Well, folks, I’ve checked into my (hopefully permanent) new pad in Medellín, and into the University Pontificia Bolivariana (UPB), and am slowly on my way to becoming a part-time member of the faculty in its Education Department. The UPB is a mid-size private, Catholic university offering small class sizes and a student-attentive mood. The university offers both pregrado and posgrado courses in dozens of majors and concentrations, including well-reputed medicine, law, and engineering programs. Founded under a humanitarian ethic, the school’s instruction is supposed to executed under a guiding philosophy of philanthropy and knowledge for knowledge’s sake. The UPB might be recognized as the second best university in the city, after the very posh and exclusive EAFIT farther downtown in the Poblado area… For that reason, as can be imagined, the school attracts a very upscale and good-looking crowd, people who take care of themselves so well that I have thrice heard the school referred to, by third parties, as a “fashion show.” As for the structure of the campus, I appreciate the way the school’s architects have taken advantage of the favorable climate in Medellín in many of the facilities designs. For example, the dining area, or food court, if you could call it that, is a collection of open-air awnings painted in lively colors that reflect the friendly spirit of the student body. My favorite aspect, though, is the fact that the polideportivo, or sports and fitness center, has outdoor hallways. In fact, my weight room also has an open-air design, with only half-height walls that allow us fitness geeks to see across the campus and take in the year-round spring-like breeze from their perches on their military and bench presses. What a high quality of life, indeed! (On a seemingly unrelated note, to reinforce this idea, I’ve noticed that the Medellín Metro’s very slogan is “Calidad de Vida” or “Quality of Life;” along with a love for fitness, this idea certainly seems to be a public source of pride here.)
I live about 12 blocks away from my campus, making for an energizing and at the same time relaxing 15-minute walk to and from work each day. My apartment, owned by a Professor of Economics at the UPB, Juan Carlos Zapata, is shockingly modern, spacious, and comfortable. (In fact, sitting amid its amenities, I sometimes forget where I am and wake up thinking I might be in Miami or Santa Monica… Weird, but at least it does indicate I feel secure here…) On my walks to and from work, habitually I pass by Unicentro, a mall located between my apartment and the campus. Conveniently, then, most all commercial services I will ever need, including banking, cell phone servicing, haircuts, bakeries, and grocery shopping, are smack dab easy strolling distance between where I put my mind to the test and where I put my mind to rest. What is more, making mad dashes over to the UPB campus on weekends to meet with my fellow faculty members and students to play outdoor basketball and micro-fútbol, or soccer on a miniature, hard court with an undersized ball, is speedy and effortless. My workday mornings mostly consist of speed-walking to campus, haggling with the security guards at the front gate because I still don’t have my official faculty ID, and arriving at my faculty’s office typically Colombian ten minutes late (and nobody cares… I could get used to this!). Sitting in my little cubicle alongside a handful of other faculty members and grad students working in my department, I design lesson plans and print handouts while drinking black coffee out of my Fulbright mug, periodically glancing across my desk at the famous Rolling Stone cover of Obama imparting a warm smile (I must continuously remind myself who and what I’m here to represent), glancing again at photos I brought in of my friends and I back in the States (in line with Sanka from ‘Cool Runnings’ suggestion, “I did not come here to forget who I am or where I come from!”). Then I shoot the shit with my fellow faculty members, for whom, despite my best efforts to meditate, I am still too much of a stressball. “Get used to the mishaps,” and “Relax, man!” they always say… I still have work to be done to become a better Colombian!
Outside of my weekly English tutoring sessions and conversation clubs, my major teaching responsibility for the ensuing several weeks will be standing by my tutora, Olga Cardona, assisting the Oral 2 listening, speaking, pronunciation, and verbal skills class, which meets Mondays through Thursdays from 2:00 to 3:30 pm. We have about 15 students in the class, some more bored and some more verbally confident than others. In any case, teaching my Colombian students is among the most fulfilling activities I have undertaken. That Oral 2 is intended to be highly discussion-based and interactive really makes thinking up activities for the students exciting and breezy, really. All pregrado students all between the ages of roughly 17 and 24, they are mature and interested in professional development, yet also exuberant, genuinely friendly by nature, and smiling often. In order to keep these students engaged, my teaching style falls somewhere between fellow student, US cultural ambassador, and clowning comedian. I have found the most important techniques I can employ are to remain silly enough to keep the students laughing, while openly compassionate and serious enough to ensure that they feel comfortable and assured when asking questions. Striking this fine balance is a humbling and also comical experience: I have found that teaching students English as a Second Language, no matter what their age, is akin to helping toddlers learn to tie their shoes. There is something inherently youthful and naïve about how they approach the topic that requires care and utter patience on the part of the instructor. At first, coming into this Fulbright period I felt a bit scared by this stark reality. But surprisingly for me—generally a very impatient person obsessed with efficiency—I find something refreshing and deeply satisfying about training my mind to offer my students the tolerance necessary to improve their skills in the language. Perhaps as a result, already, one of my students, Raúl, invited me over to his place to play XBOX360 this weekend. So I gladly accepted the offer, and wound up at a much grittier, more boisterous, Latin-American-feeling neighborhood about three miles to the northwest of Conquistadores. Arriving in San Javier via Metro, I popped out of the station and immediately noticed the tastiest looking baked goods I’ve ever seen in South America. I ordered two cream-and-peanut-layered spiral sponge cakes for my student, Raul, and I, and a cafecito to get the evening started, of course. Soon after enjoying these cheap and delectable fantasies of lower-strata Medellín life, Raúl guided me to his hood. There was a local festival going on celebrating something about the founding or anniversary of our department, Antioquia. Reggaeton boomed from loudspeakers and makeshift stages, folks were outside on their porch steps drinking beer, conversing and laughing, and front porch grills smoked sausages and meat. This being a much-lower income neighborhood than the one in which my university is located, of course several strapped up military guards stood by anticipating any mishaps. (While I noticed that the soldiers really seemed like they were just happy to be around enjoying the festivities from the sidelines, Raul and I joked that these fellows were our personal bodyguards—see photo below.) Overall, visiting a neighborhood with a slower pace and simpler standard of living was refreshing and heartwarming. Noting the utter enthusiasm these people take into life while making do with much less materially, I was overwhelmed with a rush of gratitude, but also with a reminder of what is most important to one’s wellbeing: the energy of the people around you. Moreover, I was again pleasantly shocked to witness the stunning demographic and structural diversity of Medellín, a city where each barrio has a little something different to offer, aesthetically and culturally. Talk about a place where one will never get bored! I will be forever grateful to my new friend and student (but always friend first!), Raúl, for showing me a new shade of life in this infinitely intriguing city.
…But I digress. Back to the point of the classroom, what I mean to say is, there is a vague difference between student-teacher relations here in Colombia and that in the States that I happen to find revitalizing and enjoyable. There is simply less division between ages and professional certification groups here, which I think makes for an overall friendlier atmosphere on campuses. Time will tell, but if the rumors about high demand for English teachers here that I keep hearing are true, I might just consider taking on a full-time English teaching position in Medellín once Fulbright is over. I could do this to keep striking up rewarding friendships with students of mine like Raúl, but also, if for nothing else, to enjoy the climate in the City of Eternal Spring just a few months longer…
Turning to a sour page in this chapter: Friday I had my second major flirtation with the yarn ball of regulations that is Colombia. In the afternoon after hours of meetings required to get my schedule set up at the University, I figured I would make use of my free afternoon time and go open my Colombian bank account, with Colmena, as per the request of the Fulbright Commission in Bogotá. I had finally received my cedula number (roughly the equivalent of a US social security number) from Departamento Administrativo de Seguridad (Administrative Security Department, or DAS) the day before, after long taxi rides and hours and hours of waiting in line. At that point, the number was scrawled by hand onto the stamp the agent had placed on my passport, validating that my foreigner visa had been registered. But then, to my shock, I was informed that to receive my foreigner cedula card—the physical piece of plastic itself—I would need to return to the DAS office in 20 days to pick it up. 20 days! With this much wait time, I (now suppose naively) figured I would be able to open my much needed bank account during my free time on Friday afternoon. (I’ve been locking cash from my stipend in my sock drawer for a week, a strategy similar to that which my Afro-Brazilian grandfather has applied for decades...) Then, of course, on Friday the agents at Colmena rudely slammed me with the advisory that I “can’t do a thing with their bank” until I have my “official document”—that is, my official cedula card. After pleading with them, the Colmena employees insisted that not even the official DAS stamp, with my temporary cedula number, would suffice. And herein lies my serious bind, one so frustrating that I feel my head might explode. I can't pay rent until I get paid. I can't receive my funds from Fulbright until I open my Colombian bank account. I can't open my bank account until I wait an additional 20 days. And I am unsure that I can survive for 20 more days with merely the cash that is locked in my drawer. I feel like Thurgood in the movie Half Baked when he takes a girl on her first date in New York City with only eight dollars, narrating, “this was going to take some careful budgeting and maneuvering.” To add insult to injury, what really has ground down my patience this week in Medellín is that I can’t enter my University in peace because I don’t yet have an official carnet, a faculty ID, a plastic document which functions mainly to indicate that I am elite enough to spend time on the UPB’s well-manicured campus. I know that this country has significant security concerns that must be taken seriously, but this, I feel at times, is injustice in action… Today I finally got the paperwork filled out to apply for my carnet, and then realized I could not submit it because I would need to include with the biographical data yet another photocopy of my passport (this will be my 12th since entering the country!). So here I will be, waiting at least one more week while getting harassed by the security guards at the UPB gates each morning and afternoon, having them stare me down because they cannot possibly comprehend the meaning of my Commission-issued Fulbright ETA ID card. ¡Carajo! This country is a bureaucratic nightmare. If Colombia is second globally only to Sudan in number of displaced persons (true), then it should be rated second only to Nigeria in terms of paperwork scams and inefficient bullshit. I swear, sometimes I feel I’m not getting paid enough to muster the patience to absorb this nonsense. Lord help us.
…
On the party tip, I just want to declare that thanks to the company of my new buddy Juan David Mejia and friends (a big shout out to fellow Fulbrighter and West Coaster Tim Herrmann for the introduction!), I have found my new FAVORITE place for drinks in my new city. Late Saturday night, Juan opened my eyes to Alta Gracia, a shots and cocktails bar in the trendy Parque Lleras area (see http://parquelleras.com/ for more details about the madnesses that go on here). Parque Lleras is a gleaming, electrified public park in the hills of the el Poblado neighborhood teeming with fashionistas, drunks, youngsters telling jokes, tasty restaurants, sweet and salty street foods, discotecas, and of course, over-priced beverage lounges. Live Salsa, Electronica, Rock, and Reggaeton bang from competing establishments filling a roughly half-mile square perimeter. It’s really sort of an over-stimulating box of latino excitement. But what makes Alta Gracia specifically so appealing is fourfold: 1) the place serves has every sort of colorful, layered, sweet, salty, savory, or spicy shot-size cocktail I’ve ever imagined; 2) it has an abundant supply of Tequilas, which I’ve seen nowhere else in the city; 3) each gourmet and painstakingly prepared shot of artwork costs 4,000 COP, or just over two bucks, a price unheard of in Los Angeles or Vegas or New York for a 1.5-ounce alcoholic treat; and 4) it plays tunes by Calle 13, YIPPPEEEEE! Alta Gracia will surely become one of my regular spots. To Alec, Chris, Elias, Samm, and whoever else plans to come visit this year, rest assured knowing that I will be getting to know the bartenders very closely in order to smooth your entrance into this local gem: get pumped because you will love Parque Lleras, and especially this place!
For now, I need to run to go meet fellow Fulbrighters Jeannie, Matt, and Tim to hit up Parranda Vallenata, some bullfighting and music festival going on in a nearby municipality this weekend… Information about it can be found here: http://www.parrandavallenata.com/displayarticle1801.html
Cheers to many more adventures and eye-popping vistas as I flex my cultural ambassadorial duties! Thanks for tuning in, until next time.
aww i see you sol, living it up! medellin looks greaat and you already know i'm coming through...
ReplyDeleteugh the cedula drama continues. we have our appointment manana.
dee