept the conversation interesting.

Marcela: Filmmaker from Bogota  with a hardworking attitude. Typical rough exterior of a Bogota resident, but a true sweetheart once you get to know her. Fancies butter on her arepas.

Andy: The proverbial Scotsman. Listening to him was like stand up comedy. His accent combined with his ability to tell a story, made even the most standard conversations hilarious.

Friday night, we drank and talked, getting to know each other better. Saturday on the other hand was much different. I got up at 10:00am and went to Crossfit in Cali. I came back to go grab some lunch with Will at a cafe called Macanudo. Later we went back to the hammocks at the hostel, lounged, then got ready to go out. We first went to the zona rosa which is like the richy part of town where young professionals go out, go figure, the name of the bar we went to was called Bourbon Street. After polishing off some Jack Daniels, we headed to a club called Favela. Will, myself, and some others from the hostel. Pretty standard night, we danced some salsa with some ladies, talked, and headed back to the hostel, nothing crazy.

Sunday, we headed to a hip hop concert in a large concert venue/park. Other than having the most inept and annoying MC of all time, some of the artists weren't too bad. Typically, I can't enjoy live hip-hop, but the DJs and the sound system were great. They even broke it up with some breakdancing crews coming out to perform on stage. So after 4 hours of hair of the dog, we headed back home. Andy, Will, and I all chilled on my last night in Cali, mainly just talking and telling jokes, most of which were made by Andy.

After this weekend, I can truly say Cali broke the mold of bad stereotypes surrounding it. I found it to be a warm and colorful place, full of life. I will definitely be returning soon. I mean $80 roundtrip flight that lasts an hour, who could pass that up?

Halloween Colombian style

Contrary to the notions the title of this post may evoke, let me start off by saying I couldn't really note any difference between the way people here in Colombia celebrate Halloween and the way we celebrate it in North America. Candy is passed out to kids dressed up, there are costume parties, the decorations are the same, and of course girls between the ages of 14-30 wear slutty costumes.

Therefore, this Halloween wasn't much different from the ones of my past. However, I would have to say the way we celebrated was a bit more intense. My friend Tatiana from the gym I go to invited me and a friend to the party, we actually ended up being an entire squad of 10 people before night's end. I dressed up as a drummer from a typical hairband of the 80s and taxied my way to an abandoned house in zona tesoro. Upon arrival, we were blown away by the presentation. This was really an abandoned house days before the party, but they converted it into an all out party place. We all drank Aguardiente the whole time and by the end of the night, two of my good friends ended up passing out next to a parked car and waking up to befriend and chase a cat around, randomly spotted by Tatiana who also couldnt figure out why she was still there. One must point out though that the DJs played some of the best music I have heard while living here. Not one person could be seen standing still.

From left, my friends Jon, Angela, and Jose Camilo...other chick is some girl from Massachusetts,eh

I also must point out that I ripped a vintage Billy Idol t-shirt to put together my costume last minute, although sad, it was necessary. Go ahead, give us a rebel yell, we understand.

World Summit, Free Pass? Yes, please.

Back in the second to last week of October, I accompanied my buddy Juan Fernando after class to Plaza Mayor, where Medellin's Convention Center is located. He was picking up his pass to enter the II WORLD SUMMIT FOR REGIONS ON FOOD SECURITY 2012, seeing that he is a professor of nutrition at my university here, that made pretty good sense. Me being the curious and innocent bystander, playfully asked the staff member preparing the passes if any free passes to the public remained, knowing full well that they were surely all gone. However, thanks to my foreign accent I was allotted a second chance because after hearing me speak she asked, "Where are you from?" To which I replied, "USA." Apparently there were a decent amount of passes left  for foreign visitors, so I seized the opportunity and obtained a pass to the summit. The next day Juan met me at the front door of the convention center and we were........Innnnn.

It was a pretty nice set-up, the great large banners with eye-popping statistics about advancements in food security of late, flags everywhere, "important" people walking about- it felt like I was at the UN. Therefore, I suppose it would be wise to define what this summit was about. Here is the technical description given by the members:
- To identify the challenges of food security in the context of a world where social, economical and environmental changes take place.
- To propose structural and programmatic actions from the point of view of Regions and to identify mechanisms of interregional and international cooperation that contribute to the fight against food insecurity.

However, I came away with a few simple conclusions. First, that food security is a right of every human being. I mean food and water, they both go hand-in-hand and to deny someone those two things directly or indirectly is something that needs to be addressed. Second, the present world model of growing and consuming food isn't sustainable. On a macro level, there is way too much mono-production of crops and we are losing genetic diversity in them, along with the matter of food price speculation. Another factor is we need to change consumption patterns back to a more traditional manner- the French speakers had a lot of good advice and evidence on how to achieve that, go figure ;)- which basically means supporting more farmer markets, eating organic products, and simply taking more pride in what we cook and eat: the practical approach. Long story short, in my opinion, the central governments and world dialogues aren't producing results. So this conference arrives to show that, listen, we don't need central governments telling us how and what to do; they don't have the omnipresence to know exactly the needs of the regions that make up their country. Local and regional authorities need to step-up, they are the ones with the power to make significant and long lasting change. However, they must be held accountable for their actions by individuals and groups that make up civil society. It is much easier for us to hold accountable those officials that reside closer to home than those that hide in some far off capital city.

The Frenchmen presenting with a Colombia Farmer

The amount of international cooperation taking place between local governments of France, Colombia, and among many others showcased in this summit, to me shows that there are some great advancements being made in food security. Hopefully this trend of individuals taking responsibility to change their community and share it with others around the world carries over for the rest of this century, if not....well I think we all have a good idea of what will happen.

So we were like, in Bog-o-ta and...

Last weekend of September and my third weekend in row spent outside of Medellin…Man, I’m starting to feel like I live in suitcase. As I was making my way to the airport to catch my flight to Bogota on that sunny and pleasantly warm Thursday afternoon, I felt like jumping out of the cab and rolling my back to Medellin. However, after considering the speed I would hit the ground and my need for legal status with immigration here, my seatbelt remained secure.

I got to the airport in Rio Negro with ample time to sit and enjoy a coffee before boarding. As I sat and pondered as I am accustomed to doing from time to time- it’s called thinking and reflecting, try it sometime!- I realized airport security here in Colombia is like a dream compared to the TSA! There are no scanners shooting X-rays through your body, possibly damaging cells, and no thugs patting down children or Grandma Ethel in an inappropriate manner. Just good ole’ fashioned metal detectors and security guards who treat you as a human being and paying customer. How refreshing.

Anyway, I got a third call from my buddy Henry in the span of an hour and a half before boarding the plane-he just wanted to make sure I knew where I was going. Seriously though, Colombians can be that caring, but then at other times could care less about what you are saying, like in the middle of a conversation they will just stop listening to you and focus on something else. It’s actually rather amusing and has happened to me a number of times.

The flight to Bogota was great; in the air for no more than 50 minutes. Now that is how I like to travel. I got there at 8pm, which was my plan to avoid the world famous traffic there. I got to Henry’s house 20 minutes later and talked with him and his sister before turning in for the night because I had an early wake-up call to get my Visa. Now, Henry had class, but his sister took me on the famous bus line “The Transmillennium.”which is the only major transport system for the city. Medellin is the only city with a metro in Colombia! In comparison with the flight, traveling by this system is a nightmare; buses are crowded, run confusing routes, and have to stop at traffic lights. The best part of the ride is getting off, which I did around the city center where I met Henry after his class. He and I went to the government building and were there for no more than 30 minutes. Was this real? 30 minutes to do a GOVERNMENTAL process? I was amazed that things were taken care of the rapidly and efficiently, not what I expected from the Colombian government.

So we skipped out of the building and headed to the first place anyone would go after getting their visa successfully…The Bogota Beer Company, Yippee! Now, this is quality handcrafted beer and we ordered two pitchers because it was Happy Hour. I also must point out at this moment that there was actual sun shining this day, a rare occurrence in Bogota because the majority of the year it is cold, grey skies, or rainy. Although when the sun comes out, watch out. Although he rarely shows his face, when he does, he’ll burn yours off if you are a pale gringo like me of course.  After two hours of chugging brew and good conversation, we headed to grab some food at the biggest mall I have ever seen in my life, the name alone conveys this: TITAN Plaza. I ate a 1¹/ ₂  lb burger that would have made Ronald McDonald proud and topped it off with some Crepes n Waffles’ ice cream, which I have to say rivals some of the best ice creams I’ve had the pleasure of getting brain freezes from. But after all this excitement and food, we headed back to the Henry’s apartment for a long nap.

 

Upon awaking, we showered and headed out to the “T –Zone,” which is like the place to go out in Bogota, definitely a more wealthy area. I have to say though, while walking through I couldn’t help feel like I was in Boston or some other big hip city in the U.S. Basically, it was a chill night. We went to two bars and had a few beers. I got to meet Henry’s cousin and other friends. Reggae bar was the last stop. However, there is one funny story from this bar. As we were casually sipping on our cervezas, Henry noticed a drunken group of people sitting outside. The one fellow was off his rocker drunk, barely able to sit up straight. All of sudden Henry bursted out laughing and we spun our heads around to see this guy puking on the floor like it was his own bathroom. No one around seemed to notice or care, so he just kept going. The funniest thing was that drunk as he was, he was still trying to hide his sickly state by using a small coaster to cover his mouth as he turned to the side to upchuck his dinner. Yeah dude, don’t worry, no one sees the stream falling to the floor as long as you hide your mouth. After Henry doing a hilarious impression with his own coaster, sound included, we all laughed our way into a cab and headed home.

The next day, Saturday, I went out on my own to meet up with a friend of a friend. This Colombian helped me in the preliminary stages of deciding on where I wanted to study in this county. Her name is Juliana and she is one good journalist, I’ll tell ya. She basically wrote reports on each city for me, making my decision more informed and easier in the end. So, we met at the bus stop by her boyfriend’s house around 1pm and we proceeded to walk down Seventh Street, a famous walk way only open to pedestrians strolling their way through the city. Again, the reporter in her came out as we walked and she told me the history of Bogota and the areas we were passing through. After Seventh street, we ran into Bolivar Plaza, where the three main branches of government all have their buildings. In the center of the plaza is a statue of the man who liberated this country from Spanish rule, Simon Bolivar. She told me, there is never a time when a pigeon is not sitting on his head (see pic below).  Then, we walked into an old church which rivals  the scope of some I’ve seen in Europe. The next zone we traversed is called the Candaleria, which the oldest part of the city. It is full of funny street names and colorful buildings, which kind of reminded me of the neighborhood of Boca in Argentina. Juliana showed me some other cool spots like museums and libraries I wish I could have spent more time in, but we were on a tight schedule. So, we trudged on and made our way to apparently the oldest part of the city where a fountain marks the spot and the six original buildings that made up the settlement, as good a place as any to have lunch. I basically had the best juice I ever had in my life, but I can’t remember what it was now, seeing as I am writing this three weeks later since I drank it. O well, Juliana, if you are reading this, comment on the side what it was please!  After a nice lunch, Juliana had an engagement, so I thanked her for being a great guide and host, then we said our goodbyes and went on our own ways.

 

 

I decided to make a pit stop in the famous Gold Museum before heading back to see Henry. Now, this museum has more gold than the city of El Dorado and Atlantis and Fort Knox combined (well maybe that’s a stretch) and has some great exhibits. It is pretty amazing some of the designs and metal work they were doing in those ancient times. Check out some of the pics I snapped below.

I headed back around sunset to Henry’s and ate a quick dinner, so we could get to the birthday party of his friend on time. We got there and it was a pretty cool scene, seeing that it was the bar and restaurant of one of the most famous Colombian male singers, Carlos Vives; pretty good singer but no my cup of tea. All the songs sound the same and are overdramatic. I did an improvised impression of what the songs sound like to me and all the Colombians around me thought it was hilarious. Anyway, this girl was loaded I think so we had three big tables rented out on the second floor and all the booze we wanted to drink. Now, I maintain that I was doing a good job, not getting drunk and drinking water to remain hydrated. However, that is difficult to do seeing that all we did was dance for like three hours straight. As the night went on, my defenses weakened as the party goers all loosened up and wanted to get the only Gringo on the premise drunk. By around 2am they achieved their goal and the Aguardiente had me down for the count, so all of us hopped in a cab and headed back to Henry’s.

The next day was absolutely painful and I had to travel back to Medellin to make things worse. Apparently there was an earthquake, but yeah, I slept right through it thanks to the night before. So, Henry and I ate lunch together and I thanked him for everything, including being a gracious host and introducing me to all his friends. I then got my bags, fumbled my way into a cab, and went to the airport. Thank goodness for a short plane ride and I was back in the city I love. My buddy picked me up from the airport and I made my way back to my place. After throwing my bags in the corner and drinking a tall glass of water, I laid my head down to rest. Thus, the end to my Bogota adventure. It wasn’t my favorite city, but I believe I see it again before I leave. They’ll want their favorite gringo to return for round two I’m sure.

This Jesus piece is located in a church on Seventh Street in Bogota, apparently 

every year the hair miraculously grows.

 

Seasonal Changes

The month of September usually is a month, at least for me, that has always been a significant marker of time every year. What I mean to say is September is a month that stands out because of the many changes in brings, everything from weather to a new school year starting. However, this September has been one of the more memorable ones of seasons past for a number of reasons.

First, I moved into a new apartment and basically figured out my routine down here in Colombia. Once you find your stride in a relatively new place, things all of a sudden become more enjoyable; you have a favorite restaurant, you know where the find the best cup of coffee in town, that market in the plaza of America has the freshest produce, etc. I am finally feeling like I am apart of the city and can easily get around. I am participating more in class because of my own confidence and the trust I have in my classmates and professors. I even enhanced my fluidity in Spanish, but with all this positive comes a bit of negative; September flew by like the Space Shuttle's last flight over San Francisco last week. I can't believe we are already at the end of the month. After some more pondering it is actually easy to comprehend; a more amplified network of friends and increased participation in city life makes room for lots more activities- sorry but no karate in the garage yet. Here are some highlights of the past month...

The beginning of September was marked by an exam-blahhh no one wants to hear about that so we'll leave it at that. The second weekend was a bit more exciting because of a holiday called "Friendship and Love Day," which takes place on the 14th of September every year. Yeah, I know, Valentine's Day in September, totally weird, but hey, just go with it. Instead of a hot date or sharing a cup of joe with one of my pals, I was invited by my classmate Natalia to accompany her, her husband, and 11 year old daughter to a small town about 45 minutes outside of Medellin, called Rio Negro. Basically, it is a large open area high in the mountains where the international airport lies, along with tons of country homes, or more commonly known here as "fincas." However, our agenda was to go to a park where there was a free concert by the famous group here in Colombia, Puerto Candaleria. Check them out on the internet, they are some pretty sick dudes who put on a great live show. Although there was a concert, the park also serves as a tourist attraction. Tourists can pass through it and see how life was like in the past in a typical town in Colombia. Kind of like Williamsburgh, Virginia, but Colombian style; don't worry, it comes with all the works, including the cheesy reenactments. After a long day, we headed to a pizza place for dinner then drove back to Medellin. On the way back as their daughter slept, Natalia and her husband had a nice long chat with me. I found out that he played professional basketball for Colombia's national team- totally makes sense seeing that he is the by far the tallest Colombian male I have seen down here, and will probably stay that way. Also, I hate to admit it, but he knows more about the Pittsburgh Steelers than I do. So, the next week in class I gave Natalia the Terrible Towel I brought down with me so that her husband could have some authentic regalia, ah shucks I'm such a nice guy (trust me, wasn't that difficult to part with seeing that I couldn't care less about the NFL).

Puerto Candaleria

Chiva!!

The following weekend was even better. I headed out to another small town about two hours from Medellin with my buddy from class, Santiago Bedoya. Now, Santi, he is a business man. I mean the dude is a force, not only is he studying for a master degree; he's working full time during the week developing business ideas for rural folk, AND helping run the family business-coffee growing and mining. Yeah, he's a boss. Anyway, I woke up early Saturday morning, packed and eager to set out on another adventure. This one was a little more, oh how do I put it, authentic...than Rio Negro. First, the bus driver set out like they were filming a remake of Speed, I almost lost my lunch crossing into the Andes mountains. However, after an hour of swerving and bobbing, Santi said we were arriving to Santa Barbara. WAAAAY smaller than Medellin, but a good representation of how the majority of Colombians live. It was nice to see an authentic town and the mix of traditional life with that of the modern. One side of the road you see trucks transporting coffee and the other donkeys carrying bags of fruit or coffee-one thing is for sure, Colombia hasn't forgotten its roots. As we got close to the church, I tried to bust out some technical Spanish and ask Santi if that was the old Parish. However, unbeknownst to me, I actually somehow fuddled it up and said a slang word for Paramilitaries (bad group of people here in Colombia that have killed and hurt many). As soon as the words left my lips Santi, with huge eyes said "What?!!" After he told me of my error we chuckled and kept moving, although it would be a lie if I told you I didn't take a double take before crossing the rest of the plaza. After getting a quick bite, assuming we were close to his home, Santi told me come on, we have another bus to take. Problem was, this was no ordinary bus...this was a chiva. Now I will let the pictures do the talking, but this is what we road for almost an hour across the rough mountain terrain to get to the country home of Santi. Upon arrival, I was introduced to the fam and fed a wonderful homemade lunch; pretty sure the raspberry smoothie drink had been prepared mere minutes before my arrival. Don't let anyone tell you otherwise, everything tastes better in the country.

Me and Santiago

After lunch, we headed to his Uncle's finca just up the road. Now, I have to point out, the views from these homes are pure greatness. The color and vibrancy of Colombia's landscape is astounding and puts many contenders to shame. Just take a look at the pics.

Tres Cordilleras

Now, the next issue was a business meeting of the family. Since the uncle, father, brothers, aunt are all involved, I decided to duck out and explore the farm when all of a sudden, I passed an open shed full of like 12 puppies. Cute, right?...Wrong. For the next half hour these dirtballs wouldn't let me be. I almost punted the one off a cliff because he wouldn't stop chewing on my shoelaces. However, even with all that fun, the time lagged on and on. Their meeting lasted I think close to two hours-it was sunset by the time they were done. I have to say though, my respect for Santi went way up because he seemed to be the leader in all of it. He is the perfect balance between small rural town and big city. He is very educated, but understands the less fortunate people and their needs; more importantly how to address them effectively. After the meeting it was party and food time, so we headed down to another Finca (don't worry everyone is welcome almost anywhere as long as you know someone) and prepared dinner: grilled steak, arepa, potatoes, rice, and lots of rum. We built a fire outside and talked for hours. It really was a nostalgic moment because it reminded me of camping with my family and how much I miss them. But, by 2am it was only me, Santi, and his middle brother. But even the strong grow weary, so we turned in too.

Waking up was painful, I decided to sleep in my contacts-worst idea ever. I woke up and could barely open my eyes and they were so red everyone asked me if I needed a doctor. So the rest of that Sunday was a pretty big wash. I couldnt tour the coffee production route like I wanted and I couldnt be outside because the light would burn my eyes. So after a few modest attempts to check out more of the farm, we headed up to his mom's place for our final lunch. It was Sancocho; a traditional plate in Colombia made with almost any kind of meat, but mostly chicken,  along with large pieces of plantain, yuca, potato, and cilantro. It is usually served with a plate of white rice on the side. Well...I had three servings, so I would recommend to anyone.
After lunch we sat on the porch and digested, all the while carrying on like family. One main question was "William, when are you coming back?" and as Santi and I boarded the bus back to Medellin, I thought to myself as soon as I get the chance.

Now that leaves one weekend left in September, but I must attest that the trip to Bogota deserves a blog post in its self. The only two things I can tell you now is it involves gold and over-dramatic male singers.

Cafe, au lait ...Pour Vous

Food and Drink. Two basic human needs that one must figure out pretty darn quick when residing in a new place. Luckily, I have had some friendly classmates and city natives show me the ropes of Colombian Cuisine. Here are a few pictures and short descriptions of some of the things I've tried so far:

Pitaya, my favorite fruit down here; soft and sweet center, makes perfect breakfast fruit.

Obviously, Avocado is big down here, never seen so many varieties.

Cherimoya, according to author Mark Twain, the best tasting fruit in existence..

Arepa, basically the Colombian version of a Pancake, except made from corn or flour. Much of the time spread butter on top or they can be filled with cheese....mmmm cheesy.

Palo de Queso- literal translation:cheese stick. These are good, especially after partying all night and you got some munchies.

Empanada de Carne/Patatas- Fried dough filled with meat and potatoes,pretty standard.

Coffee...Colombian style. This picture doesn't do it justice. The coffee here is incredible and I cant get enough. I might turn into the character Tweak from South Park if I don't curb consumption soon haha.

Aguardiente: The liquor of choice down here. The culture is to pre-game or just sit down with some friends in a park and pass between everyone some small plastic shot cups and consume til the bottle is empty. Not bad, but it isnt my liquor of choice.

 Now, I have only been here for a month, so I will try to update this list as I discover more gastronomical delights. But until then, you will just have to drool over the ones above.

Parks...lots of Parks

National Geographic?

This past weekend I had the opportunity to do some more exploring in Medellin. This time I decided to unleash the wild side and see some more of the diverse ecology that many natives rant and rave about from time to time. I had a friend of mine named Felipe come along with me since he is always complaining his girlfriend never wants to go see these cool places with him, so yeah, I let the bro-mance blossom a bit. We decided to head first to Medellin's Botanical Garden, which I must say is quite impressive. Not only do they have scientists doing actual botanical research and offer educational programs, they have some of the most impressive assortments of tropical plants I have ever seen from beautiful flowers to all kinds of palm trees. Take a look at some of the photos I posted below, these plants can speak for themselves...and I am sure they are saying something along the lines of "Damn...I do look goooood." I mean, not only do they have killer cacti and different breeds of orchids, they have Godzilla sized dung beetles and caterpillars the size of  small mice. They even have a Butterfly house-fun fact of the day, butterflies are only active when there is sunlight, Thanks Medellin Botanical Garden's Butterfly team! And of course, we can't leave out the copious amounts of public displays of affection steaming up the place. I mean, I thought Europeans were intense with PDA, but down here, Colombians give' em a run for their money. Come on though, with all the beautiful color schemes floating about and warm sun shining all day, who can resist?

Dung Beetle, so glad it isnt alive

Coral Reef like Cactus!

After we had our fill of Mothra and scary Jurassic Park like plants, we decided to stop at the Parque de los Pies Descalzos (Barefoot Park). No surprise here with a name like that, so you better kick those sneakers off and toss aside those smelly socks because certain parts of the park are off limits unless you are barefoot as the day you came into this world-except without all the gross embryonic fluid. One can't pass up on  dipping your feet in small square pools with your fellow tax paying citizens while sitting under the shade of the large palms. Or who could negate the jacuzzi foot jets, just waiting to massage your tired dogs after a long days work. These aren't public pools ladies and gents for all of you saying "ew...gross" The city makes sure they take care of these parks and they are as clean as a whistle unto my eyes.

I also must make a quick note of Plaza Botero, which is a place I stopped by myself last Sunday. Apparently this plaza is dedicated to the artist who sculpted the sculptures that litter the local square in front of the museum there. All these works of art were donated by the master Colombian painter/sculptor Fernando Botero. As far as I could tell, this guy really represents the people of this region in an extremely unique way, playing on their short and curvy characteristics. However, that is just one man's opinion, maybe you see something else, like some big dog who has been eating way too many Kibbles n' Bits?

Legacy of a Patriot- Dr. Ron Paul

Mocked, pushed aside, misunderstood, lied about...cheated. All of these words convey the way Mitt Romney, the GOP, and misinformed Americans everywhere have treated Doctor & Congressmen Ron Paul (name any politician you know who actually has a profession other than lawyer, liar, or corporate lobbyist?) for the last 20 years.

As stated in an article written on August 29, 2012, by Robin Koern, entitled Ron Paul Won:


"In all fields of human endeavor, winning by cheating is losing.

In a competition, when someone cheats, he gets disqualified. The disqualification does not make the runner-up the winner. Rather, it reveals that the man who appeared to be the runner-up had in fact been the winner all along.
In the race for the GOP nomination for president, therefore, Ron Paul won.

As the New York Times wrote yesterday,

Delegates from Nevada tried to nominate Mr. Paul from the floor, submitting petitions from their own state as well as Minnesota, Maine, Iowa, Oregon, Alaska and the Virgin Islands. That should have done the trick: Rules require signatures from just five states. But the party changed the rules on the spot. Henceforth, delegates must gather petitions from eight states.

When Mr. Romney and the RNC cheat so blatantly, they make the game no longer about politics: they make themselves ineligible for the vote of anyone who cares about his own morality, his own honesty or his own integrity — regardless of his politics. And from a purely practical standpoint, they invite Americans to ask if they want to live in a nation thus governed ."


It truly is a disgrace and sad story for this country to have had someone who most resembles what a modern day founding father might have been like, only to see him get thrown under the bus by the old guard and their party cronies; people who praise the founding fathers ideals but have no sincere interest at all in seeing them put into practice or taken seriously. Now before any of you stop reading this because you say to yourself "Oh, here we go again, another Paul-Bot rant" or "C'mon, you know his foreign policy makes him totally unelectable; we need a strong AHHMERICA!" Please, just give me a few minutes of your time to explain my opinion and what I like to think is common sense.

Air Force

First, Dr. Paul is the only candidate who actually served in the military. For all you NRA, gun-totting war hawks out there, that alone should have you all screeching like Peregrine Falcons swooping down on their prey, which is probably a terrorist. Secondly, he was a damn doctor for over 20 years. So Romney Care or Obama Care, who gives a crap because both plans stink. Why not elect someone who knows the health system, positives & negatives, who could also probably bring together some good health care advisers to his Cabinet as well. Nah, we should probably stick to the business man or community organizer/professor for health care ideas. Finally, his powerhouse characteristic is his knowledge of money and economics. Yes, the subject we all slept through in high school and college- Dr. Paul actually paid attention. He is a student of Austrian Economics, unfortunately not the type of economics taught in most schools and practiced by most nations, that would be Keynesian. Keynesian economics basically encourages governments taking the active role in running the economy when private sector tendencies lead to "undesireable" conditions. It is basically central planning folks. And once it gets a hold, it usually doesn't go away. Just ask the Soviet Union, oh wait...they don't exist anymore. It also believes spending money is the way out of debt, or better known as the famous phrase we all have come to know and love "economic stimulus." Does that make any sense at all? If my family was going broke, the bank wouldn't dream of giving us more money. We would be forced to buckle down, get rid of some cars, maybe even lose the house...all of this until the debt is paid. So why is our country any different? Because all we are doing is kicking the can down the road by printing more money through the Federal Reserve. As Arnold Schwarzenegger would say after hitting the Predator in the face with a log "...bahhd ideaa."

This is something Ron Paul talks about in his book, The Revolution: A Manifesto. When the Fed prints money, this causes inflation. What is that? Simple, there are more dollars out there than before chasing the relatively same amount of goods and services, WHICH makes the dollar value less. However, who gets to spend this newly injected money first? Governments and their friends(bankers, politicians, special interest groups). So that means these people get to reap the benefits of all this extra money in their hands while prices are the same as they were before they got this money. You see prices don't adjust right away when new money is added, it is a process that happens after the money exchanges hands multiple times. So, by the time that money reaches the middle class after being in the cycle for some time already, prices have adjusted. So the middle class has the double whammy, higher prices combined with a less potent dollar. Now, imagine what prices are like for the poor? By the time the money reaches their pockets, prices have fully adjusted. You see, we are destroying the middle class and the poor, well they are screwed. It is a hidden "inflation" tax on all of us not in the elite club. We are told the Fed is there to control inflation...they sure do alright. NEVER will you hear Mitt Obomney or Barak O Romna talk about this. Paul's economic savvy is enough to make any other candidate go cower in a corner and cry, but you don't know that because all you and the media care about is his foreign policy, which would actually makes us richer and safer. Google the word "blowback." Maybe you'll start to understand.

I think it pretty obvious to most Ron Paul is my hero. He is retiring from politics in January, which truly does make me sad in my heart. I will continue to read his books and listen to his wisdom. There is also my hope to seem him speak in person again before he leaves this Earth, to actually shake his hand and look into his eyes and say thank you.

In closing, I think he deserved a better end than what he received, but that is not for men to judge;  "For he who avenges blood remembers; he does not ignore the cry of the afflicted" Psalm 9, Verse 12.  For over 20 years...20 YEARS folks...he has been delivering the same message of limited government, smart fiscal policy, and liberty-look on youtube, his videos from 1980 are so similar to those of today it's scary. His nickname in Congress is "Dr. No", but at same time has the gentle demeanor of a grandfather, which my good friend Bono so often likes to point out. That is the essence of a great man, one who knows when to be brave and stand up for what is right; to speak with frankness, but always with sincerity and sympathy; whose deeds follows his word. A man of conviction, a man who cares about the poor and those taken advantage of...a clear cut follower of the words of Christ in my eyes. Why wouldn't we want someone like that leading us?

Good bye Ron :'(