Saying goodbyes

The past couple of days have been spent saying goodbyes and enjoying being spoiled...even more than I have been during my tenure here.  We've had some great lunches eating arguably the best steak I've had, and a lot of people feeling simply awful that I won't be here for the Flower Festival.  It is something that many people hear really look forward to and talk very fondly about.  From what I understand, there are only 400 families allowed in preparing the various floral arrangements, so although anyone can watch and enjoy the parades, these families maintain the tradition and integrity of the festival from years past.

Also, a coworker arrived on Tuesday night, starting the transition for her to take over the class that I'm leaving.  She means well, but talks an awful lot and slows my production down immensely.  I was writing my farewell speech and she was going on and on about her boyfriend, that I decided to simply stop writing it until a few mins. before making it.  It meant that I left some things out, but my speech was getting rather long winded anyway, so I think it was probably for the best.

This is Aguardiente, the taste of Medellin.  It is Sambuca, but a little bit smoother than what we get in Toronto.  I'm looking forward to having a shot with you guys once I land back at home later on today.

The Legend of Johnny Boy

We have a ping pong table here at the studio and some of these guys are really good.  What better way to have a grand equalizer than to introduce them to a game called "Johnny Boy."  I believe that it's actually called run-around, but I figured that naming it after my uncle, where we always play the game, would be more fun.  Plus, if he were ever to visit Medellín, they would most likely erect a statue and give him keys the city, making him more famous than Pablo Escobar.

Here's a video of the inaugural game of Johnny Boy:

They only have four paddles, so the game doesn't last as long, but it definitely moves quicker.  This could spawn a trend to PSi staff buying indoor court shoes for better traction.

Santa Fe de Antioquia - Part 2

On our way back to the town, at certain times we would take to the streets with the horses.  I've already wrote quite a bit about the driving here, so when we got to the road, Santiago said "watch out for cars!"  Thanks for the tip.  And since it was getting dark, the lights of oncoming traffic would occasionally spook the horses and they would stop and cautiously move backwards.  I replayed any cowboy movie I had ever seen in my head, trying vigorously to remember the technique they would use when a horse would start bucking.  At this point I had realized that I never really paid that much attention to what they were doing.  I guess I will next time.

After some tasty tamarind juice to quench our thirst, we walked around the old town.  This is one of the churches there, with a wedding mass happening on a nice summer night.  Santa Fe de Antioquia was the original capital of Colombia, and a lot of the buildings here look like they've been around forever.

We bought the cheapest ball we could find and headed back to the resort to play some sort of water polo.  Basically, we set up to lawn chairs on opposite ends of the pool, divided teams, and the whole point was to get the ball to stay in the chair.  A great way get rid of the horse legs.

We all returned back to the house to start preparing dinner...at 10 p.m.  Here, everyone is helping out, except for me.  I did a good job drinking beer and talking to Gonzalo, who was barbecuing some beef and chorizo (sausages).  Not only was I clueless as to the preparation of some of these dishes, but they were adamant about me relaxing and having a good time.  Mission accomplished, that's for sure.  The food was incredible.  The beef, while sinewy and perhaps not the best cut of meat, was awesome.  I tried cutting it on a Styrofoam plate and Santiago was quick to point out that it is common for people to eat with their hands.  It felt a little more carnal, too.  Once again, I'll mention how good the plantains were here.  If you top them with some guacamole, it's one of the most pleasant appetizers I can think of.  So ya, I'll be making more of these at home.

This guy wanted in on the fun.  I can't remember what it is called, but he's about 3-4 inches long.  Such a nice vibrant green, and harmless, although whenever it would start flying around, Santiago would run the other way.

 The next day we spent a lot of time chilling in the pool and drinking beer and sangria.  Another drink we would enjoy was a mixture of beer, coke and lime.  Not my favourite, but a nice curve ball every now and then.

 Another favourite past time - drowning girls.  Maybe I'm getting old, but these guys would find it completely hilarious when they'd start splashing each other non-stop.  Oh well, I was happy they were getting such a kick out of it.

Another great meal served up by Yolima and Gonzalo.  There is a photo that I never took, simply because I wasn't aware of it's significance (to me).  The last meal we had in Santa Fe was sancocho, which is a real typical Colombian dish that takes hours to prepare.  It was moments like this that I was much happier to be at someone's house where they could make their own meals, and not at a hotel eating restaurant fare.  I'd consider this a personal victory.

The next day we had another little guy visit us, but he was a lot smaller.  Slightly larger than our grasshoppers, I found myself getting a closer look at these guys because of their vibrant green.  Of course, moments later I would remember studying them in grade 4 or something, and how some of them have they ability to spit ink and presumed predators.  I realized this about 10 inches away from this guy.  Disaster averted.  Well, maybe.

Here's us in the middle of the lamest version of "keep up," ever.  Everyone kept wanting to play it, so I wanted to be a good sport and remained in the game.  Wow, did we suck.  I'm ashamed just thinking of it, so let's pretend we never played it.  Maybe if that grasshopper spit in my face, I could have a good excuse to sit it out.

Here's our whole Santa Fe crew.  After this photo, the boys went to play some soccer.  It last about 20 minutes because of the incredible heat.  Gonzalo and would have one the ironman award, had their been a ceremony following this epic match.  The other guys would play for 5 mins. and then take a break.  Later on, some of the guys asked "wow, you're really good, do you play a lot in Canada?"  I said that I had played only a bit, one season with Pipeline, and the other with a stronger team, but failed to mention that said team was named Here for Beer, and that we remained true to our name.

On the way home, Gonzalo stopped to get a plastic cup filled with ice.  I figured he was going to chew on it the whole way home because of the temperature.  Boy was I wrong.  He unscrewed the lid to a 1.5 litre 7up bottle, which was some delicious sangria.  He poured it and handed it to me so that I'd have a refreshing beverage for the whole way home.  Plastic cup of sangria in the front seat, with bumpy roads and crazy drivings.  I didn't think it could end well, but an empty bottle of sangria proved me wrong.  What a great idea.

Santa Fe de Antioquia - Part 1

I spent this past weekend in Santa Fe de Antioquia - an old town that receives a lot of tourism and has a number of resorts.  In my opinion, it has something in common with Haliburton - relatively close to the city, but a great place to get away from the hustle.

What has happened with my fellow colleagues who have come to Medellín before me is that Gonzalo and Yolima would rent a hotel room one of the resorts, spending the weekend there.  They own a townhouse in Santa Fe, but normally have it rented out.  I was pretty lucky since this past weekend, nobody had rented out their place, meaning that for the first time in 7 months, they would be able to hang out in their townhouse.  As well, since they own it, they invited the studio to come join in the fun as well.  I think that there were 11 or 12 of us in total, so a nice little party.

I have eaten at a few nice restaurants and enjoyed some pretty good food overall, but to get a taste of some daily cooking is something I was looking forward to.  As I found out over the course of the weekend, I would not be disappointed.

This pool is massive, and perfect for everyone.  At each corner there is a different depth, depending on your interests, and throughout the middle it comes up to the middle of my chest.  Aside from our night swimming venture, this was the emptiest the pool had been all weekend.  Perfect weather had everyone at the resort either poolside or in the water.  Of course, this didn't change the gong show that made up the pool area.  People jumping in, splashing everywhere, balls and other projectiles being tossed all over.  We were the worst of the bunch, playing what could be the most lame game of "keep-up" with a soccer slash volleyball in a big circle.  I think that 7 times was our record, but Gonzalo would count out loud and add in a few numbers every now and then, maybe for positive spirit.  Or maybe just to cheat and break the Santa Fe record, I don't know.

Here's me with my horse, umm, I can't remember his name.  It wasn't something conventional, like Pepe, rather a 5 syllable word that meant nothing.  Had it been named Snoopy, my fate as a successful cowboy would have been sealed and an immediate career change would occur, since that was the horse I rode at Teen Ranch (in Orangeville) and felt that I was pretty f'n good back then.  Nope, no matter how often I would kick my heels into his sides, he would do his own thing.  The guy leading us gave me a really thin branch, about the thickness of a straw, to hit the back of the horse.  Thanks buddy, now the horse is probably just laughing at me.

Here was our riding group - our leader on the left.  He had Gonzalo's camera for the ride, so I'll have to get photos from Gonzalo one of these days.  I'll mention that while steering the horse is easy, maneuvering was quite tricky because of the terrain and various obstacles.  Every now and then I'd hear our leader yell something, and Santiago would translate "watch out for your knees!"  I would look ahead and see this narrow pass, flanked on both sides with some rusted barbed wire.  Great...if only I was riding Snoopy, this would have been a breeze.  Later on, I'd hear things like "watch your head" and various safety issues that certainly had me spending a lot of time watching my immediate surroundings instead of the breathtaking view of the mountains.  

We stopped a few times to just take it all in, which was really nice.  One place in particular, was in the middle of a river.  After heavy rains, the whole riverbed is flooded with water and a pretty strong current.  Since it hadn't rained, we were fortunate enough to cross small parts of it and simply chill out on a rocky shoal.  Looking around, it felt like I could've pitched a tent, had a fire, drank moonshine all night while telling stories of conquests of yore, ready to plunder the next village we would happen upon.  That's when my horse stopped moving to take the longest piss ever, killing my special moment as a cowboy.  Thanks, jerk.

A couple of interesting moments

Two days ago, one of the staff at PSi Colombia asked me if I can bring back transgenic fruits.  I went on to explain that I really like this fruit here called brevas, but I don't want to have problems crossing the border with some sneaky fruit (checked or not), so I wasn't going to bother.  He then asked if transgenic fruits were allowed in Canada, at which point I had to look up what the heck transgenic meant.  So genetically modified fruit, eh?  So I'm looking at him as though he's a mad scientist asking me to partake in an experiment, but look it up to see if they are allowed in Canada.  Sure enough, Canada is cool with it, as well as producing some of our own.  Great.

A few minutes ago, I was hanging out at the mall, like any other 13 year old would do with free time.  I was in the middle of enjoying some Juan Valdez coffee, the best coffee I've had here so far, when an older man came up and said something in Spanish.  I didn't quite catch what he had said, and when he repeated it, he was holding the chair.  I made out that he was asking for a chair, so I said yes, of course.  I looked around and noticed that there were no free tables, which explained why he ended up sitting with me at the table.  No problem there.  Of course, he started up a conversation, which made things a little dicey since I could also barely hear him, let alone understand him.  I pulled my classic "I'm from Canada and don't understand Spanish well,"  but nobody ever believes me right off the bat.  I'm told it's because I hold a Spanish accent well, so while flattering, I can see how that would be deceiving, and consequently how I could simply be viewed as a jerk who doesn't wanna talk.

He spoke in English and I spoke in Spanish, and all went well.  He was simply waiting for a friend to arrive at 11.  We made small talk and all was good, but I noticed that I was drinking my coffee much quicker, which would allow me to leave if necessary.  Sure enough, he asked me a few questions about where I was staying and for how long, and while it all seemed normal enough, I became suspicious of some sort of trickery and deceit.  So I told him that I had to go buy milk and was on my way.

The moral of the story, kids: don't trust old people.

Learn to walk before you can run

Here are a couple of photos from yesterday's class.  We're doing a few different attitude walks, like an angry stomp, or in this case a happy strut.  I'm trying to get them to learn the feel of weight shifting, posture and what various body parts are doing.

In many cases, this just loosens them up a bit and they have some fun acting silly.  However, an added bonus  here is to feel less stupid doing something you normally wouldn't do in front of others.  Insider's tip:  Sometimes, that doesn't quite work.  The other day, when I was practicing these walks to demonstrate to the class, I was practicing in front of the mirror in the public bathroom.  I stopped my walking just as the person turned the corner...disaster averted, right?  Wrong!  Now I'm just a creepy guy, loitering in the men's bathroom.  He happened to be an animator, so I made it into a positive.

El Estudio

Here is where I spend the majority of my time - The Pascual Bravo Technical Institute.

 

It's a pretty nice, new building, but I'm told that people think it's going to come tumbling down because of fast, cheap construction.  I'm reminded of the condos in Toronto that go up in a few months and hope that this fate does not exist for either scenario.

The studio itself is nice.  Some of the studios I have worked for are essentially warehouses with desks, so I truly enjoy working at a studio with some atmosphere - something Pipeline has at home and here as well.  Palm trees and cut outs of previous shows that I've worked on, a ping pong table to use while relaxing the eyes from staring at a computer, and a little tiki hut that has coffee.  No word on when happy hour is, though.

These are the students I teach every night.

Yesterday, we worked on an angry walk cycle.  I thought it would be fun if we went outside the class and get the feel for an angry walk, so I had everyone stomp around angrily, which was fun.  Today it will be a happy strut, and I'll try to get some video footage.

 

I've learned some of the lingo around here that always brings a smile to my face.  Of course, when I use it, everyone erupts into laughter, as if I've come up with something clever.

Matapasiones

 

Matar = to kill, pasion = passion, so a passion killer.  My favourite word hands down.  Used when you see a disaster walking around that inpsires no love whatsoever.  For example, we were filling up the car with gas at a station, and I was telling a story in confusing Spanish, when a guy walked out of the bathroom of the station.  No shirt, gut hanging over his pants, walking with his legs spread as if he just dismounted a horse, pants undone.  As he walked towards his vehicle, he continuously tried to fasten his belt, but it was to no avail.  I stopped mid sentence in my story and just started laughing, blurting out "matapasiones!" as the other two in our car turned to enjoy the moment.  Bobby - 1, that guy - 0.

Colombianada

When someone is doing something really dumb, but it's common enough among the people to see it regularly.  I didn't take a pic, but borrow this one from the net.  I saw a guy pissing on the side of the road while driving into work with Gonzalo.  With his window open, Gonzalo pointed the guy out and said "Colombianada," and we both had a laugh while the guy was holding his unit.  I found out that if the cops catch you, you get thrown in jail for 4 hours.  Gonzalo told me.  I swear.

Parcero

I read the direct translation and it refers to a "bed buddy," although here it is common to use it like "dude."  The other morning I came into work and exclaimed "Buenos dias, Parceros!"  Instant hero.

Paisa

This is very local to Medellín, as far as I know.  It's kinda like "homeboy" or "bro" and is very common to hear.  The beer that I've been drinking is named Paisa, but Gonzalo refers to it as Pilsen.  Maybe when something is named something cool, it's not cool to use that term.

Bacano, Chevere

Both of these are slang for "cool" and I don't use them yet.  I find them both kind of weird, since Vaca is cow (the letter b and v both sound the same in Spanish) and Chevere reminds me of Cheval, French for horse.  Perhaps yelling out barnyard animals is a trend in South America, and I'll try to get this started in the North. 

There are a few more, but I can't remember them right now.  I'm sure that by the end of the trip, I'll have a few more to add.

A man about town

Over the weekend, I had a great opportunity to relax, and it was much needed.  I've been working 12 hour days  - 8 to get my work done and then 4 more teaching. Only the past two days have really felt longer than the others.  What I have really enjoyed is coming back to the hotel to watch Copa America, the largest soccer tournament including only the Americas.  I don't know if Canada can qualify for it, but I know that they are lacking in ability to do so.  It seems funny to me, since we are such a melting pot of many (soccer fanatical) countries, we should be able to stir up 11 decent players.  I know of a goalie (Luch, not me), so now all we need is a few more.  Of course, my intel tells me that the problem here is our lack of development over the age of 14.  It's about time we hire Guus Hiddink or some internationally renowned coach, to come here and share his wisdom from the top down, so we can build from the bottom up.

This is the world's biggest and most likely slowest foosball game ever.  I wanted to record a goal on film, but the mall would have closed by then.  If you'd like to see this in action (hint: feels like slow motion), click here.

The malls here are huge, and here's an attempt at depicting just how massive they get.

There are 4 full floors and another half floor.  Yes, it has a retractable roof.  And yes, this is exactly what they should transform the Rogers Centre into - it's a beauty.  There is another hallway exactly like this one, to the right.  So from the top it would look like two leaves from an apple. I think what impresses me quite a bit is that most of the stores are decent stores.  You don't get suckered by having 3 engraving stores or some junk like that included in the mall.

This is the company Mandy starts working for on Monday, Rowenta.  Specifically Rowenta Beauty, but it's nice to see a little global representation. 

Here is how I spent my lunch break yesterday...playing a flight simulator.  Since Santiago is the IT guy and also loves planes, he wanted to see if I could virtually land at this crazy airport in the centre of Medellín.  There are buildings everywhere, the whole city is surrounded by mountains and there is a hill just before you get to the runway, so it's pretty challenging.  Armed with Cessna 172 (which is what I fly at home), I had a very good landing.  I had to go around once though, because Santiago felt I was too high.  Given that the runway was very long, I was confident I could have still made the landing safely.  Just sayin...

When I arrived back at my hotel, this was waiting for me.  Two little desserts on top of some kind of drink.  That's gotta be safe to consume, right?  The same sort of thing was sitting here yesterday, but I avoided it in case there was a party in my room while I was gone and I wasn't invited.  Turns out the staff just enjoy giving you a little something to wind down the day.  It was pretty good!

And just in case it was actually poisoned, I figured everyone's favourite Pringles cousin, Mister Potato could help wash it down.  They were also better than I had expected.

Hey Big Ass!

I've been reading about Colombian cuisine and wanted to take full part in it.  The bandeja paisa is the most common, seen here:

Nothing too crazy, aside from a generally filling plate.  I think that  the long, yellowish thing is Yucca or a plantain, but I can't be sure.  It's pretty good, either way.  The meat on this dish is fried pork ribs, but it all tastes like bacony goodness.

Next up, everyone's favourite appetizer: arepas. Some sort of flattened dough-like vessel for carrying butter or guacamole.  These are sometimes served alongside maduros (plantains, which I'm a sucker for), or these other things that I can't find online right now.  They taste like bacon and flour or something mixed together and fried.  For now, here are arepas:

For dessert, I had this delicious dish called Brevas con queso, which is something special.  It's a nice light dessert, shared by those at the table. With a spoon, you hack off a little piece of the breva - which is a fruit only available in Colombia.  Then, you spoon a little bit of that cheese and put it all together with the caramel - Argentina calls it dulce de leche, Chile calls it manjar, the Colombians call it arequipe.  No matter the name, it's delicious.  The real nice thing about it is that it is a pretty small portion, so you only get a couple bites.  The magic is that you share it with your friends at the table.

So all of these are delicious, and I've had some other pretty good stuff, but what really has me intrigued are hornigas culonas.  Translation:  Big Ass Ants.  I'm serious.  I'll spare you the details, but the short version is that I'm interested in this.  I've asked around and the only person that I know has tried them is my man Gonzalo...of course!  He tells me that they are delicious, but they are found in the north near Santander.  We are not close to this, but he thinks he might know where we can get some in Medellín.  So I'm pumped!

How is this title appropriate?  Yesterday I was walking with Santiago and his IT assistant, Diana.  She was walking ahead of me down a hill and I decided to ask her if she had tried hornigas culonas before.  Of course, she didn't hear the "hornigas" part, only the "culonas" part, so she turns and says "what??"  Once I repeated my question, Santiago, who was laughing the whole time, stops me and says "here's what happened" and explains that she only heard the big ass part.  Clearly, I won't be making too many friends on this trip.

Cocorná

Cocorná is in the middle of the mountains.  How people ever settled here is beyond me, unless they were dropped from the sky or swept down the river.  It takes quite a bit of maneuvering to get here, heading up, down, left, right, for about 45 mins.  Then, when you're almost there, a bus is blocking the road, so it's better to simply park somewhere there and start walking.

We called up a lady, the owner of the resort we were headed to, and asked her to pick us up.  Since I saw the little village from afar, I really didn't think it was that far to walk, especially since it was all downhill.  Boy was I wrong.  Once we got to the village, we then proceeded up the mountain, on about a 40+ degree incline.  I really didn't think the Suzuki Vitara had the legs for it.  Speaking of legs, we crammed three adults and a teen in the back seat, with me sitting up front.  Granted, my seat was so far up that my knees were near my chin.

This is the main hut.  Feels very zen inside...until you're watching Colombia's soccer team suck it and lose in Copa America.  I thought that they dominated Peru, but they could never finish.  Hours later, the same could be said about Argentina.

We arrived at about noon, so it was time for breakfast.  Yes, we are dealing with Spanish time here, which is a perfect Saturday.  No rush to get anywhere or do anything.  They suggested we tour the place (with a guide) while they prepared it for us.

In every direction I looked, everything felt far away and peaceful.

Overall, I feel that the air in Medellín is terrific. So fresh.  Here, it felt even more refreshing.

If you chose to stay the night, each cabin was situated far enough from the others that you would have total privacy.

Talk about smart design for a small place.  Just tuck one bed underneath another.

The water trickles down the mountain, into this warm water jacuzzi and cool down pool beside it.

This serene, straight-downhill-on-slippery-and-sometimes-loose-rocks pathway was designed for those of us under six feet.  So if I focused too much on my foot stability and would forget to duck, I'd feel a bunch of brush hit me in the head.  Good thing that this was the beginning of the pathway to serenity.

 

The journey to this place reminded me of my adventure to the blue-green water.  Laurie, if you're reading this, you'll know what I'm talking about.  Basically, it seemed that in order to reach your place of relaxation, they try to exhaust you first.  We would climb rocks and somewhat muddy terrain, back and forth over the current, with the occasional rope to hang onto for support.

This was where our grand trek ended.  Not a very large pool of water by any stretch, but that made it kind of special, too.  It wasn't there for doing laps, rather for refreshment.  Nice cool water.  I asked how deep it was, and they suggested I do a shallow dive with the water already up to my knees.  Using my keen sense of vision and knowing that "shallow dive" is a perspective, I took another couple of steps along some unstable rocks and sort of coasted in gracefully, like a swan performing a dance while courting another.  Ok maybe not, but I can tell you that with my hands outstretched, I crashed right into a rock that was maybe a foot below the surface.  Good thing I coasted in.  

I'm waiting for Santiago to send me a photo where I've covered myself in Guava.  After you jump (cautiously) into the water, you cover and massage yourself in Guava, chill for a few minutes, then jump back in the water and wash yourself off.  You should do a good job of it, otherwise bugs will be all over your delicious skin.  After we did this, my skin felt more suave than ever before.  Velvety, even.

I'm pretty sure I saw this in Nicaragua, but I love these guys.  Talk about looking busy!  Just hustling back and forth, tearing trees apart one leaf at a time.  Gonzalo was telling that they can pretty much take down a tree in short order.

 This guy was about the size of my hand.  I asked Gonzalo if it bites.  He figured it would. Then I asked if it was venomous.  He said no, most likely not.  Then I moved in about 4 inches away and took the picture.  Safety first, kids.  Well, kind of.

Here's where we stopped for another splash in a natural pool.  Well, I'm pretty sure the slide wasn't natural, but it was pretty fun.  You pick up speed pretty quick.  I flew off the end of it and was in mid-air halfway across the pool.  For a split second, I thought I was going to hit the concrete at the end of pool.  This is Gonzalo, going heels over head.

If you see a vehicle with nobody in it, it's totally cool to just jump right in and take photos.  At least that's the impression I got from Gonzalo.