Medellin Weekend

Valentine's weekend, Katie, Rachel and I headed to Medellin for a couple of days.  Rachel is a huge fanatic of salsa dancing, so that was the main reason for being there.

We flew in Friday night, checked into our hostel and prepared ourselves for the night's activities.  Thankfully, Rachel is amazing at doing hair, so there was no reason to bring all the girly appliances with me.

After dinner, we headed to Free Dance, a salsa (of course) club near our hostel.  Katie and I knew we were out of place right away: everyone there was a pro.  We both got in one dance before the guys figured out our skills and went on their hunt to find decent dancers.  

Deciding not to feel awkward any longer, we left Rachel there and and instead grabbed a couple drinks at a bar in Parque Lleras.  It was the perfect way to unwind on a Friday night.

The next morning, we met up with Brian (a friend who used to work at COJOWA) for coffee before continuing on to the Botanical Gardens.  It was a pleasant way to spend a couple hours being outside. 

That night, we again stopped by Free Dance.  This time, though, they had an hour group lesson before opening the club.  It was a lot of fun, and we were able to dance with several different partners, all beginners or intermediates.  I haven't spun around that much in a long time.  As the night wore on, the pros started to arrive and our dance partners left one by one.  This time, though, Katie and I had been dancing almost non-stop for a couple of hours, so we were okay with calling it a night. 

The next morning I woke up early (not by choice) to run on the closed streets, something Medellin does every Sunday to encourage physical activity.  The air was crisp, and the hills gave my lungs something to work for.  As much as I am not a big-city lover, Medellin does a good job of having open spaces and parks to get away from the traffic and noise.  

All in all, it was a fun way to spend a quick weekend.

Middle School Soccer Matches

For two weeks, the middle school boys battled to prove who is the best at soccer.  There were two teams each for sixth, seventh and eighth grade.  The games took place in the coliseum during lunch, and since I know all but a few of the boys, I went every day to cheer them on.

During most games, I was joined by these three sixth-grade girls: Juli F., Ale and Juli R.  They were able to give me the ins and outs of soccer while at the same time providing many minute details of their lives.  It was great fun.

As everyone probably knows, soccer is huge here, and passions tend to run rather high.  This was no exception for the middle schoolers.  Holy cow: these kids are intense, and at times, I thought a fight was going to break out, making the whole experience that much more exciting.  I see these guys every day in class, so it was a real treat to view different sides to their personalities.

Many times, the games started without a P.E. teacher there to referee, but the boys kept themselves honest and played anyway.  It amazes me there were no broken bones because the hits and falls they took on the hard floor looked and sounded like they hurt...bad...real bad.  There were amazing goals and just as amazing blocks from the goalies.  Plus, most of the teams were reasonably good at passing and allowed everyone to be a part of the team.

The seventh-grade boys were at every game crowding the sidelines and heckling the teams.

Although I am not supposed to have favorites, I was rooting for my 7A class to win.  Their games were the most intense, and they put their hearts and souls into winning.  It was 7A and an eighth grade team that made it into the finals.  The game was neck and neck with a score of one-to-one.  Unfortunately, eighth grade scored three penalty kicks, while seventh scored two.  Luckily, almost all the seventh graders were there to support them.

My only hope now is to be invited to some of the professional games when these boys make it into the big leagues.

A Shout Out to the Costeños

Many times while discussing Cartagena with other Colombians and expats, people comment about the Costeños and their lack of friendliness or willingness to help out, saying that Colombians in other parts of the country are much more welcoming.  While I do not deny there are differences between the various regions of Colombia, I beg to differ on the Costeños' discourteous behavior.

While on the bus just now, we were passing my neighborhood (Marbella).  A man sitting across from me brought it to my attention, probably assuming I was a tourist and not knowing the area.  He must have heard me ask the bus attendant before getting on (fifteen minutes beforehand) if the bus stopped here.

Obviously, this is a small example of kindness, but this kind of thing happens every single day, sometimes multiple times.  It could be anything: an extra effort to shake my hand during mass, a friendly hello, giving up a seat for me on the bus (even making room when I have my travel backpack on), providing directions, being patient with my Spanish abilities, or just making conversation.  There is always someone around to lend a hand or provide a smile.

Are there still impolite people around?  Sure.  But that occurs everywhere, and just like everywhere else, the good people far outweigh the bad.  So, thank you, my dear Costeños, because you are what make the difference every single time I step off a plane and land here in Cartagena again:  I am home.

Paddle Boarding

The last couple of Sundays, I have joined a few friends to go paddle boarding at eight in the morning.  The water is fairly calm, and the city is still waking up.  

Paddle boarding involves standing on a surf board and using one's oar to propel yourself through the water.  There's not much skill involved (at least with the relaxing way we were rowing), but you do have to keep your balance on the board.  The first week, this wasn't an issue because the waves were pretty much nonexistent.  Last week, though, the sea was rougher, and we had more motivation to stay on the board.  Not only was the ocean filthy from the oil rigs and who knows what else, but there were jellyfish (the first ones I've seen in Colombia) popping up everywhere.  

Just paddling parallel to the shore is fine, but the next time I go, I want to reach Tierra Bomba, an island about a mile away from Castillo Grande (the neighborhood we start off in).  It would be more of a challenge and give me something to aim for.

Phone Calls

Last night, I tried purchasing my tickets to Medellin for next weekend.  Unfortunately, paying with an American credit card has its issues.  When I called the hotline and chose English, the man verified my confirmation code by using words for the letters: T as in Tango, W as in Whiskey.  For some reason, the whiskey gave me a chuckle.  Would that even be allowed in the States?

Alas, the charge in dollars would have been over three hundred DOLLARS more for the flight, so the man told me to try a Spanish representative.  Can I just say how patient these Colombians are?  The word for W?  Whiskey.  Over thirty minutes later, the deal was the same, so this morning, I left my house at six and took a bus to the airport.  It was lovely to be outside even earlier than normal, and I only had to wait five minutes in line to be helped.  With my tickets paid for, I aided a Brit behind me (she knew no Spanish) with her dilemma and just missed the teacher's bus.  Luck was on my side: as soon as I stepped out onto the main road, a student bus picked me up, and away I went.  Mission accomplished.