It's 5:00 somewhere

Brilliance. I have decoded the only Spanish that I need to know when walking around town: the response to "What time is it?"

There have been 5 separate occasions (yes I keep track) in which someone has approached me and mumbled something in Spanish. Each time I had no idea what they said (I'm pretty good at Spanish when I  have some idea of what to expect, but when random people catch me off guard, it's a little more challenging) and I give them a blank stare. They proceed to point to their wrists (or mine) which obviously means,"What time is it?" Five dollars says they have no clue that they have successfully communicated using international sign language. From here there are 2 options: 1 - show them my watch or 2 - attempt to tell them the time. Both are equally effective and the person is satisfied.

Today, it finally sunk in. If a random person asks me something I'm just going to respond with the time. Ha! It worked! I was sitting in a cafe and a man leaned over and said something to me. Did I understand what he said? Heck no. Did I tell him the time? Heck yes. Was he satisfied? Completely...or he just heard my accent, decided I couldn't understand him, wasn't going to pursue a fruitless effort to communicate with me, chuckled to himself, and went back to reading.  Either way, he settled back into his book, so from now on that is my default. Just tell people the time.

Ha! I can't wait for the moment when someone asks me something else...maybe, "Do you know where the closest bus stop is?"  and I still look at my watch and respond, "6:30"

I'm usually pretty successful at being the crazy gringa. This just gives me another opportunity to fulfill this role.

Quote of the Week #4

On the last day of each month I have “class meetings” with my kiddos. It’s basically a 15 minute exercise where they tell me things I can do to make the class more enjoyable for them and then they brainstorm ways in which they can make class more enjoyable for me. They love having some input in things and it also gives me feedback on how I’m doing. To start each class meeting we always draw 2 names and then go around the room and everyone (including me) has to say something nice about those 2 people. It was my turn and I proceeded to explain that I liked how this one girl wasn’t afraid to be herself, was a lovely individual and very unique. A boy in front looked shocked and then blurted out, “Mease! Isn’t that a man with his balls chopped off?”

At this point I pretty much lost it. Ha! He had thought I said “eunuch”. After about 15 seconds of giggling. I went to the board. English lesson for the day: unique does not mean eunuch.

Of Course I'll try Monkey Brains!

Wow. I have been shown the coolest fruit ever: granadilla. STOP. WAIT. Before you type “granadilla” into the magical google box to see what it looks like, let me take a stab at explaining it to you.

I’ll start my description with the way it was described to me, “You’ve never had granadilla? We like to call it monkey brains...you'll see why.”

Ha! Yes! Exactly what I was hoping a fruit would be described as. Not quite, but I went along with it.

Granadilla resembles an orange but has a much thinner shell. I call it a shell because it is also much harder. At first glance you may think it is an orange or a tangerine, but then upon picking it up it is much firmer and feels kind of hollow. There is where the resemblance to citrus fruit ends.

To eat the granadilla you must first crack the shell and peel away a piece of it. Upon removal of the piece of shell, small black seeds suspended in a snot-like clearish fluid are revealed. This is the part you eat.  I was talking to a little one and she said she likes to suck the guts out and swallow the seeds,  but I prefer to hold the shell like a bowl and scoop them out with a spoon.  

Now for the flavor: first you get a hint of sweetness mixed with slight tartness from the goop. Then, if you choose to bite the seeds (I guess they help with digestion? Ha!)  you don’t taste much but you get this incredible crunch which complements the runny gel. It is quite marvelous.

What makes this fruit even better is that it is one of the most popular fruits here. They are real cheap (I bought 6 today for under $1.50) and they can be found everywhere. I think I found my new fruit to accompany my breakfast every morning. 

Who needs an apple/orange/banana when you can eat sweet monkey brains?

Quote of the Week #3

This quote actually came from last week, but heck I thought it was pretty good. So this is a 2-part story that culminates in the quote.

It's towards the beginning of class and one of my students raises his name, "Mease, Maria Jose wants to ask you a question but is too scared to. Can I ask you a question?"

To have a kid ask you, "Can I ask you a question?" always raises some red flags. Then to have a preceding comment such as "....wants to ask you a question but is too scared to." really causes some hesitation. But, I don't have much to hide from my students so I shrugged and said sure. (bring it on little ones, bring it on)

"Do you like Timmers?!"

Timmers is a 7th grade science/math teacher from Canada. He's tall, has a swimmers body, dark hair, bright blue eyes, handsome, and athletic. Every girl student here is in love with him.

"Sure" I respond, "He's a really nice guy and he's fun to play volleyball with" I know they are wondering if I have a crush on him (which there is NO reason they should think that), but I'm not going to give them the inkling that I was even considering that.

"No mease!! Like to do you like like him."

Ha! There it is, out on the line. "No, I really don't. He's just a friend." I said it pretty straight forward and wasn't even blushing because that's really how I feel. Like I told them, Timmers is great, but not like that.

Then the class proceeded to convince me to date every single male teacher in the building. What about Mr.Gordon? No. Pacho? No.  Juan Carlos?, yeah you'd be so cute with Juan Carlos. No. Hodges? No. What about music teacher Juan Carlos? No. Then the wise guy shouts out, "Mr.Proudy!" Finally, YES!!...they laughed ...(Mr.Prouty is a 65 year old retired teacher from the states who is brand new this year. He has a wife and a family and the kids refer to as Santa Clause.) It was my little joke to end the badgering.

So here is where the quote comes in. During last period of that day one of my 9th graders who was in that class came to visit me and just say hello. We were talking and all of a sudden he blurts out, "Miss, don't you WANT to get married?" Well, Santiago, of course I do!I'm just patiently waiting for the right person.

What's with it kids, is it THAT bad that I'm single?

I pretty certain they think that I'm in my late 20s, so maybe they're just trying to help a sister out? Times a tickin? Do I really need help in my romantic life from 9th graders? Wow, that's a confidence boost right there.

..."Miss, don't you WANT to get married?"...someday. Yes, someday

Kids Make Life Exciting

Let me tell you something I’ve found: no matter where you go, kids are kids, kids are cute, kids want to play/run/laugh, and kids say the darndest things!

Along these lines I have 3 brief stories:

#1: Picture a 4 year old girl sitting on a bus with her doll. She is gently stroking its hair and talking quietly to it. Isn’t that a nice little scene that could bring a smile to someone’s face?  Now replace that doll with a black tennis shoe. Ha! Now that just makes me giggle AND that’s what I witnessed on the bus a few days ago. This little girl was sitting alone on the bus, one of her shoes (not like a cute shoe, but a black tennis shoe that is required for her uniform) was off, and she was cradling it and gently petting it. Every so often she would ask it a question or tell it something nice. It was great! It doesn’t stop there. She was also a very sleepy little girl (what 4 year old isn’t after a long day at school?) so as we continued on, her eye lids got heavier and heavier. Before long the head bob was starting. You know, the one where the little one starts to fall asleep and their chin drops to the chest and it wakes them up? Well as her chin dropped to her chest, her nose went full out inside of her shoe. I sat there chuckling to myself. I must commend this little one: #1 – thank you for making me laugh #2 – girl, you’ve got one heck of an imagination!

#2: I was walking up the sidewalk the other day and about 50 yards ahead of me I saw a little girl (around 5 years old) accompanied by an older gentleman and an older lady. The first thing that caught my eye was the man was holding the little girls hand: cute. The second thing that caught my eye was in the man’s other hand he was holding a cigarette: fail. Bro, you’re supposed to be setting a good example for this little one with whom you are walking hand in hand! Then, as I approached them, the little girl’s voice chimed in (I’ll translate for you gringos :) , “Grandpa, they told us in school that it’s bad to smoke. You need to stop. <fake cough> <fake cough> <fake cough>” My eyes were then drawn to the woman ( I assume the grandma) as she let out a giant belly laugh. She continued to laugh as we passed each other and the little girl continued fake coughing. The whole scenario brought the biggest smile to my face. Way to go little one, watching out for the health of your abuelito!

#3: As you may know, I ride the bus to school every morning. What you do not know, is the cutest little guy also rides my bus. He’s probably around three, has the biggest brown eyes, and always comes on the bus with a smile that takes up his whole face. His eyes are full of light and he’s ready to take on the day! Just watching him get on the bus is enough to turn a sour day into something wonderful. Can’t I get on the school bus like this every day?

Well, what can I say, kids make life exciting.

The Cleaning Lady Comes to Town

 Well here we go, another surprise in Colombia. A pleasantly peculiar surprise, but a surprise none the less. Something that is incredible common here (at least in the upper class) is to have a maid to clean the house. My apartment is pretty small and I keep it fairly clean, but I decided to give the maid a go. I’m certain her income probably dropped when the other foreign teachers left, so for 30,000 ($15) I figured, what the heck, let’s help a lady out.

Her name is Maria. I’m fairly certain she cannot write and is probably uneducated, but that’s okay. She left me a simple note: “Limpiaranos, gracias, Maria” She wanted me to know that she cleaned…as if I couldn’t tell. She also dotted all of her i’s with hearts. That made me smile. I hope to meet her someday.

Well I got home late from school yesterday and after a long day decided to take the elevator up the 4 floors. I usually take the stairs, but yesterday I was just lazy…oh wait, today I was too. Tomorrow I will resume my use of the stairs...maybe. Anyways, I got off the elevator, turned right, took the next right and was blasted with the smell of bleach. Hm, I bet they cleaned the floors today? Then I opened my door to a chlorine gas chamber. The smell had seeped into the halls. Whew. Must. Get. To. Windows. Must. Ventilate. Before. Passing. Out. I made it to the window, swung it open and then looked around. The place was spotless.

I decided to explore my quaint apartment and to my surprise found that Maria had gone above and beyond what any cleaning lady should do. Here we go:

First- the living room: she rearranged my furniture. I had put everything against the walls and to be honest it looked quite drab. Maria put them at unique angles, moved my end tables around, shuffled my chairs, and wa-bam – my apartment looked like it had undergone a flip. Maria even took care to put my decorative pillow on my couch with the corner gently folded. It was so ascetically pleasing. I was grinning like an idiot.

Second – the kitchen: I made my way to the kitchen and found several surprises. I opened the refrigerator and found a container of spaghetti+tuna+hard-boiled egg+ketchup. It was an awfully nice gesture, but I was saving the spaghetti for one of my teacher friends and had bought the tuna for a specific recipe. Oh well, I guess she thought I could use some help int he cooking department. My refrigerator is empty. What a kind lady. For real. She also rearranged what few things I have in my refrigerator. It looked perfectly bare, but perfect none the less. Then I opened the freezer compartment of my fridge. It had needed a good defrosting and I was just waiting for it to get worse before tackling the job. No need to do it now, in the time Maria was here, she did it for me. She also emptied and re-filled my icecube trays. Awesome. Alright, now we move to the cupboards. She organized all my food, moved my cups, and made sure everything was perfectly in line. Next I opened the 3 drawers in my kitchen. The second drawer down had been my utensil (spatula, peeler, measuring cups, etc.) drawer and I had been meaning to move everything to the top drawer. Yet again, something I don’t have to do: Maria must have read my mind!

At this point I have been giggling consistently for 2 minutes. It gets better.

Third – Laundry area: In the laundry area I keep my supermarket bags and cleaning supplies. Maria took every single plastic bag and folded it into a perfect triangle. Seriously, this woman is incredibly detail orientated.  As for the cleaning supplies, I lifted up the bottle of bleach and realized she used ¾ of it. I found the cause of the chlorine gas chamber. It’s alright though – I just won’t buy any more for next time she comes! She also ironed my pants that had been hanging to dry. Good thing, because I suck at ironing.  (Side story: Last week I put on a shirt, looked in the mirror and decided it needed to be ironed. I took it off, felt like an adult, and waited for the iron to heat up. I did the job, put the shirt back on, rechecked myself in the mirror and realized it didn’t look like I did a thing. I paused, thought about it for a moment, and decided, heck with it – I’m going to school. I’m not QUITE a real life adult yet.)

Fourth – my bedroom: So I peeked in all my drawers and I’m fairly certain that she refolded everything. She also organized all my shoes, perfectly placed them on my shelves and folded my sweaters. I didn’t think they needed to be, but Maria must have wanted to pass some more time. My bed was also flawlessly made and I liked how it looked so much that I duplicated it (or as closely as I could) this morning. Thank you Maria – these little things just make me smile. Oh yeah, one more thing: I have chapstick, eye drops, glasses cleaner and my cell phone on the side table to my bed. Maria carefully lined them up so they made a straight line.  Another thing that brought me joy.

Fifth – the bathroom: Alright, I’m impressed by the bathroom. Every single towel was precisely folded, she rearranged my soap/shampoo to line up perfectly, and she took care to make sure I had as much counter space as possible (even making my toothpaste stand on end.) It looked like it could have been on a commercial of cleaning supplies. The whole sparkle and everything!

So despite the ample use of bleach, I am incredibly impressed with Maria. I wish each of you reading this could come home to my apartment after she has cleaned. I'd invite you over for scones if I could only get my oven working! None-the-less, a clean home is a great feeling after a long day. Maria, wherever you may be - Thank you!

Quote of the Week #3

This is from one of my students and the entire class just about died laughing.

"Mease, you should take off your pants."

Ha! Yes, that was said to me this week. Now lets talk about the contextual information...

So every once in a while I take my kids on a walk through the school ecopark. It's really quite beautiful and at the bottom of the hill there is a set of stone tables and benches in a circle under a pavilion. I enjoy taking my kids down there because it's beautiful, it gets us outside, and we can still do work down there. Anyways, we were down there today and I was wearing sandals. As I was talking to them I must have been standing on an ant hill because all of a sudden there were ants covering my feet and starting to bite me. I began jumping around like a fool. Owe. Owe. Owe. That's when the line comes in: "Miss, you should take of your pants." There was an eruption of laughter and we all shared a moment together. Poor guy didn't mean it to come out like that, but it did. Whew, what a good laugh!

"Mease, you should take off your pants." 

Heed your mother's advice

Electricity is an incredible thing. I don't think about it often, but when I do I am always amazed. Then I get to thinking about what would happen if electricity were to suddenly stop working. Man, would we be in for some problems. Anyways, electricity isn't the topic for tonight's narrative but rather those little things we plug stuff into: outlets.

This is weird, I know, but whenever I was in the states and I went to pull a plug out of an outlet I could here my mom's voice in my head telling me to go pull the plug directly out of the socket instead of reaming on the cord half way across the room until it came out. How lazy was I that I would rather struggle yanking chord than walk 10 steps to pull it out (but I know you've all at last contemplated it before). Growing up, my mom always insisted, with good reason, that we gently pull it out. Her reasoning was that jerking it out could bend the prongs and it would ruin the plug. Now that I'm an adult (or at least pretend to be sometimes)  I still feel guilty if I don't walk over and gently tug it out. Mom, I blame you.

So, you're probably wondering how this relates to Colombia. Well here goes: you can't yank cords out of plugs in Pereira either. I know because I tried. It was the end of class and I was rushing to get everything put away (this is starting to be a common thread in my stories). My laptop was plugged in and the chord was a whole 4 steps away. I grabbed the chord to pull and then paused. I swear I heard my mom from half way around the world, "Leeee - Aaanne." Then I sat there deliberating if I should heed her advice or just go for it. When I was young I acted on impulse. A lot. I made my parents nervous. Now that I'm old, I have this really cool ability to think things through a little more (don't ask my parents, they may not agree - but I assure you I DO have this skill). Too bad I don't always listen to the voice of reason.

WHAM!!! I jerked the chord in a swift motion. Out it came, drawing the entire outlet out of the wall with it. Drywall went flying and low-and-behold my chord was still plugged into the socket. Fail. Oh no, oh no, oh no. I jumped up, ran to the wall and shoved the outlet back into the gaping hole. My head swiveled in all directions as I anticipated a swarm of Colombian maintenance men to attack. 10 seconds passed and then I focused my attention back on the outlet. Luckily I ripped it out of the wall in a relatively clean manner and you could barely tell what had happened. Let's just say that won't be happening again.

Next time I know to heed my mother's advice and take care in unplugging chords from Colombian outlets.

Ramblings of an Insomniac

I'm usually not a quitter (for example, one time I spend 45 minutes trying to make a stupid TV remote function so I could watch a DVD - my sister and Annie can attest to this) but tonight I'm throwing in the towel. I'm done! What am I quitting? Trying to sleep. Here has been my night since laying down to bed at 9:15: roll to one side of the bed...take off the covers...flip to my left side...put the covers back on....flip over to my right side...sprawl on my back....hear a bug by my ear...SMASH, maybe if I swing at my ear hard/fast enough I can kill it...roll back to the other side of the bed...one leg up...roll to my stomach...ah, stupid mosquito at my ear again...SMASH - missed him again...SMASH. Stupid bug...covers over my head to hide...to hot...covers off...bug in ear...SMASH SMASH SMASH...man my head is starting to hurt....

Donzo. It is pointless for me to keep trying to sleep when it's obviously not going to happen.  So here I am, laying in bed writing instead of getting my much needed beauty rest. I'm thinking about my alarm that will go off at 5:20 and realize this might not be the best decision, but come on people what's a girl to do? Tossing and turning all night won't do me any better.

Let's talk about my bed. Maybe this will subconsciously trigger something to make me sleepy. I'll give it a go. So, my bed is a double sized bed.Woo hoo! The biggest bed I've had in my life!  In theory this is great, but I have a slight problem. For my entire existence I've been sleeping on a twin size mattress and it is ingrained in me to take up about a 3 foot chunk of bed. Now that I have a "big bed", I still cling to the side and remain in that area until morning. Some nights I feel rebellious and make myself sprawl across the bed, but it feels unnatural. I always find myself back in my comfort zone on the outskirts of the mattress. What a waste.

Speaking of waste, I realized I've never explained my garbage. Well, I use plastic grocery bags for garbage can liners (I have a plethora of them from the supermarket) and take my trash out about once a day. I know that sounds like a lot, but considering what I throw in the garbage, it's completely understandable (I'll get to that in a few). To take my garbage out, I just tie my bag, walk down the hall of my apartment and drop it down this shoot. Clink, clank, bam,booom! I'm not certain where this leads, but it's really not that important - I just know where I need to throw it. Today, as I left for work I grabbed my garbage and when I opened the little shoot there was a feather clinging to the metal. A legit bird feather. Maybe someone got angry at their bird and threw it down the shoot? Maybe someone's pet died and they disposed it? Maybe a bird spontaneously generated from someone's trash? At least it gave me a springboard for making up some interesting stories on my walk to the bus stop!

Now for the reason I take out my garbage so frequently. It's kind of gross, but it is what it is. Colombia doesn't have incredible city sewage systems or waste water treatments plants like the United States. The pipes are smaller and they just don't have the capacity to deal with extra material in the sewage. Therefore, we cannot flush toilet paper down the toilet - it must go in the trash. Beside every toilet in Colombia you will find a garbage can, and that's where the used paper must go. I'll tell you what, at first it was awfully hard to remember. It takes a while getting used to it, but now I very rarely have "accidents" with the paper. What happens if you throw paper down you may be asking? Well, a few times isn't a big deal but our director told us a story of a gringa friend of hers who always flushed toilet paper. Eventually it clogged up the ENTIRE sewage system of her apartment building. They traced it back to her and she was a wee bit embarrassed...pun intended!

By now sleep feels much closer than beginning so off I go. I'm hoping the little mosquito monster that was driving me crazy early has found the land of sleep as well. It's not likely, but a girl has got to hope. It he's still awake it will be back to the SMASH. Maybe this time I'll get him. Worth it every time.

And yet they still praise...

Jeremiah 1:8 “Do not be afraid of them, for I am with you and will rescue you,” declares the Lord.”

Another Sunday has passed and Debbie and I visited a new church today. It was a Baptist church downtown that she had dropped in on before and wanted to check it out again. I’m always game for new adventures, so we jumped in a taxi and the driver whisked us off. The congregation meets in a school building that the taxi driver was unfamiliar with and we didn’t have the exact address, so we were dropped off in the right vicinity and wandered the streets a little until Debbie recognized the place. It was a lovely morning and the walk was nice.

After a little bit of meandering we found the school where church was held each week. We were greeted at the door, shown to some open seats and then we waited for the service to start. Within 10 minutes the pastor walked on stage. He explained that there had been a tragedy this week and today’s service was to cry out to our God on behalf of a 21 year old girl name Daniela.

During the service the story was pieced together: Monday, September 3, at 7:00 PM Daniela left work and got in a taxi. She was headed to meet a friend in another city but never got there. From the moment she got in the taxi there has been no communication with her.  No one knows if she’s been kidnapped or killed. She has disappeared.

Throughout the service the entire congregation was called to pray; called to cry out to God; called to praise.  Yes – you read that correctly: called to praise. What kind of pastor would ask his congregation to praise a God who permitted such an atrocity? What kind of people would praise a God who allowed a beautiful young lady to be abducted? What kind of people would praise a God as a family grieves a missing child? Let me tell you: the kind of people know their God is in control despite the pain in this life. The kind of people that understand His plan is not dependant on our joy or grief but something greater. The kind of people that understand that our God sacrificed His son for us and therefore His grace is sufficient.

I was brought to tears as I joined in the singing of praise, the laying on of hands and the crying out for Daniela. It felt surreal to be a part of something that “happens on the news”. It hits much closer to the heart when you can watch the mom kneel before God and beg for protection and deliverance of her child.

The focus verse for the entire service was the verse above: Jeremiah 1:8…how do we even comprehend this when hope seems so far away. The pastor said we must look towards the light as we walk through this darkness.  Weeping may remain for the night or while we are here, but we have an assurance that one day we will meet with Daniela in paradise.

And so passed a somber Sunday…with a sober reminder to me of the dangers in the world.