I've arrived in Medellín and the fantastically lush but temperate Aburrá Valley and I have to SCREAM, first of all, that THIS IS MY CITY! It has the climate of Los Angeles, the colors and energy of Salvador da Bahia, and the hospitality of Jalisco, Mexico... I feel GREAT. My tutora/University liaison, Olga, picked me up Friday morning at the international airport to drive me down the Valley into my new home city. Unfortunately, I immediately had to inform her that my body made it here after a series of disastrous mishaps on the way from Bogotá; my baggage did not. The bloody driver hired by the Fulbright Commission picked four fellow ETAs and I up very late Friday morning from the hotel in Bogotá, under-equipped to carry four passengers + bags, wound up hiring an extra taxi to chug the luggage, chose the wrong airport terminal, made us arrive at the correct terminal 25 minutes from takeoff time, and gave us no choice but to get on the plane without checking our luggage, or not get to Medellín at all. This is because, as we all can imagine, everyone plus their aunties in this stinking country want to get to Medellín for the Festival de las Flores this weekend—so there would be no available space on Avianca flights for at least three days... My bags are currently being guarded by the Fulbright Commission’s travel agent at the Bogotá Avianca terminal. I have received confirmation e-mail from the Commission folks that they will be shipped to the Medellín domestic airport by cargo plane some time this weekend. But because Saturday is a regional holiday in Antioquia and Sunday is, well, Sunday in Latin America, I will not receive my things until Monday at 9 am. I’m oh so glad that after one too many mishaps at São Paulo’s Guarulhos and Paris’ Charles de Gaulle airports, my constant policy of keeping at least a pair of basketball shorts and a toothbrush in my carry-on is firm, unwavering, and faultless. Oh wait—this happens to be the one day in the last five years of my existence that I forgot to do exactly that! ¡Caramba! What a nuisance: welcome back to Latin America, the land where everything functions punctually like Swiss clockwork, and foresight for logistical planning is razor-sharp... NOT! I will rock the same outfit all weekend for the festival, and enjoy trashing my lone pair of dress socks in the basura by Sunday afternoon! Ha. Oh well, I am here and safe and have bought a toothbrush and a bar of soap and now, thanks to my new Colombian mother, have a satisfied stomach full of steak and empanadas.
I have checked into my temporary host señora's pad in the upbeat but still humbe enough Laureles neighborhood and it is very interesting “international hostel.” My temporary host mother and her daughter, 22, are both named Ivette. Ivette senior, not to be confused with “Ivette chiquita” has hosted various exchange students and visiting scholars from my institution, the Universidad Pontificia Bolivariana for several years now. She cooks them delicious food and gives them a good deal of freedom. The house sits right next to the most beautiful glass-infused cathedral I have seen in Latin America, five-or-so blocks from a major mall and shopping center, and about four blocks from my university. To put icing on my cake, we are a five-minute Sol-style speedwalk from the nearest Metro stop, El Estadio. Ivette has one Spanish and one German exchange student, as well as one Indian visiting professor, living here now. There are a courtyard and upstairs balcony where we, the United Nations delegates of Medellín, can watch telenovelas and play cards and chat. The Ivettes are both very sweet but I'm not sure how keen I am on taking up the option of remaining here, under the constraints of a host family constantly inviting me to functions with them. On the other hand, living here will provide for constant opportunities for conversation, and will keep me from feeling too lonely. If I do stay, the monthly charge will be a bit more than I'm eager to pay on my Fulbrighter salary. Ivette says that the minimum "contract" she's willing to accept for my stay here is three months, which sort of makes me uncomfortable because it would preclude me from moving out to something cheaper or better, or in the event I get sick of these people, until late October or early November. But laundry, good wireless Internet, and great food will be included. The fact that I will not need to worry about preparing food here would be nice for the first bit because it would allow me to get better oriented in the city and more focused on my lesson plans during this introductory phase. But it might also make me feel guilty if I go out and treat myself, spending more money on aguardiente, the local staple liquor made of cinnamon-infused fermented sugarcane, sipped habitually out of paper-and-plastic Tetrapacks. The location is really terrific but I need to consider more... I welcome your remarks.
On Friday night and Saturday, I enjoyed my first taste of Medellín’s nationally reputed Festival de Las Flores. Different venues around the city host comedy shows, live music and dance performances, and flower exhibitions throughout the week. For about half and hour Saturday I watched a very colorful antique car parade, complete with dancing girls and bountiful flower displays spread across many floats. It was nice to see the Paisas (people of Medellín), both old and young, out and about wearing their traditional cowboy hats, drumming, and freely sipping aguardiente.
Saturday afternoon, I finally met up with my dear friend Sonya Fierst, another Pitzer grad here doing her Rotary scholarship, after a 1.5-year hiatus. Crazy that the last time I saw her was at Pitzer’s graduation ceremony in Claremont, el Californio, in May of 2009. And now we are living merely a couple of miles from one another in Medellín! We had a delicious lunch of bandeja paisa, the regional staple plate of Medellín, which contains thick slabs of pork bacon, pork sausage, shredded steak, rice, a fried egg, beef-marinated beans, and a fat slab of avocado. Mmmmm, mmmm, mmm, what a tasty HEART ATTACK on a plate! Sonya and I met a man named Jeremy, who runs an English learning program for Afro and indigenous Colombians in the city center. We went to his apartment to have a conversation club with five of his students, enjoying views from the 10th floor balcony of downtown and laughing hysterically at American culture trivia games. The students, many of them blacks from rural areas of Colombia that are studying at universities in Medellín on scholarships, were curious and a total kick. I thought Jeremy’s teaching exercises made for great practice and brainstorming for my very own classroom activities.
And now for my first taste of this city’s internationally renowned nightlife scene. I'm recovering from an absolutely wild Saturday night of rumbeando out on the streets of El Poblado, a very trendy neighborhood in southeastern Medellín. What an insane night. Sonya, her American friend, Colin from Boulder, CO, and a hysterical Colombian named León and I spent about 5 hours straight dancing at a club called Deja Vu. The place played appropriately LOUD Reggaeton, Dancehall, and Hip-Hop on two floors, and showcased step dancers upstairs, green laser lighting, and smoke machines. Exactly as I anticipated, I discovered that the Paisas party like it's nobody's business but their own: very rarely have I seen a region of people drink with such a speed and furious passion and look more comfortable lighting up the dance floor. Being in an upscale Colombian club feels like being in an Armani Exchange model shoot. These people’s flamboyant style brings my life that much closer to feeling like a Hype Williams-directed Wisin Y Yandel music video. This country, but more particularly this city, are simply amazing in terms of their vibrancy, party-friendly spirit, and hospitality. Medellín's climate feels like that of Santa Monica, CA: T-shirt weather most of the year, throughout day and night. The city also exhibits a liberating (but still in many ways oddly traditional and conservative) Wild Wild West atmosphere that conjures a strange mix of Miami, Florida and Dallas, Texas. Machismo and sexiness rule. It is a strange vortex of qualities, combining elements of extreme modernity with an antique cowboy-like attitude. But I love it and at this point feel there is nowhere on earth I’d rather be…
Tomorrow it appears I may move into a new apartment in the Conquistadores neighborhood… More updates about that whole process are coming soon…
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