This post is going to be about a few things that haven't been dream-like, amazing, exciting and challenging-in-a-fun-way. It's going to be about things getting uncomfortable or boring and some mild disappointments.
POVERTY
On my walk from the AirBNB to the beach that I follow to get to Old City Cartagena (the wall-enclosed historical part), there is a small bridge I cross. The land around the water under and to the sides of the bridge are covered in garbage, and there is a foul smell. In Bogota, there weren't many signs of poverty, but there are several here. I'm not sure whether I should be asking questions about it and trying to understand it better, to make an effort to just offer some help to people who seem like they could use it, or just notice it for now, and not try to relieve some of the discomfort it's bringing up by doing something to help me feel better about MY role in it all.
I found myself looking at people and wondering what they might do with themselves if they were born into more affluent circumstances. Looking at one woman, I thought, "she could have been Beyonce" -- and of course only Beyonce can be Beyonce, and it's not as though "being Beyonce" is the height of human potential and achievement (yes it is), but I just wonder how much potential in people is never tapped, not even close, because they don't have the resources and opportunities to make, build, create, explore what they would want to, given the support and opportunity. Or maybe I'm making up stories about other people's lives, and they DO make, build, create, and explore plenty of things that enrich their lives with creativity and pride and joy, despite the restrictions of poverty.
I feel awkward talking about this at all, though, because this is the thing about poverty and social injustice: you can't say "they seem fine, being poor isn't that big a deal," because that's just justifying unfair systems that make disproportionate incomes possible, enabling economies to give the bulk of profits to a small percentage of people at the top while the majority of workers see proportionately less and less of the fruit of their labor. Poverty breeds despair, which leads to addiction and violence, and the whole society suffers along with the poor. At the same time, however, you shouldn't look at poor people and assume they're miserable, their lives are awful and they need your help, because that is demeaning and no one wants pity like that. So what's a more humane, respectful approach? I'm not entirely sure. In fact I'm not at all sure. I suspect that it has something to do with treating everyone as equals, and doing what one can to influence policies and community values that foster greater equity in society. But that is vague and not something I can get involved in while I'm here; even if I could, would they want me to? It has been a very long time since I've asked myself this question, but seriously, what would Jesus do? I would trust his judgment on this one.
GETSEMANI
This is the article that piqued my interested in Getsemani: "Get to Know Getsemani, Cartagena's Coolest New Neighborhood." When I got there, I walked around for a couple hours, but I was having a hard time feeling the magic.
I got some lunch at a restaurant where I'm pretty sure I asked if I could "saltar" (jump) outside instead of "sentar" (sit) outside. Either way, the server said I could, and now looking back, that seems like a missed opportunity. Not that I wanted to jump outside, but I totally would have if it meant the server would think I was a fluent-in-Spanish weirdo rather than someone who just made a basic language error.
A photo from inside the main park in Getsemani:
Along one stretch of the gate surrounding the main park, there were about 15 separate but nearly identical book stands -- it was like that area was zoned for books and nothing else. I might have bought one if I could spare any room in my backpack, but instead, I just took notes and planned to buy a few of them on Kindle...
The highlight of my meanderings through Getsemani, though, was without a doubt, the stop I made at a pet store, where I met this lil guy. (Pets, in Spanish, are called "mascotas," which I think is great. I definitely wanted to take this puppy with me around the world as a travel mascot buddy.) I stuck my fingers in his cage and he licked them and it was heart-melting. It seems that nearly all my friends in Seattle are getting dogs and dog people are the best, and I really want my own wittle puppy fwend.....
Anyway, the day I walked around Getsemani it was also overcast, which may have colored my mood a bit. I would also find out a couple days later that Getsemani is not renowned for its daytime appeal, but for what it offers in terms of nightlife -- after sunset is when the magic of that neighborhood comes alive.
PLAYA BLANCA
Amalia advised me to book any tourist activities through one of the travel agencies in the neighborhood, since they would be able to provide better customer service and refund money if an event had to be cancelled (which may not be the case with other, independent bookers.) So I went to Opitours, and booked two activities: Playa Blanca for Friday ($15), and el Volcon de Totumo for Monday ($20). Not too expensive for full-day activities, lunch and transportation included.
However, I should have checked the forecast for my day at the beach, Playa Blanca, which I expected to look like this:
...but after a the heavy downpour of rain all morning/early afternoon, really ended up looking like this:
Ok yes -- that still looks like a beautiful white sand beach and the fact that it's overcast doesn't seem to be that big a deal. But this is what it looked like from the window of the bus on the way over:
You can't tell so much in that second picture, but it is still raining in that one, and most of us just ended up sitting under that canopy for the first few hours of our day at the beach.
On the bus over, the tour guide asked me a question in Spanish, and I didn't fully understand, so I said "yes" and whatever I said yes to cost $20.000 COP (about $7 USD). When we arrived at the beach, it became clear that I had rented snorkel gear, which I did not want. Lesson learned.
While I was chillin' under the canopy reading my Kindle, a vendor approached me named Tete. He showed me a bunch of little sculptures he made from a type of stone that, according to him, is found ONLY in the local area. He said he wanted to move to the states and asked if I would take him, and we had a laugh. He recommended that I go to one of the nearby islands, and I said "only if you can promise sun!" So he grabbed one of the Indian figurines and put it to his ear like he was calling the spirit of that person, made some fake conversation noises, and said, "done!" He was very funny and charming. Then he said I had pretty eyes and that I was fun, so clearly he is a student of "How to Win Friends and Influence People" because I ate it up and bought one of his figurines. It's a parrot, a gift for my host family, because they have a parrot named Beto (the one who made fun of my laugh).
Lunch: Coleslaw, fried plantains, rice (which was a little sweet... I think they added some cinnamon?), and an entire fish!
After lunch, I went back and forth about whether to get in the water or not. I figured it would be warm and good for swimming, but I didn't bring a real towel -- just a sarong -- and I was concerned I'd be wet and uncomfortable/cold if I got in the water and couldn't dry off properly. After a few minutes, however, I decided I would go for it.
What finally got me in the water was not the realization that I would never be here and have this opportunity again, and it wasn't choosing to live more in the present and not worry about whether I would be wet, cold and uncomfortable afterward, but something even more compelling and powerful than all that. I had to pee.
The water was warm (and not because of the reason I went in there), but once I got in, I honestly didn't know what to do with myself. Playing in the water by yourself feels kind of weird, and I'm not yearning for social contact and connection badly enough yet to ask strangers if I can hang out with them, so I got out of the water once I was done "helping the world conserve toilet paper," as it were.
I rented a lounge chair near the water and enjoyed watching everyone else swimming and going out on boats. There was a little girl about Lucia's age (my four-year-old niece), and being reminded of my nieces back home made my eyes well up a little. Sometimes it's hard to remember that I have my whole life to get quality time with family and friends back home. Right now my job is to focus on quality me-time and time with people I am likely to never see again, because those relationships still count for something also.
There were several dogs roaming around (only one of them was clearly starving, the rest seemed relatively healthy), and this little guy kept me company for a while. Let's call him Sandy, because originality is overrated.
After Playa Blanca, I showered all the sand off me, and Amalia made us some Cartagena-style hotdogs: served in a hoagie bun, and topped with a ketchup-mayonnaise-blend sauce, potato chip crumbs, and pineapple marmalade. It was delicious. I told her about Seattle-style hot dogs (cream cheese, grilled onions, and jalapeños), which I cannot wait to have again.
Speaking of Seattle, wearing my Seahawks bracelet every day has not resulted in random connections with other travelers from Seattle so far, but I stay optimistic. It is a subtle kind of signal, but I think someone will pick up on it eventually...