Coffee Talk

It seems that putting milk in your coffee is an issue that Colombians see in black and white. Whenever I go to a pasteleria to get a pastel (sweet pastry thing) and a cup of coffee, the only choices I have are cafe tinto (black coffee with zero milk) or cafe con leche (a mixture of about 1 part coffee to 3 parts milk; it turns a murky whitish color.) There doesn't seem to be any room in their minds for shades of brown.

Today I found a great pasteleria on a quiet street across from a banyon tree. The display of pasteles underneath their glass counter looked extensive. As I ordered a pastel de guayaba and a cup of coffee, I tried explaining that I'd like some kind of reasonable quantity of milk in the coffee, like 95% coffee and 5% milk. At that moment the smile on the face of the woman behind the counter twisted into an expression that indicated that she had just swallowed a centipede. I had to leave.

There actually are other things about the coffee in Colombia that torment me more than the disparity in quantities of milk they put in it. Even though some of the best coffee in the world is produced in Colombia, almost everyone who drinks coffee here, drinks instant coffee. I'm not sure why this is, but I think it's to save money. Even though processed foodstuffs are disproportionately expensive here, a month's supply of powdered, flavorless coffee mix is slightly cheaper than a month's supply of freshly roasted, locally harvested, delicious, real coffee. I think there's something about the culture here that makes people value the savings of a few measly pesos above the immense pleasure of drinking real coffee.

Airport Walk

The other thing I did yesterday was walk from Florida Nueva, which is the neighborhood where I live, to Enrique Olaya Herrera Airport, which is 8km away according to Google maps. I had seen this Youtube video of things happening at the airport and I ferreted out that it had been filmed from a sports complex to the Southwest of the runway, off Carrera 70. I began walking.

On the way there I saw these fruits.

And I saw this old motorcycle.

And I saw this old minivan/pickup truck.

I arrived at the sports complex and climbed up several rows of bleacher seats. The view I had was exactly like that of the person who filmed this video, which is a good one; you can watch airplanes take off and circle around the valley and land.

Then I walked to the south end of the Airport and found a plant shop and some big festival going on (probably because of El Dia de San Juan.)

I ate a cup of papitas (tiny fried potatoes.)

And the airplanes flew right over our heads.

Continuing Further

There isn't much purpose to this post other than to continue the pattern of new posts. But there are a few things that have happened.

I've been hired by a small English Language Institute. So far they've given me 10 hours of work per week, but if they like the way I teach, they'll give me more hours– up to a maximum of 30 per week. They pay $10,000 COP per hour which is the lowest wage I've heard of for teaching English in Medellín. The cost of living a very austere lifestyle here is about $1,200,000 COP per month. There are teachers who work full time at this institute and I think either they get paid more or else they know something about thrifty living that I don't. Anyway, I think this job serves as a step in the right direction. And I haven't forgotten that the whole reason why I'm teaching English (besides the fact that sometimes teaching can almost be sort of fun) is to allow for things to happen like these that follow:

I saw a guy with a duck.

For some reason, the process of preparing lesson plans tortures me. Although it has happened and no real consequences followed, running out of material while teaching a class and having no idea what to do is a scenario that plays out in my mind like a nightmare. While I was paralyzed with fear, starring at my Teachers' Edition English Language Book the other day, this moth landed right on my windowsill and stayed there while I took a photo of it. I found it reassuring.

I think the trick to avoiding running out of material while teaching a class is to bring lots of photocopies– even if they aren't relevant to the lesson. It will keep students occupied and give the teacher the appearance that she or he knows what she or he is doing. I just found out that my English Language Institute has neither a photocopier nor a printer. I suppose these are things the teachers are expected to pay for at copy centers out of their own meagre salaries. I discovered this today, which is El Dia de San Juan, and all the shops are closed for the holiday. I hope I can find one that's open early enough for me to make copies for my 6am class tomorrow!

This guy was playing some great music in his shop so I asked him what it was and he wrote it down for me on a piece of paper and gave it to me. I immediately lost it.

They call these bonanos verdes. They can be used for making patacones.

First you slice them.

Then you fry them. I think they're actually supposed to be deep fried, but my room mate insisted that I do it this way. I didn't document the next step, which is to smoosh them.

Then you put them in this bowl of salt water with smooshed garlic. I don't know why ours is yellow– maybe some turmeric got in there.

Then you fry them again. Mine fell apart, and I think that's because the pan-frying I did earlier didn't cook them as thoroughly as deep frying would have. Also, these had a powerfully astringent taste that I think deep frying would have removed. I'll have to wait til my room mate isn't around some time so I can try deep frying some patacones.

I'm setting my alarm for 4:30 am so I can put on my English-teaching costume, make photo copies, and walk to the language institute by 6:00. I know there are a lot of people who teach English and find it easy and stress free. I could really use another visit from a moth.

Moved into Apartment

Now that I had ostensibly found work, I sought a place to live. I had been told to look for apartments around the Laureles Estadio neighborhood. It's close to public transportation, the terrain is flat– which makes walking around much easier, and the locals generally describe Laureles Estadio as tranquilo. For three consecutive days I walked around the neighborhood looking for signs in windows indicating that an apartment was available for rent.

I called the phone numbers in the ads and went to view apartments. I met with this agent from Santa Fe Real Estate, Guillermo. Unfortunately this photo doesn't capture his perpetual sneer.

While taking me for a tour of apartments, Guillermo tried at great length to evade me. He darted across 4 lanes of traffic without warning, he hopped onto a moving bus that a friend of his operates and whose fare he didn't have to pay (I managed to chase after Guillermo across the 4 lanes of traffic and catch the moving bus. But I had to pay the fare.) Before long I realized that I was being led on a wild goose chase. Guillermo didn't know the prices of any of the apartments, they weren't the same as the one's where I had seen signs displayed (few of them were even anywhere near the area where I was looking), and many of them were 3 and 4 bedroom apartments– not at all what I was looking for. So I told Guillermo that enough was enough and I'd call him tomorrow. Guillermo only shrugged (still while sneering.)

The next day, instead of calling Guillermo, I responded to this ad I'd seen:

I thought apartaestudio meant "studio apartment," but upon visiting the place I found out that what's being advertised is a bedroom in an apartment where two other people live. The apartment is in the Nueva Florida neighborhood (contained within Laureles Estadio,) it has 3 bedrooms, it's rented in the name of 26-year-old university student, Carlos, and it's also inhabited by 54-year-old Darrio, who rents a room, and 8-month-old labrador/greyhound mix, Lupe, who lives rent free. I agreed to move in.

Although 500,000 Colombian Pesos is an awful lot to pay, especially on an English teacher's salary– it's cheaper than staying in a hostel and much more luxurious. Also, there's nothing that even resembles a lease agreement here, so if next month I find something better, I'm not tied down. 

On Saturday it rained and I watched from the Balcony.

This is Carlos. In the last two days he built a wall around the apartment's dining area out of styrofoam, pvc pipe, and construction paper. Then he moved his bedroom into it and now he sleeps there. It reminds me of the informal settlements on the hills surrounding Medellín. I joked that the Metrocable, which was built to service the informal settlements, should have a station for his new room.

I learned that the reason he built and moved into this informal settlement was to make his former bedroom available for another roommate to move into– which she did last night. I'm not sure what her name is, I don't have a photo of her, but she's about middle age and I've heard her called Doña (Madame.) I am interested to see how well it's going to work having 4 people and a dog live in a 3 bedroom apartment...

This is Lupe. This morning she was hit by a car and now she's at a clinic. I don't understand much about her situation, but I'm told that she was almost killed. I hope she recovers soon!

Despite all the strange things involved with living in this apartment, knowing local Colombians offers a lot of advantages. There are connections to jobs (discussed below), and on Saturday night I was introduced to a number of Carlos' friends. One of them is a structural engineer. He drew pictures and explained how to design buildings that can withstand earthquakes and landslides.

Meanwhile my employment situation is ambiguous but hopeful. The institute that sends teachers to do 1-on-1 lessons says that they're willing only to give me substitute teaching opportunities; if a full-time teacher cancels, I'll be given maybe an hour's notice to prepare a lesson and travel to the client's residence. Then my effectiveness in teaching the lesson will be evaluated by the same criteria as the full-time teachers who have as much as a week's notice to teach a class. I'll have my work cut out for me!

I also found another English language institute in this neighborhood. Coincidentally a friend of a friend of Darrio, my new roommate, owns the chain of schools that this place belongs to, so yesterday I showed up with my hoja de vida (page of life; curriculum vitae) and later that day I assisted in teaching a group class on a volunteer basis. Then this morning I was called and told to come for an interview tomorrow.

Back in Medellín after Another Vacation

On Thursday morning (March 1st; almost two weeks ago) I took a bus for 2 hours up to Guatapé, which is a tiny town on a hydro-electric reservoir. They have these creepy garbage cans:

They also have brightly colored things:

Then the following Wednesday (March 7th) I had job training with an English language institute in Medellín. The way they work is that teachers meet clients at their homes or offices and teach 1 on 1 lessons for 90 minutes each. I don't have a work visa, so if they pay me, it'll be under-the-table. I hope they help me to get a work visa eventually. In any case, the beginning of work in Medellín is something that I interpret to mean that I shall live in this city for about a year. I began looking for apartments shortly thereafter...