hackneyed liver

Today I learned two new words. The first was an important word, in my world, one that, had I known it before, would have salvaged my lunch. That word is "liver" (higado...) I keep ordering food, or more precisely, agreeing to order food that other people offer, without knowing exactly what it is I'm asking for. Time to buckle down on the vocabulary building. The second word was trillado, or hackneyed. I'm dying to throw this into casual conversation.

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The news from Colombia was not good on this Tuesday. The country is still first in cocaine exportation, and yesterday in Huila, in the southern part of Colombia (far, far away from Bogota, Mom...) nine city council members were assasinated yesterday during a meeting, supposedly by members of the FARC dressed like the Colombian military. Can't help but think the two news items are related somehow. There are only two weeks left before the parlimentary elections here, and since security is the first thing many people associate with the current president (sound familiar to anyone?), most observers think the armed groups are trying to change people's association from Uribe=security to Uribe=violence.

Clase de Transporte Publico: Medellin, Feb 06

Medellin, land of the paisas, was much more rewarding than I'd expected. The grand architecture, the people with that accent that makes them sound like wide-eyed kids, the mountains that surround it all, and the clean and efficient metro system were all a wonderful surprise.

This is part of the group we traveled in - three undergrads who were awfully nice but whose names I've forgotten, Rosana, me, Mac, Adriana, and Paula - in the rail maintenance yard of the Medellin Metro.

When we first arrived on the scene at the Metro headquarters, we interrupted the reading of the master plan for the system. We listened as a female lawyer gave her retirement ("jubilacion") speech, then tried very very hard not to laugh out loud as the entire roster of employees sang...The Metro Hymn. Yes, Virginia, there is a metro hymn. I'll post the lyrics as soon as I find them. Tried to buy the cd but apparently it's not out quite yet. There was also a lot of talk about the "metro culture". More on that later...it sounded suspect, but as it turns out by the cleanliness and respect for the system, there seems to be something to it.

After several technical visits Friday and Saturday, we got to relax and site see a bit Saturday afternoon. I particularly liked this statue, just outside of Pueblito Paisa, and overlooking "Medallo," as it is affectionately known.

View from the lookout at Pueblito Paisa

The group photo, from left to right, is Nicolas, Rosana (studied engineering in Medellin, very sweet girl), Adriana (the class TA - smart, kind, and enthusiastic), "Mac" - a Fulbright student also from Atlanta, also studying public transportation with Arturo, and Arturo, the "profe." There were about 25 of us total, and we had a blast.

Pueblito Paisa

This is a reproduction of a typical town in this part of Colombia (department of Antioquia). It's kind of touristy (ok, very) but most of the tourists are from other parts of Colombia.

A chance meeting

I got tired of waiting for my classmates at the gate and had just decided to go find some food, when...the orange triangle lunged towards me, but in a dignified way. It was Antanus Mockus, former mayor of Bogota, current presidential hopeful (but not so very hopeful...), philosopher, teacher and clown-lover. Maybe it was the enormous orange triangle hat on his head, but for whatever reason, instead of being petrified the way I was when I met Enrique Penalosa (the other former mayor I'm here to study), I was strangely calm. I introduced myself...oh wait! I forgot to introduce myself! Shoot, there were so many people rushing him away and another woman asking me to take a photo, etc etc etc...I forgot to introduce myself. But I did tell him about my project, say I was looking into civic culture and participation, and tell him I´d been at the Plaza de Bolivar a few weeks back (see orange triangle post). Then his bodyguard took our photo, he asked me to email him with any requests, and he was off. Meeting politicians can be a schizophrenic experience. Generally speaking, if you are a) not a VIP, b) they don`t need anything from you, and c) their time is limited, as it usually is, they tend to not talk to people in airports. This was not the case with Mockus, whatever else people might say about him. He had a warm and calming presence, and I could tell everyone else who interacted with him in that brief segment of time felt it. He won't most likely be the next president of Colombia, so I can't say I've met that figure. But he will continue to contribute to the dialogue on how we live, in cities and countries facing enormous, seemingly insurmountable dilemnas like poverty, sprawl, and environmental degradation, well into the future. Now that is hopeful.

ignore people

to read more about Mockus when he was mayor: Harvard Gazette

Mayor Garzon's first 100 days in office - the movie

So I was scrolling casually down a list of search results today when I came across an article about the current mayor of Bogota, Eduardo Galeano Garzon. Interesting guy.

As someone who has been known to worry too much about what others think of me, I found what he had to say about paying attention to critiques of his administration in the media inspirational:

"I acknowledge that some criticisms are important; some are excessive, there are individuals who express their views with hatred, but I have also listened to columnists who have made wise evaluations. One must listen to people, I do not fear criticism. I have even had differences with my own party, but when some people try to run over me with a Transmilenio, that I cannot accept. These are times where you turn one cheek but I am not going to wait for anyone to slap me on the other cheek. I too, am a thoroughbred bull."

I want to see this movie. The mayor is a thoroughbred bull who will not, I repeat, will not be run over with a big red bus. Take that, voice inside my head that keeps saying Bogota is just a big city like any other!

Crepes, good people, and Medellin

Tomorrow we’re off to Medellin, my fellow transportation geeks and I. Actually this class is much less geeky than it could be and still be acceptable to me – haven’t found quite the equivalent of the transit crowd here in Bogotá yet. They’re probably all off studying buses at MIT (like the professor did, and everyone’s terribly impressed with him here).

Tonight we went to an amazing place for dinner – the only light filtered in through a large window above the bar and the candles on every table. There was a man playing the guitar and a roaring fireplace in every room. Bogotá loves its crepes – this was yet another crepes café, but with such a comforting, rustic feel to it. Good food, too.

I’m so glad to have met the people I know here – tonight I met Elizabeth and Porter after their Spanish class and we walked across the bucolic campus with the sunset's reflection glimmering on the mountains ahead of us. Tom and Porter are wonderful both as a couple and individually, and it’s not every day you meet people like that. The other "Fulbright couple," Abigail and Chris, is great too – we spend most of our social time alternating between the two pairs. The restaurant tonight a bit more romantic than I needed, and made me miss things, but the bizarre guitar medley kind of made up for it. The mood shifted as the guitar played drifted from Stairway to Heaven to the Pink Panther theme to a cell phone jingle…then back to more Gypsy Kings, with some Led Zepplin thrown in for good measure.

Tomorrow night it’s off to Medellin (not sure why I keep putting it that way, unless it's because I’m a bit nervous about the trip, partly because I’m traveling with my classmates I don't yet know very well, although the girl who studied in Medellin is awfully nice, as is the rest of the class, really.) Our schedule includes lots of site visits to Medellin’s metro system, so it should be a good way to get to know the city. I’m told it’s much smaller than here (but then, most places are…) – the equivalent of one of Bogotá’s elbows is how it was put to me.

I’m not sure if I’m signed up to stay through Sunday or if I’m flying back here Saturday night. If I get back in time, the frog professor is having a housewarming party in a part of town called La Macarena. Seems like the kind of place Mom would enjoy (heeey, Macarena...) Fittingly, it’s the neighborhood with all the dance classes.

(from http://www.nacla.org)

Well, I’m tired from a full day of…well, looking things up on the Internet and eating…it’s a rough life. So I'm going to catch some sleep. Thanks to some very special assistance with Lexis, I did find what I was looking for, and feel like I’m making some progress on that article Elizabeth and I are hoping to write about the history of the strike at the National University of Colombia. By the end of next week we hope to have a proposal for NACLA (the North American Congress on Latin America). See you Sunday if not sooner!

Bogota calling

I’m so glad I decided to live here. Being sick made me realize how wonderful it is not to live alone, much as I like my space. Elizabeth has been awfully sweet, picking up soymilk and a movie for me yesterday, and just generally being a concerned friend. The neighborhood is great, too – I have rarely if ever felt unsafe, even late at night, because at almost any hour of the day or night one passes little old ladies walking their poodles dressed in fluffy sweaters. How’s that for an image of Bogotá???

In Bogotá there are six “strata” or classifications of neighborhoods: six is the ritziest, and 0 is the poorest of the poor. Most of Bogotá appears to me to be around Strato 3, which is middle class like the area where we live, but many of the Americans and international people we know live in Strato 6 neighborhoods. The party we went to Friday night was in one, and although we all agreed that we adored Silje’s apartment (owned by the Norwegian consulate, apparently), especially the gorgeous 16^th century whitewashed mission across the street, I’d much rather live in a neighborhood with some street life. This place is exactly what Jane Jacobs was talking about with the concept of eyes on the street. But even if I didn’t feel safer, I’d still prefer the social interaction, however slight, of a place like this, where every third door is a storefront, to a more sterile but technically beautiful upscale neighborhood. Here the Laundromat owner, the butcher, and the Internet café attendant all know and ask after their customers. Now that’s neighborhood life.

Today, however, I did have a slightly off-putting experience. I took a short walk to the park to get some air, then went over to the bakery and fruit store to pick up a few things for dinner. On my way home (all three blocks of it…) a man stopped upon passing me, pointed, and said “Europa sea, Europa sea, que se puede hacer...” I’m not sure exactly how to translate this, but I understood him to be saying, if you’re European, I guess you just are and there’s not much you can do about it. [!] He was fairly ordinary looking, and I wouldn’t have noticed him if not for this strange encounter. Maybe I should dye my hair…the thing is, I don’t generally stand out that much here, other than being able to see over heads in a crowd. There are plenty of people with my hair color and complexion – it’s not absolute most common look here – but still not that uncommon either. Ah well, I went to the butcher next, and he could be an uncle of mine with his grey hair and freckles. He asked after my cold and I felt better.

The Strato 0 and 1 neighborhoods are mostly on the south side of the city, with names like Ciudad Bolivar (for Simon Bolivar, would-be uniter of pan-America Latina). One aspect of my project will be to determine how successful a government that talks big about public participation has been at involving the citizenry of the informal developments in their administration. Bogotá has been experimenting with decentralized local government since the year 2000, when a number of smaller mayorships were formed, all to be appointed by the primary mayor of the city. The localities were made responsible for planning the use of a local development fund, supposedly with public input a priority. From what I’ve heard so far, though, there’s been more window dressing than actual involvement. I’m not sure yet how much of that is a simple economic statement (ie, people have to work much longer hours to support their families and therefore have no time for public meetings) how much the result of people being terrorized by the experiences that drove them to resettle on the outskirts of the capital city, and how much is the state’s responsibility.

with apologies to Evan Dando//Hard Drive...this is the germ I'm helping now...

This is the color of my nose today....
This is how often I'm sneezing now.... (every thirty seconds)
This is the bed I'm sleeping in...
This is the church that's keeping me awake...
This is the nasty cold all the Americans have been passing around....
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I'm sick. No kayaking, jogging, or going to mass for me today. Stay warm and stay well!

life in Bogota

Ellie and I at home before leaving for the Viking party. Guess that requires some explanation - one of Julia's friends who I met in Norway put me in touch with her good friend who has been working in Colombia. Silje is heading back to Norway this week, thus the Viking theme...in actuality we drank mojitos, since she and her boyfriend had just returned from a week in Havana, and danced salsa. Elizabeth and I decided to take a photo before heading out. I love the idea of having a hammock in the living room - another thing I plan to import when I come home.

 

street scenes

more photos from a bus and of the church near my university

photos from the bus

 

Universidad de La Nacional

There's a strike going on at the national university , and the campus is full of graffiti with social and political overtones.
This one is a pun: Fayad is the last name of the university's rector, and the word "fallas" in Spanish means failures. So the artist wants a university free of both Fayad and failings.








Lots of UN students have been protesting Colombia's involvement in CAFTA discussions. TLC stands for Trato Libre Comercial (Free Commercial Trade).














The National University is known for its campus cows. Pretty soon, though, the real thing will be gone and this wire reproduction will be all that's left of the agricultural stage of the campus's history. Nothing like walking across campus with your head in the clouds and one eye on the ground for mudpies. Personally I'll miss them (the bovines, not the mud pies...)

















I love the architect who designed this library,
Rogelio Salmona. He also designed the Virgilio Barco library, one of my favorite places in Bogota.

transit nerd hour

Yesterday I learned, for the 27 thousandth time, that there is a split among transit planners between those who are a) pro-metro and tolerate the bus, and b) pro-bus and do not tolerate metros. This is following invariably by a discussion of all things bus rapid transit can accomplish that metro and light rail systems cannot. I’ve heard this so many times, along with that rant about how much better off the city of Bogotá is with TransMilenio, that I’m starting to get suspicious. Anytime someone has to invest this much effort convincing me of something supposedly so obvious, I start to wonder.

Not that I’m saying anything negative about TransMilenio (I think Arturo would kick me out of class for that – I think he’s a founding member of Friends of TM…), although it’s not as low polluting as it could/should be. I think it’s a good system though, especially for the money, and I can’t wait til it expands down two of the main drags, la Septima (7th Ave, connects the city center with the middle-class middle and the ritzy north end) and Highway 26th (the main street closest to me, cutting the city east/west). La Septima is the next phase, then 26th will get TransMilenio.

TransMilenio’s main red buses and supplementary green ones are all diesel, and so could potentially be converted to some kind of biodiesel down the road. They could also be converted to natural gas, but I’m told by the local guru Dario Hidalgo that this would only be financially feasible if Colombia eliminated the national gasoline subsidy. This does not appear likely in the near future, since it means jobs and money. TM runs full or near full most of the day, and at peak hours runs ridiculously full!

The density here in Bogotá is much, much higher than most places in the states, so I question whether this model could be replicated in different circumstances. Labor costs are also a big factor in the equation – wages being much lower here means TM can afford multiple station attendants, guards, and bus drivers, whereas metro systems save money on hiring employees because each train requires only one operator.

For point of comparison, Bogotá’s private buses (collectivos or busetas) move 7 million people daily. TM moves almost 800,000 people a day, which is tremendous, but the demand is much greater than it can handle. I think if they had built a metro system here along the same length of city space it would be moving a million trips a day, easy, given that 72% of Bogotá’s 7 plus million people (probably closer to 8-10 million) do not own cars. Can you imagine! But that’s just my uninformed opinion, and the great thing about TM for the city of Bogotá is that it was inexpensive. They built it on the cheap, and it shows in some of the stations, but in a city where the poverty rate is 50%, I think the decision was justified. The current mayor is focusing on anti-poverty initiatives, and he has been able to do so partly because TM is not proving to be a huge drain on city coffers.

And for my Atlanta transit geeks (actually all of this was for you!) headways range from 2 minutes peak to 6 minutes off peak. Not bad!

funny sayings...

I’m going to start collecting the unintentionally biting things people say to the perpetually sunburnt American girl…

· At a bakery: “This one doesn’t understand Spanish…” spoken casually, without bothering to whisper, I mean why would she? I don’t understand Spanish! Not bread Spanish, at any rate. I swear every single panaderia has a different word for the yummy round cheese bread. My reply: “well, I understood that…”

· “At least you show enthusiasm!” – this was my architecture professor. So there’s another pretension tossed to the roadside – that I am not bad at drawing. As it turns out, I am. He’s such a nice guy though, the prof, and I know he didn’t mean anything by it…I’ll just have to try harder to make those square thingies look more like buildings.

· “How old are you, anyway?” This one I’ve heard about 27 times a week since I got here. I’m trying to take it that I look younger than I am, but sometimes it gets hard (especially since that night in Decatur when everyone, everyone, agreed that Meg, though she is actually older, looks younger than I do. Thanks guys.) I usually get this after mentioning an ex-husband here, six years “working” for the government there, and that house with the dogs just puts a knife in it and says I’m done.

a serious assessment

Today I filled out a Fulbright survey. One of the questions asked what was the most interesting thing was that we´d learned so far...well, for one thing, I like fried meat. And if it´s wrapped in fried bread, even better! I didn´t think the Fulbright people would all that impressed to know this, so I left it off. Also that I hate dirty air enough to be worth of my Sierra Club membership. I´m not sure if I´m getting a cold or a black lung. Well, I did want a unique souvenir.

If it's in the New York Times, it must be true, right?

Although I hate being called not brave, this is a decent article about the sunnier side of Bogota:

Bogotá Is Not Just for the Brave Anymore

Ignore the the part about not riding public transportation, which is just ridiculous!

good thing all those soldiers are guarding us from...us

Let’s count them: four on this bench, six standing under that tree, two more chatting with the neighborhood private security guard, and one laughing on his cell phone, probably with a girlfriend…that’s 9 members of Colombia’s armed forces, in full body gear, with their shields leaned up against a group of trees over there. Not to mention the 16 standing mostly in a row just beyond the pedestrian bridge crossing 26^th Avenue to the National University. All day long, not doing much in particular.

When I get back from class, they’re taking up most of the benches around the basketball court, being used today as most days for a soccer game, cheering occasionally, looking relaxed and so young. I want to ask what they are doing, but it seems ill advised. The strike at La Nacional has been going on for months now, and the police still come out regularly to sit around and wait for something to happen. So far little has.

I’m interested in learning more about the reasons behind the paro, which I’ve been told has less to do with the leftist graffiti and painting of Che on the main plaza and more with the administration’s desire to make the academic structure at La Nacional more “American,” more private, and less rigorous. Right now most tracks are 5 years long and prepare graduates to begin work immediately, without need to continue on for a masters’ degree.

The administration apparently wants to decrease the length of time each major takes, require professors to have a PhD (many current professors have only their masters’), and weaken the entrance requirements. Right now applicants have to take a test specific to La Nacional, and a relatively low percentage of students who take the test are admitted. From what I’m told, in all of Latin America only the Universidad Nacional de Mexico (UNAM) has more stringent admission requirements.

I’m looking forward to taking classes at UNAL when the next semester begins, in March. Los Andes is turning out to be a little too much like the school I attended summer of 1997 in Ecuador – the kind of place the president sends his kids. As a matter of fact, the Colombian president’s youngest son, a student at Los Andes, is being cited for academic dishonesty…jeez. Can’t wait for March (for so many good reasons)!

a week's worth

I left out most of what happened this week, so here’s a quick run-down:

• Sunday night (seems so long ago…) I went to see the Vagina Monologues with three other Fulbright girls. The slang in Spanish was hard to follow in places, but the performance of the three actresses who interpreted the monologues was incredible. It was the show’s last night at the national theater, after a long and successful run. Joy, a dancer, was so inspired by the director/oldest actress, who performed beautifully, that after the final curtain she slipped backstage to talk with her. I tried to follow but got caught immediately (those Buckmaster genes, right Jeremy?) and kicked out. When Joy finally came outside, she was practically skipping with excitement – she’d gotten her phone number and the promise of a lunch date. Fannie, I’m not sure of her last name, is an important figure on Bogotá’s theater scene, so it was quite a coup for Joy.

• After the show, we all wanted to prolong the feeling of female solidarity, I think. We decided to take TransMilenio to the only place we knew would be open on a Sunday night, where we ate nachos and drank beer and aguas de horchata till just before the last bus left. I ended up catching a taxi from the stop nearest to my house, since it was after 10 pm by that time, and although the city yawns but barely sleeps during the week, Sundays are for family time, and the streets were more deserted than usual.

• Monday was spent trying to convince someone to bring us the Internet. This is not turning out to be as straightforward as I thought it would be. We can’t seem to get the web in the apartment because we are not a business…so I’m thinking of opening what would be the 14^th Internet café on this street. People from the main phone/cable internet company were supposed to come this morning, but instead we got a phone call informing us that we were a home, not a business, and therefore they would not be installing the internet for us. So we’re back to square one.

• Thursday I went with Joy to one of her dance classes, or tried to. The Afro-Colombian dance studio was closed (she said it’s always hit or miss whether she will have class there), but by happy coincidence we ran into some friends of hers on their way to an Afro-Cuban dance lesson. So much fun! I was terrible, naturally, having never tried this kind of dance before, but the instructor and atmosphere were so laid-back and nonjudgmental that I felt completely comfortable flapping around, wiggling, giggling, jumping and machete-ing (I know that’s not a word, but that’s what the movement was called – it represents people chopping cane with machetes, and I don’t know what else to call it). I don’t think I need two activities in my life here that I’m both bad at and are physically exhausting, so…anyone need a pair of cleats, size 8.5?

• Friday was a nerve-wracking day for whatever reason, and Elizabeth helped distract me with her dinner party plans. We went grocery shopping, something we’re getting better at now that our Colombian roommate and friends have stopped “accompanying” us to tell us what to buy. That well-intentioned kindness, added a level of stress we decided is not necessary to the grocery-buying experience. Later in the afternoon I tried to play basketball but ended up just dribbling on the sidelines as the court was being used for a pretty exciting soccer game. It was good practice for my basketball game today, though – I haven’t done any ball-handling drills for a long, long time. Today Tom and Chris, although they may not know it yet, are going to experience the power of women’s basketball. Joy and I are taking them on. Hopefully I won’t sit down to write tomorrow with any major injuries…I tend to be a little on the over-competitive side with these things, especially when I feel the need to show skills for gender equality!

• I called home to wish Jer a happy birthday - happy quarter century, my brother, you’re off to a great start. And as the smartest one of us kids, you’ve got a lot to live up to. I’ve never heard of our family working so hard – Julia’s putting in 60 hour weeks, Mom’s putting in 10 hour days, Dad is crazy with work as usual, Jeremy’s schedule has him working and/or on campus seven days a week, and William seems to be taking school more seriously this semester (good for you, kiddo!) Georgia State should start giving up a group discount. Julia, maybe if you head over to the public health or policy school, they will! Then Dad could finally finish his masters’ degree and start teaching – what he’s really called to do, in my opinion. I at least couldn’t have asked for a better teacher for everything that counts. Mom and Dad both really did right by us kids, even when we made it harder than it had to be, and this distance makes me appreciate them even more.

• I miss those interminable family dinners on Sundays a lot here …but this place is getting more and more comfortable to me. It’s a lot more like moving to New York (what people generally thought I meant when I said, “I’m moving to Colombia.”) than I expected it to be. Like moving to NY and never leaving Spanish Harlem. Cosmopolitan, busy, sometimes dirty, and always with something interesting to see or do.

• GG – if you get a chance to read this, just want you to know I’m thinking about you and hoping you’re feeling better today. I’ve been reading a lot since I’ve been here, and had time to think and write, and think some more. I’m pretty happy overall – I needed to have the experience of moving, alone, to strange city and learning how to make it home, and so far that’s exactly what the Fulbright is providing me. I’ll call you this evening!

• Last night the supper party Elizabeth cooked up was delicious. Everyone had a great time, and at least one new couple was formed. A female friend of Trish’s came, so for once I was not the only person to be significant other-less here – I know, poor poor pitiful me! (I love that song, lately more than ever…) This girl is studying law, like our roommate, and was super-nice. We all went dancing, to Antifaz again, and had a great time. Dancing is proving to be a great release for me here.

Well, folks, that’s all the news that’s fit to report from Barrio El Recuerdo. I miss you all, until the next time! Please comment – Mom thinks no one is reading my blog if you don’t. :-)

Vivaldi's Spring

Today on the bus, I heard Vivaldi’s “Spring.” Not on my ipod, not on the radio, but live. Personally, I can barely stand up on the bus without falling over even when using my hands, arms, and everything to hang on – the roads are bumpy, the buses stop without warning every time a pedestrian even looks like they might be thinking about taking a ride, and they are all manual transmissions that have their own quirky lurches and launches. But there he was, a student by the looks of him, fervently swinging his bow across those four strings. Vivaldi! For an added flourish, he told us as he finished the piece that as an artist, his true thanks was a heartfelt smile, but that he wouldn’t turn down monetary compensation if that’s what how spirit moved us.

For me, that bus musician summed up Bogotá in a violin case. Artistic, energetic, talented, charming, chipped, and slightly desperate but dignified nonetheless. That’s the city for me.

Every Sunday in Bogota, hundreds of kilometers of city streets are shut down so people can bike, skate, and jog without worrying about cars! These photos are from this past Sunday on 26th Street near my house.