The Sounds of a Colombian Christmas

Imagine this: you’re finally settling into bed after a long day. You close your eyes and your mind begins to wonder as you drift into the land of dreams. You’re not quite sleeping yet, but you’re approaching the threshold between reality and the world in our minds. BAM! All of a sudden a bomb explodes outside of your apartment and you’re violently shocked back into your bedroom.

I’m certain you’ve probably had an experience close to this and as soon as you realize it was a half-dream you can snuggle back into your thoughts.  I’m also fairly certain that you don’t live in Colombia in December.

This exact scenario happened the other night – except the explosion wasn’t a random neuron accidently firing while trying to relax. There really was an explosion. My eyes shot open and I pictured guerilla fighters taking over my city. Within 2 minutes another explosion went off. These were the ensuing thoughts, “I’m going to die. They are throwing bombs. Oh wait, Good thing I’m on the 4^th floor. They won’t get me up here.”

Following those thoughts I managed to slow my breathing, my pulse soon dropped, and I fell back asleep. Clearly I have a difficult time thinking logically when I first wake up. The next morning I decided that upon hearing bombs, one should not shrug it off and go back to sleep. Maybe I should call my portero. Maybe I should at least look outside and see what is happening. Maybe I should make a shelter and hide under my mattress so when they break in to kidnap me I won’t be found? I’m thinking option 1 or 2 would be best.

So the next day at school I had a huge story for everyone: There were a series of explosions outside of my apartment last night!!! Ah!!! My students were not impressed and kindly explained to me: Meese, don’t you know that we begin celebrating Christmas at the beginning of December and everyone lights fireworks all the time.

 Fireworks, they call these things FIREWORKS? No. Fireworks usually have a visually appealing light show that accompanies large blasts. Not these “fireworks”. These are bombs.

I’m starting to get used the sound now. Every night there are about 8-10 of explosions.  I still scream sometimes in shock (like when someone sneaks up and scares you) and the jolting out of sleep is inevitable, but at least I have some reason now: Christmas in Colombia means celebrating with loud noises.

What the Fudge

Monday morning I received an email from the human resource manager at our school. The subject was "OVEN". My heart skipped a beat and I quickly opened it. Here is what it said, "Good morning Leanne, I hope you had a great weekend. The oven technician just called me this morning to go to your apartment, I´m so sorry.  I think is better to contact a particular technician to fix the oven, I will let you know. See you later and have a nice day."

To most of you this means nothing so let me explain. The entire time I've been in Colombia my oven has been broken. It heats up to the right temperature and then turns off. About 2 months ago I pursued a way to get it fixed. Since that time the technician "is going to come" on three different occasions. Each time I was asked to stay in my apartment from 8:00 until 12:00 on a Saturday morning and wait for him to show up. Each time I was sorely disappointed when nothing happened. I don't really mind having to sit at home all morning, what makes me sad is that my oven still doesn't work.  I love love love to bake and my sweet skills are smoldering inside me without an oven to release them.

Last night this smoldering desire erupted and I decided to try my hand at making homemade fudge. Why fudge? Well, it doesn't need an oven! Little did I know the task ahead of me.

It started off pretty well: put sugar, milk and cocoa in a pan and bring to a boil. At this point I had my apron on and I was dancing to Christmas music. Next, the recipe told me when the mixture started to boil to stop stirring, reduce heat and maintain it there until a drop of the mixture in cold water would form a solid ball that I can squish between my fingers. What the heck.  I heated and tested, heated and tested, heated and tested. I began to think I had done something wrong. After 10 failed attempts to "form a ball" I decided I should probably change the muddy-looking water. I changed the water and then voila! when I dripped the liquid into the cold water a ball formed! Score.

Now is when it starts going downhill. I took the pre-fudge off the stove and the next step was to add butter and vanilla and beat with a wooden spoon until it lost its sheen. What does that even mean. Loses its sheen? I decided I'd just stir until it changed appearance. So I stirred and stirred. And stirred some more and kept on going. My left arm eventually became sore. I switched arms and kept going and going. After nearly 15 minutes of stirring it started to solidfy and like magic it became dull looking. Yes! Score. Now where does the downhill part come in?

Well, the next part was dumping the fudge into a pre-greased pan to cool. I got 75% of it into greased pan and decided I needed a spatula to get every last drop of chocolatey goodness from the original pot. My only problem was that I couldn't reach the drawer to get the spatula. So with my left hand stabling the pan on the stove I stretched and stretched to the drawer. Nope. Still couldn't reach. Here we go Leanne, you got this. I slid over more...a little more....a little more....CRASH! I had slid a little too far and my pan of hot fudge toppled to the floor. Of course it landed upside down. I quickly flipped and and decided to salvage as much fudge as possible. My immediate thought was: hands, scoop, pan. Thankfully reason took charge before impulse: million degree sugar mixture = burn. Next reaction, spatula! Yeah yeah yeah! Let's salvage as much as I can. I mean I just swept the floor yesterday? Yeah. No big deal.

 In the midst of my brain going crazy my cat's brain was doing the same. She came charging in and decided to take control of the situation. Her solution? Let's stick my head in this and use my tongue as a scoop. Not to scoop into the pan, but into my stomach. Get. In. My. Belly. Ahh! No. No. No. Cats should not eat chocolate. With my gooey fingers I scooped Amiguita up, threw her in my bedroom and shut the door.  So not only did I dump the fudge pan I also put my cat at risk of death. Great Leanne. Score.

Then I stopped. Looked at the floor, considered my situation, realized Christmas music was still playing in the background and just started giggling. Really. Is this real life? Of course this happened.  Still giggling I manged to clean up the rest of my mess. It's the journey that we're supposed to enjoy right? Not the final destination? Yeah, I'll go for that.

I'm thinking more and more every day that this oven situation needs to be fixed.

Potentially Suspicious Activity on your Credit Card

Well, I did it. I bought a motorcycle today. Charged $2,348.33 on my credit card and walked out the door. Brand new Honda something will be ready to be picked up on Saturday. They lady just has to call me.

Of course, this motorcycle isn't for me - BUT I did buy it. I'm guessing you'd like an explanation?You see, a friend of mine here wanted to buy a motorcycle but he was explaining all the hassle/fees he had to go through in order to transfer money from the United States or charge it on his credit card. Before leaving the United States I made sure I had a credit card with "no foreign transaction fees". Most cards with such awesomeness have an annual fee, but I managed to find some without any strings attached. So, I offered to buy it for him and the his parents in the states would just transfer money to my account. Pretty simple and it avoids all these fees. He hasn't given me the  money yet, so technically the bike is still mine. Woo hoo! Proud owner of a Honda motorcycle.

In order for Steve to get this motorcycle he had to "take a test, go to the driving school, apply for a license, receive the license and then he'd be set". The use of quotations signifies that this is what should happen, but definitely not what did. All he did was pay this guy $150 US to do all the paper work, he signed some forms saying he knew how to drive, and then waited a week for his license. He got the license yesterday and then after school today we went and bought the thing. It took us about 20 minutes and then we were done. Now on Saturday one of the salesmen will call me and I'll call Steve and send him to go pick it up. It was easier than we had imagined and definitely happened more quickly than in the United States. For the first time since I've been here Colombia has proven to be more efficient at something! Score!

Oh yeah, one more thing, when I got home from charging the motorcycle on my credit card I had received a email notice from Capitalone, "We recently noticed potentially suspicious activity on your credit card." Ha! They didn't like a purchase in Colombia for over $2000. Made me smile.

Crazy Cat Lady

 I look back at my first week in Colombia and I smile at all of the things that used to scare me. The one that most quickly pops into my mind is the horror of the Machete Man on my street. Ha! I find it even more comical now because I now know that there are in fact 2 Machete Men and they are incredibly smiley. Before today I was fairly certain that they recognized me. Today I was given assurance that the younger of the 2 not only knows me, but also knows my kitten, Amiguita, as well (or at least that I carry her around sometimes?)

Since I've become a proud mother of a little one, I have taken her several times in her carrier down my street. A few times have been with a destination of the vet and others have been to attend "play dates" at the apartment of the other proud mother of Amiguita's sister. Yes, I know, cats don't need play dates but it makes me feel better about leaving her in my apartment all alone throughout the week while I'm at school.

Anyway, today I got back from a week long "work trip" to another city. While I was gone Amiguita stayed with Emily (the mom of Amiguita's sister). Upon returning to Periera I decided I should probably go collect my cat and her belongings and bring her home. I left my apartment and headed up the street  right towards Machete Man. As I approached him I said the standard "Buenas, como esta?" (good evening, how are you?).

"Muy bien gracias, donde esta el gato?" (I'm well, thank you. Where is your cat?)

Ha! That completely caught me off guard and I responded, "Hace mucho tiempo" (It's been a while) because I didn't understand him and quickly walked right on by.

It didn't click to me what he said until 3 more paces and I'd already responded with some nonsense. At least I didn't tell him what time it was.  I chuckled to myself - this man associates me with my cat. Really? Ha!

Little did he know, I was actually going to pick her up. So off I continued to Emily's, picked up my kitten, stopped and got ice cream, and then headed home. I was thankful that Machete Man was still patrolling our street because as I walked by I held up my cat carrier for him to see my little girl.

"Ah, el gato, ya tiene" (Ahhh, the cat, now you have it)

I just shot him a huge grin, confirmed his statement with "si", and kept on walking. It makes me smile; I'm officially known by the Machete Man as the Crazy Cat Lady...wait, should this make me grieve ? Ha! Who would have thought Colombia would have this effect on me.

Colombian Convenience

Monday night I got a call from the director of my school, “Hi Leanne, this is Dianne. I’ve got a big problem.”

Those are words that no one wants to hear. The highest-up in the school specifically calling you on a day off to tell you something is wrong. My thoughts started racing, “What could I have done?”

She proceeded, “You know that this week the soccer team and girls and boys volleyball teams are travelling to Medellin to participate in the binational games.” ….side note: Medellin is a city 5 hours from Pereira and the binational games is a huge tournament that happens every year between 12 bi-lingual schools throughout Colombia. Every year the games change location and this year they happen to be in Medllin….”Well they are leaving tomorrow morning and I was supposed to go with them as a female chaperone, but I’m really sick and don’t want to risk going. Can you go in my place? It would be from tomorrow (Tuesday)  until Sunday”

Can I go in her place? I paused for a moment…heck yes! I’d be missing the entire week of school, the only other chaperones are males and don’t speak English, I don’t know a lot of the kids, but yes – I knew it would be an invaluable experience.

Tuesday morning came and I went to school with my bags packed.  We were scheduled to leave at 8:30. The school had rented a giant bus so that all 40 of us could pack in a ride together. By the time we were all on board and ready to go it was 9:00. I was impressed that we were able to leave that early! The plan was to arrive at our hotel in Medellin by 3:00 in the afternoon and relax for the rest of the evening. 1:00 hit and by that time we were all ready to get off the bus. Suddenly we hit a traffic jam.

So it wasn’t a normal traffic jam. The road to Medellin is a normal road but it snakes up and up and up an up the mountains and then it snakes down and down and down and down until we arrive in the city.  On the way up we were stopped because a huge truck had lost its breaks on the way down the other side, collided with some cars and cause a huge wreck. Then, on top of that, some cars tried to pass the wreck and crashed head on with another car. In total 6 cars were completely smashed and 2 people had died. It was really a tragic situation. Well, that meant our bus was stuck in a huge line of traffic waiting for the wreckage to be cleared. 1:00. 2:00. 3:00. 4:00. 5:00. 6:00. Until finally at 7:00 we were able to continue. This wasn’t because the traffic jam had cleared, but rather by “Colombian convenience”. It turns out that one of the volleyball player’s girlfriend’s dad just happened to be the chief of police of Medellin and to help us, decided to send a police escort so we could move to the front of an over 3 mile long traffic jam so that when the road was clear we could go through. Seriously it was so strange. The police just came, turned on their lights and lead us through the mountains.

The volleyball coach looked at me and simply said one thing, “Welcome to Colombia.”

Skyfall

Yesterday I had my first movie theater experience in Colombia. I've been living here for over 3 months now and yet I still have to remind myself that I'm in Colombia so things are going to be different. This situation followed that pattern.

I met up with a few of my teacher pals at the movie theater. This place is located inside of a new mall so it is pretty high quality. I road the escalator up and there I found Steve. The movie was to start in 5 minutes so I suggested getting the tickets while we waited for Emily and Laura to show up. It was then explained to me that it wouldn't be the best idea because when you buy your tickets you have to chose your seat. The lady at the ticket counter spins around her computer screen and lets you pick where you want to sit in the same way you do when you're buying baseball tickets online in the states. As a consequence, we had to wait for the girls. Eventually Emily floated up the escalator and we decided to get our tickets. Perhaps Laura had bailed on us. 3 tickets for Skyfall, the newest James Bond action flick. Luckily for us it was in English with Spanish subtitles. I don't think I could have managed if it was dubbed in Spanish - that's never a good idea.

After getting our $9500 peso tickets we headed to concessions. As in the states, the prices are jacked up, but it was worth it to buy popcorn! The reason it was "vale la pena" (side note: I've decided to teach you Spanish, context clues should help you figure that one out) was because I could either have salt popcorn or caramel popcorn. Woo hoo! Caramel popcorn was super yummy. Lunch and dinner, here we go!

Following the snack line we went into theater 6. As we walked up the aisle I was a little concerned because I forgot which seat number I had. Well, turns out it doesn't matter. People just sit wherever they want. I should have guessed. We settled 3 rows from the front. Steve on my left and Emily on my right. After about 5 minutes of watching previews Steve looks and me and asks to move back a row.

 "Really? You want to move back one row? "

"Sure, we'd get a much better view.".

Emily and I exchanged the "Oh Steve" look, shrugged our shoulders and moved back one row. Vale la pena? Not so certain. Well, we were set. Emily on my left and Steve on my right. Before long we saw the door open and in came Laura. Woo hooo! She made it and she didn't even miss the previews.

Not 2 minutes after Laura sat down the fire alarm began going off. Seriously Colombia? You're going to ruin my first cinema experience. Beeep. Beeep. Beeep. I look at Emily, "Are you kidding me?" Beep. Beeeep. Beeep. I glance around the room and not one Colombian is moving. Beeeep. Beeeep. Beeeep. Steve turns to me, "I'm not leaving until I smell smoke" Beeep. Beeeep. Beeep. Hm, no one is moving maybe this is common. The exit was only a few feet away. Beeeep. Beeep. Beeep. By now a minute had passed, the previews were still going, and still no one was moving. Beeeep. Beeeeeep. Beeeeeep. Finally the group of Colombians sitting behind us decided to get up and leave. That was our cue. Right as we decided to leave as well, the alarm stopped. Oh, just joking... Intersting.

The rest of the movie going experience was identical to that in the states. So much so, that for 2.5 hours I had completely forgotten that I was in Colombia. For all I realized I could have been back in Michigan chilling at the movies with some friends. Yeah, it was great!

Skirts are off limits for a while...

Let's talk about most embarrassing moments for a few lines.

When doing ice-breakers in a group setting I feel like this topic is always brought up. I've had a problem in the past coming up with something good.  My default has always been a time when I was 9 years old in an eye doctor's office. Both my legs fell asleep and I ended up on the floor. Traumatizing for a young kid, but I think that story has run it's course. Just in time too as this week I've upgraded to a much better most embarrassing story.  Woo hoo! Kind of neat that it just happens to have happened in Colombia too!

So, I wore a skirt to school on Wednesday. I've been trying super hard to wear this skirt for a few weeks now.  I actually told the guys at my bus stop that I  needed some fashion advice on what kind of top to wear with a stretchy knee-length black skirt. They were by no means helpful, but I managed to pull something cute together (or at least I thought it was cute, more on that later).

All was well until I decided I had to go to the bathroom before lunch. I quick went to the bathroom, then walked by the giant group of boys playing ping-pong, up the stairs, past the staff room (waving to a male teaching chilling in there), made it to the end of the hall, and THAT is when it happened: one of my 10th grade girls and the high school psychologist came sprinting up to me and grabbed at my back. My cheeks got real hot real fast when I realized my skirt had been tucked into the back of my orange panties the entire time. I don't know how I managed to make it so far without ANYONE else saying something. Yeah....take that in for a moment. Fail. Ha!

Well, at least at the end of the day the secretary, psychologist and a few other female teachers laughed about it...really hard...for a really long time!  Staff bonding? Worth it every time? I think it will be a while before I wear a skirt/dress again!

...Oh yeah, to add insult to injury: at the end of the day one of my 9th graders came up to me, did a quick full body scan with his eyes, and told me I looked like an old lady. Score! 23-year-old going on 50.