Ah, what a second week in Medellín! The week started off with a startler: Monday night I had my first dose of feeling certain that I would either get mugged or killed since arriving in Colombia. Anxious to maybe find a better bargain on a place to live, I supposed it was time for some shopping. Somewhat over-adventurously, somewhat stupidly, I insisted on going out to see an apartment that had a room I considered renting, thinking I would have little time later in the week, due to school-related activities. It was the accommodation of a member of my faculty’s friend, a dude named Edward that I had never met. Optimistic and quintessentially gringo, I figured Edward would be cool enough since my colleague, Guillermo, recommended him. After an easygoing dinner out with two of my fellow Fulbrighters, Jeannie and Tim, it was roughly 7:30 pm when I headed via Metro to meet Edward in downtown Medellín. During our phone conversation (through which I admit, as with all Spanish phone dialogue, I had trouble catching a full range of detail), the stranger, Edward, had explained that his apartment was very close to “a Metro stop,” without clearly specifying which one. When I arrived in the Center, which many will tell you is not so safe after dusk, Edward was waiting. After introductions, we jumped into a colectivo, or one of the city’s seemingly thousands of congested microbuses that shuttle folks from commercial areas into residential neighborhoods. Little had I realized that Edward was taking me some place very, very far away. Bouncing along in the colectivo, Edward finally informed me loud and clear that he was taking me to Envigado, another municipality that forms an expansive suburb to Medellín’s southeast. While I happen to understand Envigado is just another place where working class people of the larger metro area live, I wasn’t immediately too concerned, though I also happened to feel a conviction that it is wrongheaded to stumble into a place like this, without a trusted guide, afterhours. With the colectivo rumbling along for several minutes, I soon started to feel knots in my stomach, my gut kicking me to trust that I should not venture into unknown hoods via shoddy public transportation with a Colombian man I don’t know—at night! Fifteen or so minutes passed and Edward and I were still on the bus. I nervously realized that we were somewhere way off the beaten path, miles upon miles south of my university. While doing my best to remain calm and friendly, running through the motions of ice-breaker questions with Edward (“where is your family?” “What do you teach?” etc.), I couldn’t help but notice that we were descending into a district that was increasingly poorly lit, pothole-ridden, vegetation-scarce, and generally sketchy. I thought, What is my outlet plan? I don’t know where on earth I am, or even if the taxis are safe to hail off the street here… But there is no turning back now. With the way the guy was asking me questions, my mind trailed back to the US Embassy orientations in Bogotá and the special agent admonishing the Fulbrighters never to give out personal information to unknowns… Give no names, and no specifics, I scolded myself. By the time Edward and I finally hopped out of the colectivo, we continued toward the apartment by foot for about three blocks. “Excuse me,” I asked Edward, “but do you mind me asking what stratum we’re in?” He replied that we were in the fourth. (Colombia’s official neighborhood class division system runs from 1, poorest and arguably most dangerous, to 6, wealthiest and arguably safest.) Not quite believing him, I looked around and noticed the amazing number of padlocked sliding aluminum doors shielding closed businesses, a feature signifying a need for reinforced security. Sensing at this point that I was no less than 10 miles from home, and noting it was now approaching 9 pm, I shuddered as Edward admitted that burglars had recently stolen the padlock to the first-floor outer gate of his building. It began to dawn on me that this had been a bad idea from the beginning. But I climbed up to see the man’s rather dilapidated apartment, met his dog, and made my way out as soon as I could squeeze away. Upon exit, I was facing another dilemma: take a taxi off the street alone in a neighborhood I don’t know (US Embassy says “no!”) or hop into another colectivo back toward a Metro stop in a neighborhood I don’t know (US Embassy says, you guessed it, “no!”). So, oddly enough, I decided my best bet was to walk toward a Metro station, for at least there were still a few people out on the streets. Although I halfway jogged a frightening 10-or-so-blocks, watching constantly for shadows behind me, and even passing by a street sign that merely read nothing other than “PELIGRO” (DANGER), I made it out of that hole, whole. Sighing with relief once I reached the shiny floor and bright lights of Envigado Metro station, I thought, how ironically rewarding that the cheapness of life in Latin America makes me appreciate mine so much more? Needless to say, I will not be taking up a spot in Edward’s apartment. I know what started with me just being myself, an impatient gringo economist eager to gather price information, wound up being a bit of an unnerving 1.5-hour episode. But I’ve been again reminded that in Colombia, I must temper my foolish haste. It is exactly this sort of experience that makes a Brazilian-gringo get back to his apartment and take a deep breath, kissing the sky to thank the universe for the security and comforts that have blessed my life.
…
Life is good in Medellín, and I'm where I want to be, but it's also challenging. For instance, teaching in a university whose technology department is underequipped sometimes frustrates me. (Already, one day I almost had to cancel an entire lesson because the classroom’s projected computer inexplicably would not turn on.) Learning to be far less sociable than usual because I'm tired from work and because I know about 10 people in a city of 3 million is a stretch of loneliness at times. Becoming grumpy at the end of days because my brain is tired of needing to think, listen intently to, and speak my third language 10 hours per day also sometimes makes me feel off my rocker. But all of these are worthy challenges. I just keep trying to remind myself that I'm here to live out my diplomatic destiny and that everything will settle just where it needs to be. After all, I'm here to serve. So focusing on that single class in which I can offer my students an exciting medium through which to learn English is what drives me most. As I feel I've said three million times, life moves slowly in Colombia... And I'm gulping absorb that truth and live with it, smiling.
I continued to enjoy teaching this week, even amid a degree of misfortune. On Sunday, my tutora, Olga, had a death in the family. Understandably, she came to work on Tuesday after the Monday holiday quite a wreck, and I knew it was time for me to step up and take on some added responsibility. I told Olga that I was fine with her going home that and Wednesday afternoon, promising that I would teach our shared class, Oral 2, alone until she felt better. Though this was only slightly nerve-wracking, I was excited for the challenge again: I feel I can employ more creativity and laughter in my lessons when I teach alone. Since the week’s topic was Active Listening and Listening Comprehension, I designed a set of listening exercises to American Rock and Pop music designed to stimulate the students interests in figurative language, American geography, and American pop culture. Here is a sample lesson from Tuesday:
AMERICAN ROCK N’ ROLL ACTIVE LISTENING EXERCISES:
1. "I don't Want to Miss a Thing" by Aerosmith:
Lyrics: http://www.lyricsfreak.com/a/aerosmith/i+dont+want+to+miss+a+thing_20004490.html
Song/video: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=0sbQ0hqH9ZU
Karaoke Video: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Ny4LZ5OB8hQ
Discussion questions: What does Aerosmith represent in the American pop culture consciousness? Why is the band popular in Colombia? Why has their brand image been so popular globally?
2. "It's My Life" by Bon Jovi:
Lyrics: http://www.azlyrics.com/lyrics/bonjovi/itsmylife.html
Song/video: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=vx2u5uUu3DE&feature=av2e
Lyrical video: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=9SKFwtgUJHs
Discussion questions:
a) What does this song say about supposedly valued cultures of independence, individualism, and impatience in the United States?
b) Comment on the themes of rebellion and freedom suggested in the song and video. Are these distinctively North American values?
3) "Californication" by Red Hot Chili Peppers:
Lyrics: http://www.lyricsfreak.com/r/red+hot+chili+peppers/californication_20114735.html
Video with lyrics: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=JQYJRw4R4-Q
Official Music Video: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=mn67vSHIdOs
Discussion questions:
a) In global mythology, why do some people dream of going to California?
b) What does California represent amid the popular culture of the USA? What does California represent globally?
c) What do these lyrics, and the song title, suggest about the supposedly “open” sexual culture of California?
d) Why is Hollywood important? (Think about the term "silver screen," noted in the song)
e) Is the image of California presented in global media, and in this song, based on fantasy or reality?
When we continued on Wednesday, I had the students listen to Jay-Z and Alicia Keys’ “New York State of Mind” in order to stimulate their interest in learning about the Hip Hop mythology of the Big Apple, and in discovering new English slang. The vocabulary question and answer session that ensued was dense! My students were all impressed by the amazing number of colloquialisms and street language terms that could be contained in only one song—or even in Jay’s first verse! We wrapped up both days with a reward, playing the silliest listening exercise game known to man—telephone! Overall, I can say that the songs plus my made-up nonsensical statements used in the game provoked great curiosity and laughter. I can hopefully say with confidence that the week’s lessons were successful.
At long last, after two weeks of waiting, I have my schedule fully made up at the University (which, from now on, I may simply refer to as “La U,” as many of us say here). I waited and waited through another bout of bureaucratic gridlock to have the schedule issued. Ah, how I love the “speed,” “efficiency,” and “punctuality” of Latin America! First, I needed to convince Olga that I am at La U as a Teaching Assistant, not a full-time faculty member, getting her to cut my presumed 40-hour workweek to the Commission-mandated 20. Then, Olga had to go get our rough outline approved by the Education Department’s Decano, or Dean. At that point, the Dean then again wrongfully insisted that I should work a minimum of 40 hours per week, which I again rejected. Finally and suddenly, days later, the two of them became convinced that I, a Fulbrighter paid by a Commission hundreds of miles away, not by their own University’s coffers, should not hustle full-time. I got the approved schedule in my hand on Friday afternoon. At that point I was excited to find that they had awarded me a great gift: no official responsibilities on Fridays! That means I can dedicate those days to practicing volleyball with La U’s rec league, carrying out my supplementary research proposal on urban and agricultural development, and, who knows, maybe even sleeping… Or, better still, traveling! They’ve also allowed me a reasonable chunk of time each weekday to take my very own courses in Spanish Linguistics and post-grad-level Political Science, into which I plan on enrolling in the coming week. My schedule looks something like this:
| TIME | Monday | Tuesday | Wednesday | Thursday | Friday |
| 8-10 am | English Tutoring/ Assist Written Communication 1 class | English Tutoring/ Assist Written Communication 1 class | (FREE) | English tutoring/ Assist Grammar 1 class | (FREE) |
| 10 am-12 pm | SOL’S CLASSES | SOL’S CLASSES | SOL’S CLASSES | SOL’S CLASSES | (FREE) |
| 12-1 pm | Conversation Club | Lesson Plan Design | Lesson Plan Design | Conversation Club | (FREE) |
| 1-2 pm | LUNCH! | LUNCH! | LUNCH! | LUNCH! | (FREE) |
| 2-4 pm | English Tutoring/ Assist Oral Comm. 1 | Lesson Plan Design | English Tutoring/ Assist Oral Comm. 2 | Lesson Plan Design | Volleyball baby! |
| 4-6 pm | English Tutoring/ Assist Academic Reading and Writing | Workshop* | Workshop* | Workshop* | (FREE) |
*The title I’ve created for my Cultural Workshop series, in attempt to make the idea a little less bland to those students volunteering to stay around campus late to attend, is “Dialogues and Friendships Between Colombia, the United States, and the Americas”
As an aside, a big congrats to my fellow Fulbrighters! We did it live and made El Tiempo, arguably Colombia’s biggest news daily, on Wednesday. Here’s the link to the story: http://www.eltiempo.com/vidadehoy/educacion/la-comision-fulbright-envio-a-28-becarios-para-investigacion-en-colombia-_7863525-1
Aside from work, work, work, I’m also making some new friends, piece by piece. One, Natalia Roldán, a family friend of the Tomas and Jesse Estes family, invited me out for meals twice this week. Natalia is a young lawyer in town who, like me, enjoys eating Paisa-style grilled meat, munching potato empanadas, and watching soccer. Her boyfriend, Sigi, runs a small snack shop near the Estadio, or Stadium zone, where we can happily do each of these, plus sit around on the patio, crack jokes, and laugh it up all night if we wish. The two of them are convincing me to prefer Medellín soccer club, the “team of the common Paisas” over the apparently more pretentious La Nacional, the other big outfit in town. So the question becomes: choose Red or Green? (Either way, it doesn’t seem to matter as much as some people think, as I’ve happened to learn that during his heyday, Pablo Escobar bankrolled both teams anyway…) I know that Natalia, Sigi, and I will become great buds: I look forward to visiting some nearby fincas, or ranches, and watching live soccer matches with Sigi and the Roldáns soon.
Wednesday night, I made it to my first outing with a new acquaintance and fellow Tequila lover, Daniel Perez. Daniel is a good friend of one of the members of the Tahona Society, a Tequila-promoting “brotherhood” that I was welcomed into earlier this year during my tour of Jalisco, Mexico. Thank goodness for the international networking afforded by Mexico’s glory product! Daniel and his girlfriend, Yuliana, took me on a vuelta, or spin, out to Sabaneta, a municipality to Medellín’s south with a cowboyish, country-like feel. Lured by the colorful lights and windows full of animal figures, the three of us entered Dulce Jesus Mio, or “My Sweet Jesus,” probably the most strangely decorated bar I’ve ever seen. The place, covered with stuffed animals, paper sculptures, and lit up trinkets of all sorts, is set up to resemble a small “village,” complete with a mini saloon, church, a paper mache-like doll of former President Álvaro Uribe, and several original “Wanted” posters searching for Pablo Escobar… What a hilarious and strange trip… I must return there on a weekend when the place is actually running some business, and see what the fuss (if any at all) is really about.
Medellín never stops surprising me with its high-culture and arts offerings. Thursday after class, my new friend and student (but always friend first), Raul, along with his buddy Carlos Andres, invited me to see a “rock show.” Now anyone who knows me knows that I’m not such a fan of rock, but of course I said yes to the offer, thinking it would be another good chance to meet some new locals. When I arrived at the scene to meet Raul and company, little had I anticipated I would be running into a musical act that was truly top-of-the-line. The venue, the Parque de Pies Descalzos, or “Park of Uncovered Feet,” named so because of its barefoot sand gardens, boomed with the sound of a delightful orchestra playing from atop a decked out stage at the front of the park, covering many classic rock tunes. Soon, the announcer grabbed the mic and in a deep baritone Spanish voice said that we were witnessing the Medellín Polyharmonic Symphony at work. The 60-or-so person orchestra, complete with trombones plus a forty-odd-member choir, was an extravagant sight. The collective played songs by Queen, Prince, the Beatles, and others, in versions that were much more delicious to my ear than the originals. Talk about a different kind of “rock” show! In typical Medellín August evening fashion, inevitably it began to rain, about halfway through the show. But this did not deter the transfixed crowd. Raul, Carlos Andres, and our friends huddled beneath two umbrellas on the park steps and continued to marvel. It was really something to be enjoying a professional symphony play an outdoor show for free—something that might cost close to US$100 in a place like San Francisco or Chicago. Once the show wrapped up, my new friends and I continued on to investigate the Parque’s bamboo garden—and to bump into all of the evening couples it hides. Feeling in high spirits, the group of us polished off the evening with a beverage sitting at the restaurant patios alongside the park, enjoying the breeze and the lights glowing from within the bamboo garden. I can say it was a great way to start the weekend in my favorite Latin American city.
Friday night I finally had to do something much anticipated and truly special: take in vast views of Medellín from the now famous Metrocable. Raul invited me for an evening ride up to the tippy top of Line J to kill some time. This elevated and inclined section of the Metro, which sprouts east and west from the main north-south line, is a revolutionary gondola device, connecting the comunas, or lower-strata neighborhoods in the hills, to the city center. This tremendous machine is a unique work of innovation and engineering achievement. Apparently built by a French firm, the Metrocable is essentially a declining and ascending gondola of the same type you might find at Aspen or in the Swiss Alps—only it is about twice as long as one you might find at a ski resort, and instead of moving yuppies up a hill to enjoy champagne powder, it transports hundreds of city dwellers an hour who depend on it to get from the slums into the Center for work. It is groundbreaking because it allows the city’s poorest residents to make the trip into the city for commerce in half an hour, as opposed to what might have been up to two hours in conventional street traffic before the elevated lines were built. A week or so ago, when I mentioned I wanted to ride it to a friend, she jokingly responded: “Oh, the Metrocable! Well, you used to ski, right!? It’s basically like a gondola you must have ridden, only there are slums underneath it instead of snow!” This is a slightly sad but likely sound description. From the very highest and most remote station of Line J, Aurora, Raul and I had a jaw-dropping 270-degree view of the Medellín Valley. No city on earth I’ve ever heard of runs a transport device this boldly crafted and this boldly oriented toward social justice. Standing at my perch trying to soak in the size of my city and the might of this high-tech, humanistic achievement, I was simply blown away.
Raul and I wrapped up the week with a Sunday afternoon feast at the apartment of his friend, Nataly. Each contributing 3,500 pesos, or less than US$2, toward ingredients, we ate frijoles, or bean stew, chicharrones, or mini pork sausage, patacones, or fried plantain banana chips, thick slabs of pork, steamed rice, avocado, guacamole, hot sauce, and drank a new It was a traditional Paisa banquet fit for kings and queens and… Cowboys. As Robin has rightfully pointed out about bandeja paisa, eating this way is an easy way to a quick death. But nothing is more purely Medellín. Tonight I will sleep full, with a smile on my face, dreaming of new cattle-ranching conquests…
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