Colombian Immersion and Diversion

I spent the past two weeks basically retracing my steps in Colombia. I stopped in Santa Marta, another city close to Cartagena, for a few days and met two British girls who I traveled with for the next few days. It was cool to have some travel buddies for a little while, and it turned out to be worth it because there's not much to do at all in Santa Marta. The beachfront is quite nice, except for the beach part. We did spend a day at a beach about 15 minutes away which wasn't amazing but was quite nice. The crazy group of gringos we had assembled had a lot of fun that day. We also did good amount of dancing at a local bar. The first night we went wasn't that amazing because the DJ kept scream/singing over the reggae/funk tunes. The next night was great though - a mix of salsa, reggaeton, pop and hip hop (and a little Michael Jackson set). I also met an interesting guy, a soldier who had just left Iraq, and we had long talks about the politics of the war, his brushes with death, his hopes for the future, philosophy, the existence of heaven and hell. He was my age, but confronted with the question of whether the people he had to kill would lead him to miss salvation.

My two friends and I agreed though that while Santa Marta is charming, it can become a black hole, which I define as a place time starts passing really quickly while you basically are not productive at all. In terms of cultural exposure, there was very little of it. Unlike the cumbia blasting through the centro in Cartagena, Santa Marta was pretty quiet. The highlight of my time in Santa Marta was actually a really great burrito; after months without my Qdoba and Mexican food, it was a refreshing respite.

From Santa Marta, we tried to visit Parque Tayrona, but were rebuffed by an intense rainstorm. We immediately had to turn back. We did get to Taganga though, a small beach town with some AMAZING juice smoothies. I had an excessive 5 a day (banana and oreo, strawberry mango, and local fruits like lulo and zapote - all delicious). Taganga was also interesting. Many signs were in Hebrew because of the high number of Jewish tourists. We met a pleasant group of guys and one girl from Israel who had rented out an apartment. As we passed around some Cuba Libres, my friend and I noticed that there was a drug binge going on - bongs, cocaine, acid. We made our way out after we noticed, but it was crazy. We went to a roof-top bar that was really fun, with a nice view of the city. There was also basically a weed beach we traveled to where we looked around and everyone was blazed. We were confused at why the smell was so strong, until a man explained it to us. (One thing that has been somewhat unpleasant is the tourism of cocaine. Apparently in Colombia its cheaper and good quality, so you'll meet some good people to hang with, but they're always buying it and doing it, and the fact that it's illegal and tourists have been thrown in jail creates an anxiety when you go out with a group who suddenly switches all their focus to trying to buy some; Colombia has so much more to offer!).

From Taganga, I said my goodbyes to my travel buddies Erin and Anna, and took my bus back to Cartagena for my flight the next morning. I would basically be re-tracing my steps. I met a great guy from Argentina and a nice New Zealand/Croatia couple who I had a long conversation with into the night. The next day I made my way back to Medellin to reunite with Diana and people at the Casa del Rosa. They're pretty much like a family. I love them! So helpful and nice. I then took my bus back to Cali where my flight would leave to Panama. In Cali, I got a better feel of the city. It's interesting how you can look a few blocks away but have a different view of a place. I took more salsa classes and look forward to continue my salsa calena at some point! I met some more good people. Unfortunately though, the weekend I had come back to Cali was the same weekend as the election, and rules were in place against drinking or selling alcohol, thus most places were closed. I didn't have my last Colombian rumba but I had a good time. I also had hoped to visit the Pacific coast, near Buenaventura and some of the small times with strong African influence. However, there were so many obstacles and differing views of where to go and how to get there, that I ultimately decided against it since my flight was so close. Like Esmeraldas in Ecuador, I felt like I missed the chance to become acquainted with Afro-Colombian music and cultural tradition because of lack of infrastructure and the reputation these place have of being quite dangerous. Yet I just see it as an excuse to return one day to see it. And the point of this year isn't to have an academic experience, but to have time to understand and reflect on Afro-Latin culture. The many possibilities to see Afro-Latin communities makes me content with what I have seen - in other words, because there's so much to see, I feel like there's no way I would be able to see an elusive "everything," if that makes any sense.

I arrived in Panama completely aware that I had entered a completely different world. Although Panama used to be part of Colombia, the differences were immediately stark, as I went back and forth with my cab driver about Plaxico Burress, Michael Vick, the Cowboys and the Jets in English, as we drove along the water with the back drop of modern skyscrapers lit up in the night - a scene many people rightly see as reminiscent of Miami. I'm in Panama now, still needing to explore the city after the crazy rainstorm today, already missing the charm and vastness of Colombia. I have about a month to go, and I'm more reflective in these last weeks, reading and writing, and thinking of what lays ahead while trying to remain immersed in my Latin American adventure. I'm hoping the distinct, fascinating culture of black/Afro-Panamanians will sweep me away from a wintery arrival at Newark airport that awaits me in a little over a month.

Sept. 11

It was difficult to understand the magnitude of the moment that morning 8 years ago. During a normal day of high school, caught in the doldrums of a repetitive daily schedule, word started spreading that the World Trade Center had been bombed. Students crowded around television sets in the cafeteria and we soon understood that it had been a plane crashing into the first tower, and the United States was under attack. Noone will forget the horror of that day, the helplessness felt by an entire nation. Many have discussed the post-9/11 era in America in terms of seemingly perpetual wars against extremists, in terms of nation-building and the spread of democracy, and in terms of a post-modernist sensibility of loneliness gone wild with the added loss of invincibility. I can't say I have personally felt that my world changed because of 9/11 or that living in my country feels significantly different. Certainly, having elected Barack Obama following George W. Bush in the post-9/11 political universe, it's difficult to talk about a new set of social priorities or a novel, hardened worldview brought about by that now famous act of violence by Al Qaeda.

However, what 9/11 has presented is the opportunity not only for our nation to resolve to live up to its core values, but for people to resolve to live up to their individual core values. While wandering through the old town of Cartagena looking for a place to eat dinner with friends, a Colombian asked me if today (now yesterday) is a day of remembrance in my country. I had no idea what he meant at first, but he pressed on, asking if the 11th of Sept. has significance. As I had a moment to hit myself in the head, and put on my U.S. hat instead of world traveler hat for a minute, I remembered the courage of thousands on that day - those who fought back, who saved lives...They are an inspiration. This traveling experience is valuable because as I think of all that I have seen just in Cartagena - the woman the other day offering her body for money to feed her children, the young man whose reply to being asked what he did in the past week was that he sold cocaine and weed, all the people struggling in this city and feeling hopeless - I'm reminded of all the structural changes that need to occur, but also the inspiration that people need to live up to their core values. One reason black people here, and other Afro-Latin Americans throughout this continent, disproportionately struggle with poverty, unemployment, hunger, and ill health, is because they lack those models or events upon which to build a sense of self-worth.

9/11 is tragic to think about, but I'm so proud that I live in a country where differences and divisions can be put aside to display a basic moral, human character in the most important of moments. If some of these black Colombians knew the story of the palenques (escaped slave communities) or Afro-Colombian politicians who laid the foundation for the national character of all Colombians, if these facets of history were in fact something the nation actively celebrated, I can't help but wonder if some of these people in Cartagena would be inspired enough to change their life trajectory...

Mi Color and the Beauty of Cartagena

I feel like Diddy when I walk Cartagena's streets. Since pretty much everyone here is black, I get shoutouts once every 10 minutes. What is funny is that people call out to me and say "Mi color!" - a clear reference to the fact that our skin color is the same. It's kind of become my nickname in this city. After only two days, there have been countless hilarious encounters. Like the guy who called out, "Hey mi color, we gots beautiful p*ssy here man." The very sad, desperate exploitation of women in this instance is only matched by the hilarious absurdity of such a comment being yelled in my direction on my first few hours in the city. I've been offered all kinds of crazy things besides women, some things I've never even heard of. I try to look for the humor in all of it though.

The most egregious instance came last night as I walked with two guys I had met in the hostel through the main square. I heard, "Yo whatsup m*thaf*cka! Hey my n*gga! Over here pahtnah!! Why you no respond man?" In my head I said to myself "keep walking, keep walking," until I realized he had gotten up to follow us. I knew a crazy conversation would ensue. This man had lived in New Jersey before, in Plainfield to be exact, where his family owned a restaurant. He told me a free meal waited for me back in NJ if I told them I spoke to their cousin, the short guy with the gold teeth. He went on and on for about 20 minutes about his stint in a Texas prison , and how his sentence was reduced from 6 to 3 years, after which he was deported back to Colombia. He told me he had three kids in the US and they all spoke Spanish and were quite smart. After twenty minutes of non-stop chatter, we told him about the friend we were supposed to meet (who of course didn't exist). It was hilarious to see him bothering a group of three Americans an hour later on the street, yelling to me asking if I knew them. The only other thing that matched this insanity was when this old lady passing by us on the street grabbed the balls of my friend from Ireland , and then cat-called him afterward. My mouth dropped. Good ol' sexual assault on the street. For some reason, all of this, despite how inappropriate it is, has just made me laugh.

People are generally extremely nice here in Cartagena even if they refuse to leave me alone or attempt numerous times to lead me to whorehouses. In a tourist area like this one, it's all business for them. Women are commodities, and everything is an opportunity for money-making. Despite these issues though, the pleasantness of the spirit of Cartagena's people matches the real wonder of Cartagena's layout and architecture. The old city is surrounded by magnificent walls and towers. Inside are winding, narrow streets and airy plazas, with horse-drawn carriages on every road. The romanticism of the place hits you immediately, with the lovers on the corners and the artistic brilliance in old statues and modern art. The square outside of the old city is magnificent as well, with fountains, colonial buildings and the vast Caribbean waters. Walking through Cartagena is like walking through a dream to be honest. The only thing is that it's a very hot dream. The weather is scorching and each day we all pray for a breeze, which surprisingly never comes despite the proximity of the water. The humidity is astounding. For this reason, I haven't been out for too long during the day, since I would most definitely sweat my clothes off (I sweat like Shaq!). I plan to venture out today though to take some daytime pictures. The weekend should also bring some more options as well. Like in Medellin and Cali, Cartagena is also a pretty chill city, with most people staying inside during the week, leaving empty streets late at night and very few places open.

I knew I would immediately like the city though when, on my first night, I wandered into a plaza where this dance troupe called Grupo Candela Vivo was playing some amazing cumbia music, very popular African influenced rhythm here in Colombia. I met some of them afterward - they were young, interesting, and quite talented. They also danced to folklorica music, which I saw the following evening. They're practicing every evening in the square for upcoming shows. This kind of spontaneous cultural exposition, free music and art coming from true musicians and artists, reminds me of Salvador in Brazil, which I am still hopelessly in love with. After a day exploring outside Cartagena, passing small islands and swimming at Playa Blanca, I hope I can see some more live music and performances this weekend and learn more about this romantic city. I'm sure the random shoutouts will continue...

Juanchito, Chango, and Salsa Caleña

You'd have to be heartless not to smile as a little kid sings ABC by the Jackson 5. I'm waiting in the airport after a very chill weekend in Medellin, being serenaded by a hyper Colombian boy who apparently is a Michael Jackson fan and future musical sensation in the making, and whose parents look completely disinterested. I didn't plan on stopping in Medellin, but so many people suggested that I do, so I decided to make the trip. It's an interesting city - quite beautiful, surrounded by mountains, with plenty of nightlife and a modern, pristine subway system. Most evenings I hung out in the Zona Rosa area, a neighborhood with countless bars, clubs, and restaurants with people I met in the hostel and who I had met in Cali. The highlight of going out at night was stopping by this bar playing funk music - a ton of James Brown. It was great. The crowd was quite mixed with some wild clothing and hair styles on display.

They also had some salsa in the back so I had the opportunity to practice what I had learned in the two classes I took back in Cali. They definitely helped! Salsa in Cali is different than anywhere in the world so it was cool to learn that specific style. Anyway, like Cali, Medellin is a more relaxed city, although there was definitely a bit more hustle and bustle. I finally made it to a futbol game, Colombia v. Ecuador, which was amazing. I actually thought I was Colombian for like 3 hours. It was such a familial, fraternal atmosphere - everyone making friends with those around them, offering each other snacks and drinks they had bought, as well as tons of marijuana (which was not allowed but I was surrounded by weed clouds). The score was 0-0 for awhile actually, but towards the end of the second half, Colombia scored twice! When they scored each goal, it was if each person in the stands won an all-expense paid trip to Bermuda. There was such emotional intensity and personal investment that was contagious, to the point where I was hugging complete strangers. It was a great game though!

My time in Cali overall turned out not to be anything too special. The city is a bit too quiet and laid back for me, to the point where during the week I had nothing to do (you know thats the case when you take multiple trips to the mall, although mall was real nice). Clubs were surprisingly expensive so going out too much wasn't an option. When I did go out, it was often in large groups of people from the hostel, all of whom were cool, but made the situation inevitably complicated, as each person had a different idea of what to do. What saved my opinion of Cali though is the richness of the salsa music and the ridiculously talented dancers that I saw. On Sunday night, a group of us, a mix of salsa teachers, gringos, etc., went to Chango, this famous salsa club, that draws some of the best dancers in the city, in Juanchito, which is kind of like the Harlem of Cali (uptown, predominantly black...). We entered the club and I was floored. The place was one of the coolest places I've ever seen. It had a 50's style, with low ceilings and two large circular rooms, with a dance floor in each one surrounded by curved couches and a bar in the middle. There were flashing, colorful signs all over, complementing the dim lighting and red lights.

As we sat down, I immediately noticed that some masters were in the building. This tall black man with a black hat tipped over one eye and a tall tanned woman with long curly hair and a flowy red dress were burning through the dance floor. Their feet were moving so fast, they were completely synchronized, and perfectly on the beat. Such a spectacle to watch, so much so that I was actually nervous to dance at first. I sat out the first few until a girl asked me to dance, and I assumed she was Colombian (she was actually from Spain). This fear gave me 2 left feet and I danced awkwardly as I wondered why she wasn't helping me out or telling me what to do. I laughed for awhile when I figured this out. Over time I got more comfortable and our group was out there dancing to every song. I fell so much in love with salsa that night as we stayed until 4am, as all the impressive dancers didn't seem to tire at all. The salsa teachers we rolled with were really cool too - they were young, like early 20s, and extremely talented, friendly and confident. One of the teachers was a black girl named Yamile from far south in Cali (my friend Nick from NY and I visited her house and met her family, as well as her ADORABLE niece who was my best friend for about 6 hours). She explained so much to me about salsa, about Afro-Colombian influences in the Pacific. And no matter the style of music, she could do it at a really impressive level. This is why I was mad excited when she told me how good of a dancer I was when reggaeton came on. Four years of grimy college parties with hip hop and reggaeton improves skills I guess. But despite maybe too many rum and Cokes, I had an unforgettable time and might try to go again when I go back to Cali for my flight out to Panama!