Feeds:
Posts
Comments

Archive for the ‘Colombia’ Category

Valencian street vendors

In many European cities young African men line the streets selling knock-off Gucci bags and colourful scarves.  Valencia is no exception.  On any given Sunday (or Monday, Tuesday, Wednesday…) you can stroll down the street and the sidewalks are packed with street vendors urging you to take a look at their offerings.

This is of course illegal.

As such the vendors are not big on photo-taking, hence the less than exceptional quality of this photo – apologies.

As one might expect, these public spaces are regulated by the city, and street vendors are required to have a license in order to peddle their wares.  Yet in Valencia vendors appear to be more or less accepted by both the public and the authorities.  Given that vendors are consistently set up in the same spots, if the police were interested in stopping them from selling, this would not be a difficult task.

Yet vendors do get harassed and therefore take the precaution of spreading their wares on blankets that they can quickly pull up should they need to make a fast move.

Funny how this practice appears more readily accepted in Europe than it is, for example, in Colombia.  In Bogotá I consistently witnessed street vendors being harassed and chased by the police and they too employ a similar ‘blanket’ system for fast get-aways.

Street vendor in Bogotá being asked to leave by police.

So, what to make of it?

Woman dragging her goods away.

On one hand, do we really need more commercial activity dominating our public spaces?  From an optimistic point of view, zoning is an attempt to create some commercial-free space (among other things).

From a more pessimistic perspective, is this simply a reflection of further criminalization of poverty?  For many who sell on the streets, this is one of the few avenues available to make an income (in Europe they are often illegal immigrants).

Not to mention that people LOVE their designer bags and illegal DVDS – if there was no market the vendors wouldn’t be there.

Speaking of markets, while I understand the appeal of brand-name bags and new scarves (I’ve been known to buy one or two of the latter myself), where is the market for the light-up toy cats that vendors are selling in reputable nighttime establishments?  Because in addition to the street vendors, there are also men who invade the bars, selling roses, lighters and the most absurd knickknacks I have ever seen.  Which makes me more curious than anything else.

Please tell me, who is casually sitting at the bar with their friends thinking to themselves, “If only I could get me some sparkly toys to go with my witty repartee?”

Really, who buys this:

Practical AND Pretty.

While I have mixed feelings about street vendors and their use of public spaces, I am clear on one thing – we must immediately figure out how to zone Hello Kitty products out of the city!

What can I say, I’ve never liked cats.

Read Full Post »

My Colombian friends in Bogotá believe that “Tienes Una Fiesta En Tus Pantalones” is the token Spanish phrase in American movies, and hence they would repeat it incessantly.  Which was a little bit annoying, but mostly hilarious.

Baby beer and Mama beer.

However, if you want to know about a real fiesta, forget Colombia, or the US… you need to go to Spain.

“Fiesta” is the Spanish word for party, an event I believe the Spaniards may have invented.  Despite the fact that Spain is known for its partying (see: drunk German tourists), I really had no idea what I was getting myself into when I moved here.  Sure Spaniards go out late… but heck!  I can stay up late, once in a while… ha.

Say you innocently want to go out for a spot of dancing – sounds lovely, no?  How do you feel about waiting until 4 o’clock – IN THE MORNING?

Seriously.

"Party in the club..."

Spain is ridiculous.   On average, clubs open at midnight, which by no means is an indication that people might show up at midnight, far from it.  Rather, folks may start to show up around 3am… and the DJ may start spinning live at 4am.  WTW??!!

And we’re not just talking about clubs!

Last Friday we went out with some friends for dinner and a casual drink.  Of course early dinner meant we ate at 9pm (more on meal times in a future post), and subsequently ended up at the bar around 11pm… and it was, empty.  Literally.  One of the “hot spots” of Valencia, and all you could hear was the scraping of tables as the promotional drink folks set up their booth, while shooting us confused looks.

I honestly don’t understand how this society functions.  Period.  I for one have solidified my “abuela” status by refusing to participate in their shenanigans (a girl needs to sleep!).

And, I don’t even have a job.  “Que pena!”

Read Full Post »

Learning a new language is hard.

Really, really, hard.

Well, for me at least.  One of the primary reasons behind the ‘quit my job, sell my condo’ decision, was that for many moons I’ve wanted to become fluent in Spanish.  On the bucket list… if you can have a bucket list at 31.

Gratuitous beach photo - studying Spanish, of course.

In fact, I would like to be fluent in many languages, but after a miserable attempt at Mandarin eight years ago, I lowered my expectations (they have TONES in Chinese – tones!).  Here is my rationale for picking Spanish:

  • Given my relative fluency in French, Spanish seems much more obtainable than, anything else.
  • Spanish is spoken in many places that I would like to go and/or possibly live in the future (I heart Latinos).
  • As an official language of the UN, Spanish is easily justified as a professional investment.
  • Apparently almost 500 million people in the world speak Spanish as a first language (and 3% of Canadians).  Huh.
  • And lastly, it has nicer sounds than say, German.

I know, I said it.  Hopefully I’m still allowed to deliver cross-cultural sensitivity training.

Unfortunately I am not one of those language geniuses that has a whiff of Mexican air and is spouting Spanish poetry the next day.  Thus, 16 hours of classes through the Vancouver School Board three years ago didn’t quite cut it.  It’s also hard to be motivated in an English-speaking country, and for this reason I always told myself that some day I would take a year to go and live in a Spanish-speaking country and really learn the language.

Well, helllllloo year.

A regular potpourri at Nueva Lengua

I started with one month of classes in Bogotá at Nueva Lengua – overall a good introduction, though certainly not an inexpensive one (20 hours of classes a week costs $220 USD!).  But, I was keen on Colombia and told repeatedly that the Spanish accent in Bogotá is very neutral (none of that lisping the Spaniards are so keen on).  After a month of classes I could awkwardly stammer out a request for assistance in a store/restaurant/hotel.  Fantastico!

And then I travelled for a month, promising myself I would study daily… oops.

BUT, now I’m in Valencia and have re-committed myself to learning this glorious/occasionally frustrating language at Espanole.  Right.

It helps that there is relatively little English here.  In fact, I feel as though I’ve had a breakthrough this week!  I understood an entire excerpt from a Spanish novel that wasn’t dumbed down for novices!  After I read it twice.  Slowly.  Fantastico!

Some thoughts on learning a new language… especially if you’re over 22 years old.

Team Swenada outside school.

I recognize that my language skills are at a very basic level, but my thoughts are not.  It is incredibly frustrating to not be able to address the gross oversimplifications made in class on what is seemingly a daily basis.  While typically we discuss simple subjects  such as eating, sleeping, and family, inevitably somebody says something like:

“All plastic surgery is wrong.”

Which for some reason creates a burning desire to debate, and I point out that somebody in a serious car accident might require plastic surgery and ask if that’s wrong.  And then when everyone agrees that isn’t wrong, I forge ahead, trying to point out the slippery slope that is our ever-shifting moral code.  Of course I know none of these words in Spanish.  Instead I make a lot of guttural sounds and awkward hand gestures.

Sigh.

While many teachers are sensitive to the fact that not being able to speak a language fluently, does not translate to a lack of intelligence, this can’t be said for everyone.  “Carla-ita”, my teacher of 2 days last week (thank goodness), speaks to (adult) students as though they’ve just figured out how doors open, and she grates on my nerves like a mofo.

“Wow Carla, it really is AMAZING that people drink coke in The Netherlands AND Latvia!  What an incredible cultural insight!”

And so it goes.  Most of the time when I try to speak the language it just feels like someone stuffed my cheeks full of cotton and then dared me to run errands.  But I’m getting better, slowly but surely, and I am determined to be able to explain slippery slopes without hand gestures by the end of the year.

Read Full Post »

Our last night in Cartagena we decided to take a break from watching True Blood (is it wrong to watch 3 seasons of tv while you’re travelling?), to see if there was any “culture” on offer that was better than vampire sex.

Turns out, not so much.

Having thoroughly enjoyed walking the cobblestone streets of the old city during the day, we decided to take a gander at night, and absorb some colonial ambiance.

Approximately 30 minutes into our stroll, thunder cracked in the distance, and instantly the skies split open into a furious, tropical rainstorm.  Everyone immediately ran for cover… save the lone restaurant eater who tried to stick it out (see pictures).

From the cover of our wee awning, I caught this fantastic (read: mediocre) footage.  Unfortunately I’m not convinced it demonstrates the magnitude of this instant monsoon:

Hovering under an awning provided temporary relief, but the rain did not want to let up… thus after 40 minutes we were forced to wind our way back through the old city.  What was once a charming, historical town during the day, became an antiquated, garbage-infested, poorly planned city by night/rain.  We walked through water that was a foot deep.  A FOOT DEEP.

Apparently Cartagena has no sewers.

Let me stress, especially to my fellow planners, the importance of building in sewers in a city.  Otherwise you end up with this:

This slideshow requires JavaScript.

Read Full Post »

The nebulous field of cultural planning is difficult to grasp.  How does one work to ensure that a City maintains a vibrant art, theatre, and heritage environment?  And what constitutes culture in the first place?  Who should decide what is public art, and what is blasphemy?

Well, me.  Obvi.  But sometimes cities fail to consult me…

For example, when American artist Dennis Oppenheim’s 1997 work came to Vancouver as part of the 2005 Sculpture Biennale,

"The Device to Root Out All Evil" - Vancouver.

no one asked me.  If they had I would have approved it, but when this upside down church was installed in a park in downtown Vancouver, many people were outraged.  Others loved it.  There is no doubt is that this installation impacted public space in Vancouver.

So… is this cultural planning?

When I worked at the COB, they did not have cultural planners (unlike Vancouver).  Instead issues that arose were divided between Planning, and Parks, Recreation & Culture. Inevitably I suspect this led to a lack of vision and strategic planning on developing a creative city.  Instead policies develop in a piecemeal fashion, with varying degrees of success.

This is perhaps common among municipalities who do not have the resources to dedicate to cultural planning… which inevitably falls to the bottom of the priority list.  Many people do not see why art and culture might be as important to the vitality of a city as sewers and crosswalks.  Unfortunately the benefits of creating a creative city are more difficult to quantify than the benefits of clean water.

Not that I don’t appreciate potable water.

When working on the Social Sustainability Strategy, the COB folded ‘cultural issues’ into social planning.  Yet many argue that we ought to recognize a fourth leg of the infamous sustainability stool – in addition to Social, Environmental, and Economic legs, many believe that a Cultural leg is equally important.

Recognizing that municipalities are playing a growing role in the development of arts, culture and heritage in Canada, the Creative City Network of Canada (CCNC) is an organization of municipal staff working in communities across Canada on arts, cultural and heritage policy, planning, development and support.

I wonder what they would say about the cultural celebration I saw in Cartagena last week.

Designated a UNESCO World Heritage Site, the colonial walled city is a charming collection of colourful and well-preserved buildings that transport you back to a time of the Spanish Conquest.  On November 11, 1811 Cartagena declared their independence from Spain (yea!), and in present day the celebrations last for several weeks.  Parades, music, food and decorations abound in the old walled city.

And what better way to celebrate independence from Spain then with… blackface:

Children dressed as slaves in blackface.

Ummm… are those young, black, Colombian girls dressed in blackface???  That’s right, the 19th century theatrical practice that propagated racist stereotypes by painting actors in black makeup.  WTW??

Not only did children dress up as slaves, but also as Spanish conquistadors.  And the costumes were AMAZING.  But, a-la-Carrie-Bradshaw, I couldn’t help but think to myself… “Is this a cultural celebration?”

I’m not sure what kind of marks Cartagena gets on sensitive cultural representation, but they do a darn purty job on the heritage buildings…

This slideshow requires JavaScript.

Read Full Post »

Backpacking in Luxury

At the ripe old age of 31, I have adjusted my backpacking style somewhat.

While I continue to stay in hostels, I am loath to share large dorm rooms with the party peoples who insist on returning at 3am (5 hours past my bedtime) and having sex with their new ‘best friend’, assuming no one can see/hear them (?!), before getting up at 5am to catch an early bus and rustling every plastic bag imaginable in the process.  After which I myself am forced to get up and find a communal shower that I can use without touching any of the scummy surfaces that are screaming for an anti-bacterial product of maximum strength.

Ugh.

I prefer to meet new Colombian friends who invite me into their luxury beach-front homes in Santa Marta.

True story.

My new/old best friend Martin (would you believe we met at a UN conference in Rio de Janeiro in March, and then re-connected on the first day of la Ciudad Perdida trek – small world!!), casually invited the team to come to his condo – which turned out to be a 5 star luxury resort.

This slideshow requires JavaScript.

This is clearly the life I’m meant to be living.

And certainly not the first bout of generosity that I’ve experienced with Colombians.  I wonder if some of this incredible hospitality is motivated by the fact that until recently there was no such thing as tourism in Colombia.  Concerns over safety and security issues prevented foreigners from visiting this amazing country (and still do to some extent).

Having spoken with Colombian friends about this I have the impression that many Colombians are very invested in changing the international image of their country, and perhaps this is part of the motivation behind the generosity I’ve experienced over and over again.  Colombians are determined that visitors should have a positive experience during their stay.

And indeed I have.

Read Full Post »

Parque Tayrona is a national park on the north coast of Colombia (close to Santa Marta), reputed to be full of beautiful, isolated beaches, accessible only by foot (or the ubiquitous Colombian donkey).

Unfortunately it’s not all it’s cracked up to be.

Karin and I hiked through 2 hours of muddy, sweaty, mosquito-infested trails (memories of La Ciudad Perdida..), before arriving in Cabo San Juan, at the western end of the trail, supposedly a “must-see”.  While certainly beautiful, the one hostel/campsite was way overpriced for the very mediocre facilities on offer.

Titanic Beds

Who doesn’t provide mosquito nets in a malaria filled jungle??!!

As such, we opted for the more expensive bedding (read: *hammocks) at the top of a beautiful lookout – the “Mirador.”  Apparently the ocean breezes would keep us free of mosquitoes.

And it did… sort of.

In fact, the wind was so effective that I lay in my (tiny) hammock, in every item of clothing I had brought, slowly freezing to death.  When I finally managed to drift off to sleep, I was awoken by thunder and lightning, immediately followed by a storm of epic proportions.

Our hammocks were conveniently ‘ocean view’, which meant that within minutes we were drenched and fighting to see through the water.  As you may have noticed there was no shelter to prevent rain from coming inside the structure.  This in an area where it rains almost every day.

Poor planning.

We spent the next two hours reliving Titanic as our hammocks swayed and we shut our mouths to keep from drowning in the thundering rain.  And then Karin decided that my hammock was drier so two of us slept in a hammock built for 1/2 a person.  Ugh.

Needless to say we packed up the next morning and bitterly moved back to (slightly) more sheltered but equally uncomfortable hammock in Arrecifes (further east on the coastline).

And then we snapped a few pictures of the park (indeed, beautiful) and left, never to return.

This slideshow requires JavaScript.

*Having slept in hammocks on the beach for over 5 nights now, I can assure you that it is not nearly as romantic as you might imagine…

Read Full Post »

A few days ago I found The Lost City.  For reals.  And it only took 5 days of trekking in the middle of a mosquito-infested jungle full of (potentially) lethal hazards and moldy blankets, but I found it.

Ceremonial terraces

Over the last 5 weeks Karin and I met over a dozen people who consistently shared horror stories of their “Ciudad Perdida” treks on the northern coast of Colombia.  Treacherous paths, non-stop humidity, torrential downpours, carnivorous mosquitoes, deep river crossings, telltale blisters, and flea-infested accommodation.  And for these privileges you pay the low price of approximately $275 CAD.  By the time we were set to leave we had convinced ourselves that this would be one of the most difficult hikes we had ever done.

Not so much.

While certainly an intermediate to advanced hike, we managed to complete each day’s route in 2-4 hours.  Including swimming breaks.  For tough Canadian/Swedish women such as ourselves, this was not the onerous journey we had been expecting.

Granted our seemingly unlimited supply of luck continued, and despite being in the midst of rainy season, we hiked every day with clear skies.  Had the promised downpours materialized no doubt the steep, muddy/clay portions of the trail would have been much more difficult to negotiate.

But the point is that Karin and I are better than everyone else.  Right.

Now, to land planning issues.

La ciudad perdida is located is the traditional territory of the Tayrona people, now extinct.  The current indigenous people are called the Kogi, and are descendants of the Tayronas, the architects of la ciudad perdida.  The origins of the city date back to the 7th century however the city was abandoned during the Spanish conquest when the Tayrona people were wiped out.  Currently all that remains are a series of circular plateaus where people’s houses once stood.

Kogi children

In short we were hiking on sacred indigenous land.

In fact, not so uncommon.  Many of the most beautiful places I’ve been in the world, were once important traditional lands for indigenous people.  Which makes sense – I too would pick the most beautiful spots for my ceremonial locations.

And so the great debate reigns… is this type of low-impact tourism (non-motorized camping in the case of la ciudad perdida) helping improve the lives of indigenous people through increased resources, or deteriorating the culture further?

Our Colombian guide Nicolas, is close friends with the local shaman, and relayed his concerns that his people’s culture is slowly being eroded through contact with foreigners.  Traditions such as husbands and wives sleeping separately are giving way to foreign practices observed at the camps, and young men are no longer interested in living alone in the jungle for 5 years in order to become a shaman.

However other traditional cultural practices include women being married off after they start menstruating (we saw several pregnant children), and sacrificing disabled babies who “won’t be able to survive” in the jungle.

In my opinion, there were few redeeming ‘cultural elements’ for women – in addition to being chosen for marriage around the age of 13, widows are also provided to young men in order to “learn” how to become men, and unlike their male counterparts, are not allowed to wear shoes despite doing all of the lifting/carrying on the difficult jungle paths.

Sign me up.

Several members of our groups justified these practices as “cultural.”  Justifying inequality/misogyny under the banner of culture is the one truly universal “cultural” practice.  Because culture is not a static concept.  Cultures evolve, shift, and reinvent themselves.

Which is not to say that it isn’t important to work to preserve cultures.  I am concerned for indigenous people all over the world who are losing their languages and traditions, integral to our individual identities.  Trying to strike a balance between cultural preservation and human development, in the face of an increasingly global world, is an incredible challenge.

While my brief 5 day experience didn’t provide enough insight to determine what the impact of tourism in la ciudad perdida might mean, I am confident that any attempts to isolate a culture are not productive.

Hopefully it starts with respect.  And a damn good mosquito repellent.

This slideshow requires JavaScript.

Read Full Post »

Family Finca

My experiences with Colombians have been fantastic and the Zona Cafetera was no exception.

Karin and I flew into Armenia, arriving at 8pm in a strange city with a tentative hostel reservation.  While waiting for our bags, a Colombian woman approached us and asked us about our travel plans.  Long story short, in a matter of 5 minutes, Adelaida invited us back to her farmhouse (finca) to stay with her family.  Just like when Canadians take total strangers home from the airport…

Amazing.

Adriana’s wonderful family welcomed us to their farm, located just outside Quimbaya, in the heart of the coffee region.  Every bit the stereotype one might expect/hope for, the main house winds its way around fruit trees ripe with bananas, oranges, and the newly discovered zapote (delicious).  Bright pink and purple flowers practically explode from the bushes while a curtain of orange wild flowers hangs alongside the main path alongside the house.  Hammocks hang languidly around the property, ready to attend to the needs of book lovers.

I fell in love.

This slideshow requires JavaScript.

While staying at the farm we were taken on a tour of the plantation, which has been in the family for many generations.  Primarily a hobby farm, the land is currently rented out to locals who produce organic bananas, coffee, and plantains.

Our visit focused on delicious food, freshly squeezed juice, talking Colombian politics, and horseback riding in a valley of bamboo.  You know, the usual.

I am both thankful and inspired by the kindness and generosity of the Colombian people, who consistently seem eager to extend their hospitality to foreigners.  Muchas gracias a la familia de Adelaida!

Read Full Post »

*Editors Note: This post was written last week however a lack of electricity (welcome to Colombia!) prevented it from being posted.  Apologies to my dedicated readers (mom).

The coffee region was bliss.

Beautiful vistas, painless travel, gorgeous people, and some much-needed exercise (the city was making me soft…).

Karin and I (did I mention I’m travelling for the next month with a beautiful Swedish feminist…  don’t even worry about it JFL!) started our Colombian backpacking adventure in Salento, a quaint mountainside town located 30 minutes outside of Armenia in la zona cafetera (the coffee region).

"Juan Valdez"

At the suggestion of our local Australian host (for such a sparsely populated island, they sure do get around…), we immediately took off on an 60 minute walk to a small organic coffee farm where I’m pretty sure we met Juan Valdez.  You may recognize him as the fictional character created by the national coffee growers of Colombia.  We know him as flirty-mcflirt.

His grandson provided a tour around their finca (farm), competently explaining the ins and outs of coffee growing/production, and advocating for organic growing methods (but what would J.V. do?).  Both Karin and I were delighted to discover that we understood 95% of the tour.  Despite the fact that our guide deliberately spoke at a snail’s pace, we concluded that we’re practically bilingual now.

Interestingly all coffee in Colombia is sold to the coffee cooperative, and no individual farm is identified in Colombian coffee marketing.  Upon quizzing J.V.’s grandson, he defended this approach as one that leaves no farm susceptible to the volatility of the open market.  This strategy succeeds in building a national product rather than valuing specific companies… somebody tell these commies that there’s PROFIT to be made by screwing somebody.  Just sayin’.

After the tour (and some taste-testing by those who enjoy coffee), we continued on through the valley, surrounded by lush, green, mountain landscapes.  We landed in the small town of Boquia where we enjoyed a leisurely lunch before returning home (aka: hostel).

The following day we set out for the famous Valle de Cocora, a rigorous 5 hour round-trip hike, through the unique setting of “palma de cera”, or “wax palm” trees.  These alien-like plants can reach up to 60 meters of height, and face the threat of extinction, catalyzing the Colombian government to provide protection to their native species.

And thank goodness they did because I took some pretty awesome pics.  The Valle de Cocora was quite the workout (hello glutes!) and provided some excellent training for our upcoming hike in La Ciudad Perdida (coming soon).

This slideshow requires JavaScript.

Read Full Post »

Older Posts »

Follow

Get every new post delivered to your Inbox.

Join 64 other followers