Leaving Colombia is Hard

Photo credit

No, I don't mean it was emotionally difficult; physically getting out of the country is difficult, or at least the process of getting through security is. Upon the advice of our wise friend Wojteich, we left for our 8:15am flight at 4:30 to get to the airport by 5:00am. It started off normal, an attendant helped us check into our flight (he even spoke English) and we proceeded to the line where we could check our bags. Another woman, who also spoke English then wanted to play 20 questions in regards to our luggage: Are you travelling alone? Who owns the luggage? Who packed the luggage? When was it packed? (Oops, lied on this one. I said they were packed the night before, but David packed his on Sunday! I'm now on the watch list.) Has it left our sight since it was packed? Any electronics? Have they been out of our possession for repair recently? Don't accept anything from anyone.  Keep your belongings with you.  Don't let them leave your sight.  Oh and have a nice flight. On to the ticket counter. After my luggage was weighed I was sent around the corner to some man behind a window (but David wasn't...) and the conversation there went something like this:

Man behind window: Cuando llegaste? (I thought he was asking when I was returning. Note to self: study Spanish verbs over break)

Me: Tres de Enero

Man behind window: Enero? Solo Diciembre...

Me: Oooooh sí, sí, Augusto

Man behind window: (shows me my immigration stamp that says July 31) Julio?

Me: ....Sí, 31 de Julio pero....que pena, comiencé trabajar en augusto

Man behind window: Tienes tu cedula de extranjeria?
Me: Si, aca
Man behind window: Es el Español, siempre tan difícil para usted?
Me: No. Pero es muy temprano y no duerme mucho, que pena. Gracias.

And so I returned to the original counter with a new stamp in my passport, the same David got from the woman AT the counter. Then we were asked if we'd sit in the exit row and agreed before we actually realized what she was asking us. Then we went down to the security checkpoint. Great news about security in Colombia, you don't have to take off your shoes. But they WILL feel you up and search your carry on bags thoroughly; I'd rather lose the shoes. I'm not kidding (I rarely do), female officer hands under my shirts and brushing the waistline of my yoga pants. Good morning to you too ma'am. And then the kind police officer went through both my carry on bags, asking questions, to which I had to respond each and every time with "como?" so he could repeat and I could get a second chance to understand. He opened my computer case and smelled my laptop, which was weird. Guess that's a common place to hide your cocaine? Just FYI: they know. And then he proceeded to go through my clothes bag and rifle through my belongings from extra coat and last minute packed purse down to my underwear (that I always hide at the bottom). After all, my grandparents did teach me to always pack the necessities in my carry on. Embarrassing, and slightly violating.

THEN we had to go to the emigration counter to get our passports looked at again and our fingerprints scanned, and our passports stamped again.  Sheesh.

Finally we were at our gate and after a two hour wait, ready to board.  But not before they randomly searched bags again (not ours thankfully) and asked yet again if I had accepted anything from anyone.  Apparently Blondie looks like a good target for drug traffickers.

Once Was More Than Enough

Another part of the Christmas celebrations in Cali is a series of bull fights the four Saturdays before the holiday; after all, feria sin toros no es feria (feria or "fair" is the name of the of the time and celebrations leading up to Christmas) .  These events take place in at the Plaza de Toro in Cali, which happens to be the largest bull fighting arena in Colombia, and fairly large in comparison to others that our friend Wojciech visited in Spain.  When our Spanish teacher Nora offered us free tickets to the bullfight, we eagerly accepted, wanting to experience more of the Colombian culture while we are here.  I did not, however, know that the bulls are killed.  Did you?  How sad.  After Nora told us this I was a little less eager, but we decided it would still be an interesting adventure to see what the atmosphere was like t one of these events.  And so last Saturday, December 10th, we set off to the Plaza with Woj, Mike and Jeff (it turned into another boys + Cassie day) and an open mind. 

By the time the first bull was set loose into the arena, the plaza was nearly full with people and lots of families and kids, which I was surprised by.  David of course made a friend with the older Colombian gentleman sitting next to us who spoke pretty good English from having lived with an American family in Cali for nearly 20 years.  Situations like this are always amusing as we try to practice our Spanish speaking to them and they respond in English, it can get confusing.  I don't have a whole lot to say about the experience other that I would not do it again: once was more than enough.  Me and my open mind were able to see the skill involved in what the matadors were doing and I can see where the excitement and spectatorship come from, if you can get past what is actually being done to these bulls (which I will not discuss in detail).  And although the odds lie greatly in favor of the matador, my favor part was when one of them turned his back on the bull (something they all did) strutting with pride about whatever move he had just made and the bull came after him form behind.  Go bull!  Unfortunately, the end was the same for this bull as it was for all the others.  We were assured that they are well taken care of up until the time of the event, and they do not get thrown to waste, but are used for meat afterward, but I'm not sure that made it any better. 

Matadors entering the arena.

Pretty full plaza.

Woj, Jeff and Mike watching the bull fight.

So, yes, this could have been one of those things I take a stance on and refuse to go to for the sake of animal right, but the events were going to happen anyway and I looked at this strictly as a cultural experience.  In other words: please don't judge me.  I didn't enjoy it and I won't likely ever go again, but I think it is important to be willing to understand and at least attempt to find appreciation for the traditions of other cultures and countries, even if they may seem a bit gruesome. 

Christmas Time in Cali

This post is coming a little late, as Christmas in Cali sees to actually start mid to late November. I'm not kidding.  By the flirt week on December the holiday decoration section in Exito has turned into a toy and gift section as any Caleño clearly already has their decorations up by then.  But there's good reason for this.  In Cali, as well as the rest of the country, Christmas is a month long celebration, almost.  The season usually kicks off December 8th with celebration of the Immaculate Conception, the conception of Mary, not the conception of Jesus as many people quickly assume; do the math: December 8th to December 24th?  This isn't some creepy vampire-human pregnancy.  I can't believe I just made a Twilight reference (actually, I kinda can); if you don't get it just smile and read on.  Anyway, on the night of the 7th people celebrate the conception of Mary by lighting candles to guide her into their homes, also known as Día de las Velitas, Day of the Little Candles.  Bolivar invites the school community to celebrate the Friday before, which is where I go most of my velitas fix.  It was amazing to see so many families, faculty and staff there celebrating with candles, food, music and of course Santa.  Don't tell the kiddos, but it was actually Allain the physics teacher, not Santa.

Everywhere you go in Cali is decorated for Christmas, and there is an especially huge lights display in the north in the Rio Cali, the Alhumbrada.  The display itself is not specific to Christmas, the theme this year in fact was "Myths & Legends" and on the night of the 7th friends and I went to view the beautiful display after some cookie decorating and ornament making.

La Muneca

A favorite of my red-headed-mohawk-sporting-biology-teaching
 science neighbor friend Stetson.

Cutie Patootie

Although it was rainy and the ground was muddy (poor Lauren was in sandals!) and there were HUGE crowds, it was all together a pretty cool view and experience.  Can't wait to see next year's display!

The Colors of Salento: A Photo Post

Besides the beautiful views in Salento, there are also the fun colorful doors and buildings that I had fun photographing.  Here is a glimpse into the colors of Salento:

Salento

After leaving San Vicente, it took a little work for David and I to get to Salento, mostly because we chose to stay in the termales until the afternoon.  Leaving SanVicente, we had 45-60 minute jeep ride, including a flat tire change, a 30 minute bus ride from Santa Rosa to Pereira, another hour bus ride to Armenia were we could catch our 40-45 minute ride to Salento.  Whew.  It was a lot.  Regardless, we got there around 7pm, had a slice of pizza and walked around the square bit after checking into our hostel. We* went on a hunt to play pool, only to discover strange hole less tables with only three balls (I later discovered that I think this is Carom?) and then back to our hostel for a little reading and slumber.  In the morning we had breakfast at the hostel, where Mary Elena the sweet woman who owns the hostel convince David to have some coffee, because we were after all in the coffee region. 

Pretty garden area

Breakfast nook

Mary Elena was great.  She spent many years in the states so she knew English but only used it when clarification was needed, which basically meant we were getting Spanish lessons all weekend.  She told us about getting a jeep to Valle de Cocora and even drew a little map for us.  We made our way to the jeeps in the square where there were 6 other travelers waiting to go to the valley as well, so also seriously doubted, and even started to argue with, the driver about getting 8 people in the jeep.  Clearly they had never seen these jeeps before, sometime with 15 people in them.  Amateurs.  We were on our way, and shared a nice conversation with a woman from Vancouver who had been travelling in South America for 6 months and said that Colombia by far was the most beautiful country she had been in.  Ever.  I have to agree with her, although my travels are far less extensive than hers.  When we got to Valle de Cocora we found a guide and got on some horses to start our trek through the valley.  Often people hike up to the peek, but it being the rainy season it can get very muddy and several friends suggested the horses because it offers you a slightly better view and experience.  I loved it.  David, not so much.  Being his first time on horse, it was a little scary to be climbing steep rocks and crossing rivers and creeks (which I said before we went, but of course nobody* listens.  Our guide Norbe took pictures for us along the way, and I swear the man was a horse whisperer, clicking and whistling and making other randoms noises at the horses to keep them in line.

Oh, David found a friend.

Cowboy!

At the end of our ascent we stopped at a natural reserve where we paid $3.000 for a drink, like hot chocolate and $500 for the bathroom.  There were SO many hummingbirds fluttering around it was unreal and so beautiful.

On our way back down, I took my camera back from Norbe to grab some shot of my own.  That's right, I was riding the horse and taking pictures.  I'm a little more confident now than my first horse experience in Colombia.  Speaking of which, Amanda later went back and rode the same horse I was on that day and got bucked off; it wasn't just me, Serpentina was crazy.  Anyway, Valle de Cocora is home to these amazingly tall trees called wax palms that pop up around the mountainside and are quite the contrast to some of the farm land below.  Beautiful.

Real cowboys

When we got from our three hour ride, we stopped in the restaurant and I ate more trout before another jeep left to head back to Salento.  It was a little rainy when we got back, but we eventually made it out to explore the Calle Real, the main street in Salento with countless shops where we did the majority of our Christmas shopping. 

After our shopping we grabbed dinner at a place Mary Elena suggested, Alegria for some Italian type food and then found ourselves at a tienda turned bar/cafe for some live music.  David also introduced some Colombians to a Ruso Blanco (White Russian) as opposed to a Ruso Negro without cream or milk; they were very confused.  We planned on heading out by 10am on Sunday so we got to bed so we could get up early to check out the view from Alto de la Cruz, a 250 stair climb marked with the stations of the cross.  From there we were offered more breathtaking views of the mountainside.

And after checking out with Mary Elena we made our way to the square to catch a bus, argued (or attempted to since it was in Spanish) about the quickest way back to Cali, decided to do it his way and got on a bus to Armenia and finally back to our home sweet home in Cali.  This is a place I would love to go again and try my hand at the hike and of course do a little more shopping whenever I get the chance.

*David