I stepped off the plane in Barranquilla last weekend and was immediately greeted by a group of scantily clothed beauties, their golden legs disappearing into mini skirts like the trunks of slender coconut trees. Long hair fluttered behind them as they wiggled their rear ends to a live cumbia band. Most folks moseyed past the music towards baggage claim, occasionally stopping to snap pictures or clap along side the beat. Couples walked by and boyfriends stole furtive glances at busting chests bouncing up and down as their girlfriends hurried them onward. I stopped in my tracks, entranced by the music and movement. A tall blonde perched atop stiletto heals handed me a whiskey on the rocks and flipped her hair behind her shoulder in one effortless movement, “welcome to carnival!” she grinned, her glossy red lips exposing bright white teeth. I eventually made my way to the baggage carousels, but before I could spot my bag I was faced with another explosion of colors and sounds. Men in yellow outfits were performing a choreographed jig as salseros tapped drums and clanked clave bells behind them. I had barely finished my whiskey when a handsome caballero popped up beside me with two more icey cold beers. True, it was only 11:30 am and I was in an airport, but how could I refuse? This was carnival afterall, a 4 day celebration of music, dance, history, and culture before Ash Wednesday marked the month long sacrifices of Lent. I juggled the drinks in both hands and grabbed my backpack. I started making my way outside toward the bus stand, not wanting to leave the electric energy, when I suddenly felt a tap on my shoulder. “Sonya?” a man’s voice asked softly. I turned around and saw a distantly familiar face smiling back at me. “Jonathan!” I exclaimed, utterly bewildered. No way. This was a caleño I met 7 years ago when I was living in Germany. I hadn't seen or heard from him since. He had left Colombia years ago to pursue studies in Hamburg, and was still living there, but just happened to be back this weekend to celebrate carnival and visit family in Cali. In fact it was him, along with several other Latino friends I made that year in Germany, that originally fueled my interest in living in Latin America. Their patriotic stories of home, bubbly energy, and passionate salsa dancing sparked in me a deep attraction that eventually led me to this part of the world. Bumping into Jonathan years later at Carnival somehow felt bizarrely fitting and obviously called for another celebratory whiskey (Barranquilla's drink of choice). What a wonderful start to the weekend! He and his buddies gave me a lift to the apartment where I was staying w/ some other friends. I immediately dropped off my bags, and wandered into the wind-blown and sunlit streets of Barranquilla, bustling with vendors and ticket-sellers preparing for the coming festivities.
The rest of the weekend was a colorful blur of rum, dancing, exploring, eating, listening to live music, meeting new people, and soaking up the costeño vibes, which are distinctly different from those of Medellin. Medellin, by pure virtue of geography, history and demographics, identifies much more with the campesino, mountain culture than the hot African and Arabic influenced flamboyance you find on the Caribbean coast.
Im now back in Medellin, already missing the sounds and tastes and colors of Barranquilla. After the intensity of carnival, I decided to spend this past weekend laying low. On Sunday I woke up at 4:30 am to link up with the grupo de observadores de aves for a sunrise bird-watching hike. Painful when my alarm went off, but well worth it to breathe fresh mountain air and look at beautiful, colorful pajaros. Anyways, it seems getting up at the but-crack of dawn is my MO these days. My university classes (which are usually 8-12 am on Saturday mornings) now start, thanks to my current professor's schedule, at 7:00 am. Taking into account the 45 min commute to school, this means I’m waking up before sunrise on Saturdays.... prob around the time most of my friends are hitting the sack after a wild night out on the town.
But the truth is I don’t mind la madrugada. I’ve always been an early riser and I love the morning time in Colombia. Plus, the fact that I’m really enjoying my classes right now helps me muster energy to rise out of bed when my alarm blasts off at 5:30 am. My classmates are awesome and we all take a 1/2 hour break during the middle of class to have coffee and snack, which makes the 4 hour session more survivable. I may have spoken to soon about my classes in my last post. While it totally depends on the specific subject and professor, right now I’m loving them. My program is divided into 3 semesters, each with a series of four week intensives of one course. The last one was very theoretical and dry, but my current professor is amazing. The class is 18th Century Socio-Political World History - doesn’t necessarily have the most vibrant ring to it but I find the topic fascinating, especially learning about things from a different perspective than the US/western-based one I’m used to.
There’s reason to believe violence in Medellin is on the rise again. Two Colombian friends of mine were robbed at machete-point while biking in a natural park last weekend (one that I frequently go too), another girlfriend had her cellphone violently jacked, and a week ago a young British tourist was shot dead crossing the road in a neighborhood not far from where I live. Folks say things are getting caliente (heating up) between drug gangs fighting over neighborhood territory. But when I brought all of this up with my classmates last weekend, they seemed to shrug it off nonchalantly. These things are normal here.
I’m reading an excellent book right now called “Killing Pablo” on the rise and fall of drug-lord Pablo Escobar. It is really fantastic and sheds light onto the slaughter-house that was Medellin in the late 80’s and early 90’s. It also depicts how Pablo, though a blood-thirsty, devil to many people, also represented a hero to much of Colombia’s poor population, many of whom still make weekly visits to his gravestone and claim he’s done more for them than any politician ever has. I recommend this book to anyone who wants a better idea on how corrupt and crippled this country was (is) because of the cocaine industry and narco-trafficking, which have since infiltrated the guerilla and paramilitaries and continue to pose serious threats to any type of long-term and widespread development. It also explains why Colombia, the only Latin American country besides Mexico, permanently remains on the State Department’s list of countries with travel warnings.
On a lighter note, NPR's ALT.Latino has been featuring Colombian music and culture on their blog. In the face of all the struggles this country has and continues to shoulder, the people remain talented musicians, dancers, and culture-makers. Every day I'm learning from the people around me who harbor such positive energy, confidence, intelligence, integrity and strong sense of community. Truly inspiring. Take a look/listen at some of the incredible sounds that come out of this place!http://www.npr.org/blogs/altlatino/2011/03/10/134398106/alt-latino-colombia-dreamin
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