Colombian Pesos

Below, you can see the currency we are currently spending. The largest bill is 50,000 pesos (about $25 USD), at the top left.


I really like the pictures on the currency. The faces have a lot of character. According to Wikipedia, these people are:

• Jorge Isaacs (50,000), a famous writer and politician from Cali.
• Julio Garavito Armero (20,000), a child prodigy and distinguished scientist. A crater on the moon is named for him.
• Policarpa Salavarrieta (10,000) was a seamstress who spied for the revolutionary army of Colombia at a time when Spain was trying to regain control of S. America (for which she was executed).
• José Asunción Silva (5,000), Colombia´s most celebrated poet.
• Francisco de Paula Santander (2,000), a military and political leaders during the struggle for independence.
• Jorge Eliécer Gaitán (1,000) an early to mid 20th century politician and populist leader who was assassinated.

The coins are quite pretty as well:

Curiously, to me anyway, there is no bill featuring the man widely considered the architect of the independence not only of Colombia, but almost all of S. America: Simón Bolívar.

Thinking of visiting?

Just a quick note that flights are cheap!
At least from NYC...
NYC - Cali ($407) here

People In Motion

[Disclaimer: we did not take this photo]
While leaving one furniture shop the other day, I noticed traffic was non-existent on what is normally a very busy road. I was pleased, as I needed to cross, and was in too much of a hurry to contemplate my good fortune. But in a few brief moments, it became clear: there was a march heading my way. This was much larger than the student march I described earlier, with participants extending for about half a mile. I couldn’t make out the sign the leaders were holding, nor could I understand the chants as the bullhorns they were using further distorted a language to which my ear is still green. The animated crowd were at the head of the procession, and they drew a crowd of onlookers, including women holding children on balconies and a gaggle of otherwise bored bombaros (firemen). The participants ranged in age from young adults to the middle-aged, and I got the impression that it had something to do with workers rights, as all participants appeared to be blue-collar workers. As the procession continued, the energy levels definitely dissipated. A few younger men with bullhorns were interspersed in the crowd, trying to create some energy, but many of the marchers seemed unmoved to such an extent that they couldn’t muster the steam to wave their red cloths, but instead tied them around their necks or tucked them loosely in their pockets. And I wondered if this lack of enthusiasm, mostly from the older participants, signaled disinterest or apathy bred from a history of unacknowledged alienation.

When my contemplative leering pulled a pair of eyes from the forward progress of the march, I turned to my signature move: I smiled stupidly and waved. But at least I didn’t trip.

Enterprising Businessmen

Where there is a will (and a market), there is a way. It is the invisible hand at work! I´ll let one of the fine reporters at Reuters tell the story:

U.S. captures $187 million drug haul in submarine
Tue Sep 16, 2008 11:48pm EDT

By John McPhaul

SAN JOSE, Costa Rica (Reuters) - The U.S. coast guard captured a submarine-like vessel equipped with sophisticated navigation equipment and stuffed with seven tonnes of cocaine, Costa Rican authorities said on Tuesday.

In a difficult nighttime operation during the weekend, U.S. officials arrested four Colombian smugglers on board the 59-foot (18-meter) steel and fiberglass vessel in international waters before they could sink it.

"The boat was partially submerged but you can't call it amateurish. The drug traffickers are not amateurs," Jose Pastor, a spokesman for Costa Rica's public security ministry told Reuters.

Several makeshift submarines toting drugs have been captured recently on the high seas. In July, the Mexican special forces captured a similar submarine carrying 200 tightly wrapped packages of cocaine.

On Saturday, the U.S. Coast Guard sent a team of special agents on small boats to surprise the smugglers after a U.S. Navy airplane spotted the sub. When the traffickers realized the agents were on their deck they shifted the boat violently in an attempt to throw the officers into the sea.

After that failed, they complied with orders not to open hatches designed to sink the craft, said the Coast Guard.

"This was the most dangerous operation of my career," Todd Bagetis, the lieutenant in charge of the Coast Guard team, said in a statement.

Official photos showed the craft packed full of 37 bales of cocaine with a street value of $187 million.

The vessel was likely capable of traveling from South America to the U.S. coast without stopping for fuel or supplies, said the Coast Guard.

The U.S. ship that nabbed the traffickers was set to arrive to the Costa Rican port of Caldera on Wednesday with the drug boat in tow, Pastor said.

(Additional reporting by Mica Rosenberg, editing by Patricia Zengerle)

Things we are eating that you are not: Papa Rellena

Today we're going to give you the first installment in what will surely be a semi-regular series about food we are eating that you are not. Today we will discuss papa rellena [ray - AYE - na], which means something like stuffed potato, shown above. This is a ball of rice, meat, and potato, encased in a doughy ball, then covered with a batter and deep fried. There is definitely cumin in it as well. It is kind of greasy, but awesome. Best of all, these are CHEAP. Streetside vendors and small restaurants offer them all over, and they cost between 60 cents and a dollar for a ball as big as your fist (or bigger, if you have small hands). So good for us, too bad for you (that you can´t have it). See the tasty innards below:

Summer with the Hedmans

So, we spent the majority of the summer in Charlottesville (where I contracted a most virulent strain of poison ivy that only recently dissipated). It was nice to share the family vibe with my sister and hers, despite the fact that we were gone somewhere or other just about every weekend. It passed much faster than I had anticipated, wiling away the days in the idyllic woodlands of southwestern Virginia. So much so, in fact, that our time was almost exhausted before we realized that we hadn’t taken many pictures.

So, highlights of our time in Virginia (not including the poison ivy) included: a trip to Water Country USA, introducing the Hedmans to a number of foods they likely would have been better off without (including falafel and fish sauce, but not together of course), playing with the dogs, frequent trips to the hot tub, trying to breathe through a pvc hose while patching leak in the pool underwater (which didn’t work so well), seeing Ben transform the space above their shed into the start of a wonderful bed-and-breakfast, being unintentionally groped by my sister (don’t ask, you don’t want to know), and reminiscing about events that only seem funny among siblings. Thank you Hedmans (and everyone else we stayed with), for extending such boundless hospitality.

Jess loving Tug


The Hedmans in their natural habitat

Colombian rides

I always enjoy seeing what kind of cars are driven in other places, and in Cali there is quite a range. You see legions of tiny cabs, smaller than the iconic Chevette, then the occasional SUV preferred by the affluent. Renualts are popular here as well as Latin American Chevrolets you’ve never seen, and a horde of motorcycles and scooters, mostly under 100 cc.

The real treasures, however, are the older cars that have made their way here and have been kept in operating condition (which is a relative term). Here are photos of two such gems we stumbled across recently (not literally):

Here is a Hudson in surprisingly good condition.

And a type of car I have never encountered before, a Zastava 1300:

Contact Information!

So now that we have an apartment and a cell phone, here is our contact info.

Jessica and Clayton Maring
Avenida 8a Norte, No. 14-35
Barrio Granada, Cali, Colombia
Sud America
Telefono Celullar: 310-452-8669

That last part is our cell number, and if you send us something it would be good to include it after the address. To call it from the states however, you would need to first dial the coutry code, 57. If you use skype, just choose the country Colombia, and it will add the country code for you.

Our apartment is a good size. A bedroom, living room, bathroom and big kitchen. Lots of windows and high ceilings make it feel bigger than it actually is. 3 locked doors stand between us and the general public, so it feels pretty safe too. It´s only 2 blocks from my school and 7 blocks from where clayt will start volunteer work on Monday (a human right organization, more on that later from him). Hope you can come visit us sometime, we would love to share this beautiful place with all of you!

Shopping for The Essentials (and I don´t mean Neal Diamond records)

Fact: Apartments in Colombia generally come two ways – fully furnished or completely empty. By completely empty I mean there is no refrigerator, stove, or even hot water heater (people don’t seem to use hot water for much beyond showering here). As the furnished apartments cost about double that of the bare apartments, we went with the latter. We were lucky enough to find a place that did have an electric hot water heater in the shower and a gas double-burner in the kitchen. And so, we have been on the streets buying the first appliances of our lives, as well as the necessary furniture. It has been a daunting process. Given our limited Spanish, the conversations have gone something like this (from our perspective, of course):


Salesperson:
Blah blah blah blah?

Us:
…We need a refrigerator.

Salesperson:
[gesturing at a much too large fridge] Blah blah blah blah. Blah blah blah blah. Blah blah blah blah. Blah blah blah blah. Blah blah blah blah?

us:
[looking at each other]… did you get that? Me neither…

Salesperson:
Entiende? (Do you understand?)

us:
…No…

Salesperson:
OK. [gesturing at the much too large fridge] BLAH.. BLAH.. BLAH.. BLAH.. BLAAAH. BLAH.. BLAH.. BLAH.. BLAH.. BLAAAH. Blah blah blah blah?

us:
[with uncomfortable smiles]… ummmh… Mas pequeño por favor…

And so on, until we are sitting at a desk and they are writing a sales slip for the items we looked at. No, we are not buying said items. Salespeople here insist on writing you a sales slip so that you can bring it back if you decide to buy it (or maybe they just wanted to avoid doing this all over again next time). Given my comparison-shopping, I must have collected 20 of those slips.

You may be surprised to hear that we were able to procure all of the essentials in this manner.

An Early Birthday Gift

Last Saturday Clayton came home (we have an apartment now, more on that later) with an early birthday gift for me - a mini-pinscher puppy, and he´s just a month and a half old. He is of course one of the cutest things in the world (see photos below) and quite the charmer. When we are out and about, women of all ages flock to him and kiss him profusely. His name is Aureliano. I named him after the main character in the book 100 Years of Solitude, my favorite book by Gabriel Garcia Marquez, who happens to be a Colombian author. So, it seemed a fitting name. He has vaccines and papers, which means bringing him home to the states when the time comes shouldn´t be an issue.
So, here he is:

Real Quick!

So things have been very busy! We have an apartment, we have a new little puppy, my job is going well, clayton is tutoring and looking for work and studying spanish, i got a great evaluation for my first teaching observation, we are enjoying colombian food, and we´ve made a few friends! We don´t have internet at home yet so posting has been difficult. We´ll try to post pics and info about everything soon. We´re doing just fine!

Well... that´s new!

So, a couple of days ago a car bomb went off in the middle of the night. Apparently, it was pretty loud. It went off a couple of kilometers from us. We slept through it. Unfortunately, many poor people here sleep on the streets under business awnings and the overhangs of entranceways. Some of these people were sleeping in front of the justice building where the bomb went off. In terms of safety, remember this for some perspective: about seven years ago Jess and I were only a few miles from the Pentagon when it was struck by an airplane. For more, here is the Reuters article:


Four killed in suspected Colombian rebel car bomb

BOGOTA (Reuters) - At least four people were killed and around 20 more wounded by a car bomb in the Colombian city of Cali in one of the worst urban attacks this year, authorities said on Monday.

The suspected guerrilla bomb hit the local court building in Cali, near Colombia's Pacific coast where drug traffickers transport cocaine shipments north to the United States and Mexico, officials said.

"The bomb was located near the court building ... and unfortunately four people were killed," Cali Mayor Jorge Ivan Ospina told local Caracol radio.

Police said they believed FARC guerrillas were responsible for the attack.

Violence from Colombia's four-decade war has ebbed under President Alvaro Uribe, a hard-liner who has used billions of dollars in U.S. aid to send troops to drive Marxist FARC rebels back into the remote jungles and mountains.

Urban bombings are more scarce, but fighting continues in some rural areas, especially regions where coca leaf is grown to make cocaine that has helped fuel fighting.

Seven people were killed when a bomb exploded in a small town in mid August. Authorities blamed rebels who they said were retaliating against efforts to eradicate coca crops.

FARC guerrillas have been battered to their weakest in years by Uribe's U.S.-backed security campaign and several top commanders have been killed this year. But rebels remain a force in remote areas, aided by profits from drug trafficking.

(Reporting by Patrick Markey, Editing by Sandra Maler)

The adventures of Mr. Clayton

The sidewalk area on many roads is not a public sidewalk per say, but more of an extension of the building in front of it. As most buildings in our neighborhood are connected within a block, the walkways are also connected. However, each building owner appears to have the privilege of selecting the materials to construct the walkway, and of choosing the height of said walkway. This makes for a rather hazardous walk, like walking across abutting mini-plateaus. This requires vigilance. However, because we are fairly new here, we are often looking at this or that, and can be lulled into a false sense of security by any unusually long stretch of consistent walkway. This can end in tears. And then I think to myself, how can I hope to be vigilant against the terrorists if I can’t even be vigilant about the ground beneath my feat? A side note, did you know you are at a much greater risk of foot injury when wearing flip-flops? It must be true. I saw it on TV. Knowing is half the battle.

I have a sneaking suspicion that I am like Mr. Bean here. I don’t speak the language well, so I don’t say much and make a lot of dumb faces. Also, I look somewhat different. I am a bit more stout than your average Colombian. Also, Colombian men do not tend to wear shorts or baseball caps, which I wear just about every day. So, I amble around the streets, looking like the square peg, smiling and nodding dumbly, or possibly saying “Good evening” in the afternoon.

And then there are silly situations I come across where I try to help others. Sometimes it comes off; when I picked up a woman’s hair clip or pointed out a few pesos a man had dropped. Other times it is awfully Mr. Beanesque. Today, for example, I was walking down the road on my way to the grocery store. I had just had a pleasant exchange with a man that wanted to sell me “big shrimp” (I declined, but it ended amiably enough), when a brillo-type pad fell at my feet (picture Mr. Bean). This was more of an industrial abrasive pad, I guess. I look up to see a young man looking down at me. We both looked at each other for a moment. The young man three stories up, so I wasn’t sure if I could get it back up to him.

He didn’t indicate that I should, but I picked it up and gave it a perfect toss, but alas, he fumbled it and back down it came. Like a good Mr. Bean, I picked it back up and gave it another toss, this one somewhat errant. Keep in mind, we are on a busy street and I have some onlookers now. Down the pad comes. A third time, I give it a mighty toss (it takes a lot of force to throw a brillo pad up three stories), and this time it is just out of reach. On its descent, the wind catches it and pulls it into the first floor balcony. The young man gives me a “that’s OK” wave off, but I’m sure he was thinking “why didn’t I just go down and get it? I’d be back up by now.”

As I walk away, I am struck by an odor. It is coming from my throwing hand. Now don’t get too worried. It wasn’t an unpleasant odor, but rather a familiar odor: pungent, yet somehow addicting, with a faint trace of petroleum. Walking down the street I must have smelled my hand about five times (Mr. Bean-style: wrinkling my nose as I take it in, a hint of investigative tension in my furrowed brow). And then I place it and a Prustian moment washes over me: it is chrome polish. I am transported to the first thaw of spring in years gone by, when I would pull out the cleaning supplies and give my motorcycle a good scrub, then shine it to a brilliant gleam (Again, see Mr. Bean: face turned to the sky with a faraway and wistful expression).

But I am pulled back to this world in one of those all-too-human moments, when the ground under my feet deceives me: the level drops a half-foot or so, and I am sent stumbling and flailing past a busy open-air restaurant of lunchers. I do not give them the satisfaction of looking back. And I carry on…