A few miscellaneous things I've been meaning to talk about, but had forgotten to so far:
Narcos
I've always found drug trade violence and the war on drugs to be morbidly compelling and, as opposed to the characters on my favorite drug violence television shows (Breaking Bad and The Wire), Pablo Escobar was a real person, and there are tours in Medellin where you can see the places that were significant in his life and learn all about what happened. However, the tours are over $100 USD, and although I'm sure it would have been fascinating (and the TripAdvisor reviews for the tours were great), I decided I would learn more by watching Narcos on Netflix. I am now on Season Two, Episode 6. That was smart, right? I'm pretty happy with that frugal budget-traveler decision. #TravelLifeHack
Navigating Colombia's roads and traffic
1) Even with my super-clever Google Maps screen shot strategy, it is more difficult to get around on foot around Medellin than I feel it should be, because streets are so rarely marked at intersections; I might take a right from Calle 30 onto Avenida Playa, expecting to reach either Calle 29 or Calle 31 and orient myself from there, but at the next intersection, the cross street may not be marked at all! So then I might have to go another block or two or three to figure out whether I'm even heading in the right direction. It seems like such a basic thing to me -- how are street names not marked at every intersection -- but I suppose I shouldn't take it for granted.
2) There are very few crosswalks with lights for pedestrians to cross with the right-of-way, so whenever pedestrians need to cross a street, we just have to wait for a gap in traffic to rush across, "real-life Frogger" style. Don't worry though -- I am very cautious. I look both ways even on streets that I know are one-way, juuuust in case.
3) About 1/4 to 1/3 of the street traffic is scooters and motorcycles. With the cars and motorcycles communicating their presence to each other, there is constant honking happening. When I walk on sidewalks by the main streets with lots of traffic, all the "beep-beep"-ing makes it sound like the Roadrunner is here, getting into shenanigans at all times.
4) I get disoriented so easily in Medellin. The city is surrounded by hills/mountains that all look the same. Trying to orient myself with them does not work. Every time I get to a lookout point over the city and the sun is down and I try to guess where "north" is, I am wrong more often than not (who am I kidding, this happens even when the sun is still up). I wasn't the best at navigating through Seattle, a place I lived for over 10 years, but at least the city's geography was a tool I could use to orient myself from time to time. Here, not so much.
5) I have used the Metro to get around town enough times now that all 10 of the ticket credits on my Metro card are used up. It's odd how great it feels to have a sense of mastery over a foreign public transportation system. I don't know who Erol Ozan is, but I read this quote a few days ago and now I'm inclined to agree with him:
“You can't understand a city without using its public transportation system.” ― Erol Ozan
Couchsurfing.com
A former Bonderman fellow advised current fellows to use Couchsurfing.com, and I assumed they meant for lodging/housing (since it is free). It seemed much less secure than using a hostel or AirBNB, so I didn't look into it much. However, once I did, I realized that it is an amazing resource for finding local events to participate in that are geared toward bringing locals and travelers together, like language exchange nights, dance classes, etc. I signed up for Couchsurfing events for three nights in a row, but missed the first two, because better plans came up.... but Friday night there's an electronic music festival in the neighborhood I'm staying in now, Poblado (I had to switch AirBNBs for my last two nights in Medellin), and since it'll be my last night in Medellin, I'm going to do my best to check it out.
I feel pretty damn lucky to be traveling in the age of AirBNB, Couchsurfing, and Google Maps. I know that technology can have the effect of drawing people out of the moment and making mindfulness more difficult, but it also makes things VERY convenient and helps you meet people, so... in my analysis of "the effect of technology on travel experience," I think the benefits outweigh the drawbacks so far.*
*Results are subject to change.
Tuesday: MAMM & awkward salsa night
On Tuesday, I went to the Museo de Arte Moderno Medellin (the MAMM) with Daniela. The museum featured a whole gallery of the works of Debora Arango, which I didn't take any photos of (regrettably). However, if you want to check out some of the other pieces (and graffiti from across the street from the museum) that I did photograph, they are posted in the Facebook page here: https://www.facebook.com/groups/1732022830384249/
We had lunch at an Italian place nearby and ordered the daily special, which included bread and olive oil/balsamic vinegar, cream of mushroom soup, a salad, a mixed-meat lasagna, and a glass of red wine for under $10. That is a damn good deal.
After the museum, I watched some Narcos at the hostel and napped for a bit. Around 7:00pm, I rallied myself to get ready for a night of salsa dancing at a bar that had been mentioned in some travel blog article: Eslabon Bar. I put on my evening makeup and my one dress, and headed out the door. As I closed the gate of the hostel, Victor, the guy I had met a couple nights before, literally came out from the bushes. It wasn't as creepy and weird as it should have been to have a man popping out of the bushes to say hi to me, because he lived across the garden that separated our two buildings. I was just really amused at how suddenly he popped up out of seemingly nowhere. He asked what I was doing, I told him, and then asked if he wanted to come with me, which he did. I knew that bringing him would mean I'd feel obligated to dance with him the whole time, and I thought I'd prefer to go by myself so I could try dancing with a variety of people, but for safety reasons, it did seem like a good idea to have someone I knew (relatively speaking) there with me.
Victor didn't have any money, so when we got to the bar and found out there was cover, I paid or both of us. And then I paid for both our drinks. And then we found out that music didn't start until 10:30 (it was only 9:00). So we drank our beverages and watched the soccer game (Colombia vs. Brazil, Brazil won 2-1) that was playing at the bar in the meantime. Then went for a walk around the neighborhood to kill the next hour until music time. Victor wanted cigarettes, so he asked for money to buy a packet and a lighter, which I gave him.... as resentment started to build. Cigarettes and a lighter probably cost something like $2 USD -- if that -- but I was not feeling pumped about becoming an unwitting sugar mama. And then I realized what a jerk I was being, and that feeling resentful about this was incredibly petty. He probably didn't bring any money because he had no money, and the money I had, I had been given through an absurdly generous travel grant; I had barely earned it, and here I was feeling all Scrooge-y about it. Realizing you're being an asshole is never fun, but it is important work.
We got back to the club at 10:30 and waited for the music to start. It did not start at 10:30, nor at 10:45, nor at 11:00. Victor asked if I wanted anything else to drink, and I said no (I didn't want to spend any more money), but out of an impulsive sense of etiquette and wanting to overcome my miserly attitude, I asked if he wanted something. He did. He got a beer. At that point, I was feeling tired and not even in the mood for dancing. Victor smelled like cigarettes and I didn't want to dance with him. The one couple who was already dancing just reminded me that I was so very out of practice, and I began feeling intimidated. I told Victor I was ready to leave as soon as he was done with his beer. About five minutes later, we left. Considering how much money I had spent to get out there and the zero amount of time I spent dancing, salsa night felt like a bit of a bust. However, I did learn something about my own limited capacity for generosity, and now that's something I can get curious about and try to work on as this travel adventure continues forward.
Wednesday: The Three Amigos
I wanted to go to Parque Arvi on Wednesday, but when I woke up, Medellin was in the middle of a thunderstorm. Hiking nature trails in the rain is not fun for me, so I decided to postpone, although the last possible opportunity would be Saturday morning, the day I would fly to Cali. I crossed my fingers for good weather Saturday morning so I'd get to check out the park.
I tried to mail that Cartagena painting back to the States, but it was going to be $66. Um, no. I am glad that I supported the local artist and I was looking forward to giving it to someone back home, but that painting is not worth $14 + $66 = $80 to hold onto. I will try to bring it along with me on the rest of my journey, but if that becomes unreasonable, I can always gift it away to someone.
After a morning of Duolingo and getting laundry started, I went to Cafe Revolucion to read some more Wild. On the way back from the cafe, I ran into Jesus heading back to the AirBNB as well, and we made plans to go to Pueblito Paisa with Daniela that night to watch the sunset. As the sun went down, it got a tiny bit chilly, and I suggested we find some hot chocolate. So we sipped hot chocolate while staring out at the bright lights of Medellin, a city nestled serenely among geography that could either be considered tremendous hills or humble mountains. They are probably mountains, technically, although living all my life in the PNW has created a certain standard for my idea of what a mountain should look like... in any case, Medellin is truly a beautiful city. When people told me it was beautiful, I thought they meant in terms of the architecture, parks, and plazas (and I didn't find that aspect particularly striking), but when you see it from up high in its geographical context, it makes complete sense.
While we were in the tiny plaza of Pueblito Paisa, Jesus had the genius idea of using augmented reality (i.e. Pokemon Go technology) to recreate historical events at the sites where they happened. For example, you could go to the Lincoln Memorial, hold your phone up to it, and watch Martin Luther King Jr. give his "I Have a Dream" speech through your phone. HOW AMAZING WOULD THAT BE? Plus, it would provide added incentive to preserve historically significant sites; the structures would still need to be intact and visible through your phone's camera for the technology to work.
As we descended down the trail from the top of Pueblito Paisa, Jesus snapped off a part of a tree that looked like a pea pod, and opened it up. There were seeds inside, the size and shape of sunflower seeds, but green. He said they were edible, ate a few himself, and offered us some. I was like, "I dunno... you like to eat ants and those were disgusting," but I tried some anyway and they were actually quite delicious. It's fun to eat stuff straight from nature sometimes.
All night long, Jesus was saying everything twice: once in Spanish for Daniela, and once in English for me. (Sound familiar, Janelle?) I was supposed to go to a Couchsurfing language exchange / free sangria / Beatles music event that night, but I figured I was getting an even better language-skills-building experience by being with Jesus and Daniela anyhow. Whenever they would chat in Spanish, I would see how much I could pick up, and then take an educated guess at what they were talking about. Moments later, Jesus would translate everything for me and I would get immediate feedback about how accurate my initial translation had been.
We went back to Mondongo's for dinner, and Jesus told me that he had several PDF copies of Lonely Planet for South American and SE Asian countries that he was happy to email to me. I gave him my email address (m.martinez.seattle@gmail.com) and he was surprised to see that I was a Martinez (everyone always is). As it turns out, that's his last name too! So there we were: Daniela Gamboa, Jesus Martinez, and Michelle Martinez, three Mexicans (I know I'm not technically Mexican but shut up and let me have this), hanging out in Colombia.
Thursday: A Gringa, La Piedra & Guatape
On Thursday, I ventured off on a day trip to Guatape, a small but charming town about 2 hours outside Medellin. When I got on the bus, there were only two other people on it, and I sat down in a random seat by a window. The next two people to board, a husband and wife I assumed, asked me to move. I was pretty confused -- why do you want this seat when there are 30 others? Just sit somewhere else, ya weirdos -- but when the man pointed to his ticket receipt, I realized the seating was assigned, and I was in her spot. I checked my own ticket, saw "13" and figured that was my seat number, and moved to seat 13, one row behind the couple. As I switched places, I heard the woman say something-something-"gringa" to her husband. I may have been projecting my own self-judgment/embarrassment onto her intentions, but the tone did sound somewhat condescending. I got defensive, saying, "si.... soy gringa," like "yeah lady, I heard that. I'm white and my Spanish is crap, WHAT ARE YOU GONNA DO ABOUT IT?" Turns out seat 13 wasn't mine either, but once I settled into my actual assigned seat (#8), I was able to reflect on this "was I just a victim of racism?" thing I was feeling.
Here's the deal: I was not a victim of racism, because I can't be, according to an explanation I read somewhere about the difference between prejudice (judging people/making assumptions based on skin color) and racism (a social system that gives preferential power to one race over others). So, I may have experienced prejudice in the form of somebody judging my intelligence or ability to speak Spanish based on my skin color, and finding me annoying because of it, but as a white person, I'm not really losing any real autonomy in the process -- it just bruises my ego a bit. In any case, I feel like the experience did give strengthen my capacity for empathy, which will help me be more understanding and self-aware the next time a racially uncomfortable conversation gets brought up, because I "get it" just a tiny bit more than I did before. Even though it was a small, relatively insignificant experience, it was perhaps the first time a word was used against me as a white person that actually hurt. Let's face it: being called a "cracker" or "gringo" in the States means nothing. But here, being called a "gringa" in a derogatory tone reminded me that this is not my home, and could be meant to imply that I don't belong here and I am not welcome. So on that level, I am a little more aware of what other people may experience when racially charged words are used against them in a similar way.
Ok, let's talk about La Piedra ("the stone").
Is it just me, or does La Piedra look like she's wearing a sexy lace-up corset with all those zig-zag stairs?
View from about 1/3 of the way up...
...and the view from the top!
After La Piedra, I waited for one of the buses to come by so I could catch it to Guatape, but after waiting for about 15 minutes, I was offered a ride in a little motorcycle-taxi thing for $10,000 COP. That seemed like a pretty sweet deal, so I hopped in. The driver asked, "de donde eres?" and my brain just went into assumption mode, hearing what I expected to hear, which was "where should I drop you off?" so I said, "el centro de la ciudad." He had asked me where I was from. "De donde eres" is basically the second question you learn in Spanish, right after "como te llamas?" I ran through what he said a couple more times in my head and realized my mistake, so then I finally did answer his question: "Soy de los Estados Unidos." He asked if I was traveling alone (yes), did I have a boyfriend (no), why not (I don't know... because I'm traveling alone for eight months), did I want him to be my boyfriend (haha, no, but thank you very much for asking, sir). Good times.
A shot of Guatape from the top of a hill...
...and a close-up of these ballers with the patio hot tub.
In Guatape, I came across some kids playing soccer at a field, and right next to it was this motorbike-sport-complex thing, which I thought was pretty cool; I hadn't seen any of these training courses in person before. In the Olympics, the only gold medal Colombia won was for women's BMX cycling, won by Mariana Pajon. Biking -- both pedal and motor -- are a pretty big thing out here.
When I saw this, I had to take a photo. I know mannequins aren't exactly designed to advance realistic body standards, but you have GOT to be kidding me with that booty.
That's enough for one post, I think. I'll cover Fri-Sat in the next one :)