That's what I get

Last Thursday I went out with a group of French kids and their Colombian friends to a club that was offering a free bottle of Colombian booze Aguardiente to every group of five people. As you might imagine, after a pre-party of rum and coke, this turned into a ridiculous evening of dancing and fighting. Well, the dancing part was fun, but then at like 3am when we left, some guys got into a fight. Supposedly over a bottle of whiskey. One guy got his head kicked against a light pole, and the police intervened with their helmets, which was really useful. Fortunately I was not involved at all, but it sure cast a pall on the evening. I ended up going to sleep at 4:30am then getting up at 8:30 the next morning, which was really stupid in retrospect, and unpleasant during the interview that afternoon. And then I was in a crappy mood for the rest of the weekend.

The five hour meeting this morning didn't help much either, and neither has the busted wireless router that I'm going to have to try to get replaced tomorrow. I'm not terribly confident in the warranty they gave me, but we'll see how it goes. It's times like this that I'm annoyed at the Third World.

But then again, all the pollution makes for beautiful sunsets. See below for a view out our window. I like how the building matches the sky.

please send me a phone

My phone was stolen last week. It was sitting on a table near the door of the cool cafe near the apartment, and I was sitting facing the door. These three scruffy ruffians came waltzing in brandishing various papers, and explaining how they were in the military or I don't know what. Marguerite was sitting next to me and didn't understand a thing. The guys walked to where I was sitting, pointed vigorously at the papers, which were oh-so-strategically placed directly over my phone (unbeknownst to me). After a few more seconds of gibberish they walked out and disappeared. I of course didn't notice anything wrong until like an hour later, and then I was just happy that they hadn't taken off with my computer, which was also sitting on the table.

The phone thing is more of an inconvenience than anything else, I lost a few phone numbers and reminders of stuff I had to do, but the worst part of the whole fiasco is that the guys almost got caught. An hour or two after their daring escape they walked by on the other side of the street, and the girls at the cafe called the police. Olivier went walking after them and told a guard with a big, nasty gun what had happened. The security dudes at the apartment complex eventually got them and took them to the cafe to see if anyone could identify them.

At this point you're probably thinking I skipped over and took my phone back, carefully punching each of the guys in the head in my typical vigilante style. Unfortnately, this is not what happened. They ended up taking them to the bakery across the street, not the cafe I was sitting in, and since no one at the bakery had had their phone stolen by these bastards they let them go.

Thus I have now been without an alarm clock for nearly a week. Normally this would be a time for rejoicing but today I almost didn't finish preparing my class because I woke up too late. But of course, when I got to school I found out there was a semi-mandatory conference by some Columbia University professor at the same time and half my students weren't in class. I needed a coffee and something to eat, and since people weren't coming anyway I ajourned the class to the sunny cafe-terrace on the roof of the library. There my students got to enjoy a lovely view of the city, and me struggling in their language. I'm sure I lost all credibility this morning.

But as they say, oh well.

MTV Cribs comes to Bogota

The kitchen:



The entry hall. Yes, it's a two-story apartment, and we live like kings. Well, not really, the point is though that I won't ever have a nicer place than this unless I really score a sweet gig in the next decade or two.



My room:


Yes, those are pandas. When you're buying a comforter for like $15 you don't get much choice in patterns. You'd think it'd be cheaper though just to sell solid-color blankets.



The view out my window. See the soldiers? They're there to protect me! It's very comforting ... until you notice that they're like 18 and carrying automatic weapons in a residential neighborhood. Granted, I took this a few weeks ago the day before the presidential inaugeration. But still, it's weird.



The view from the living room. In the words of the indomitable Grandmaster Flash, "It's like a jungle sometimes
It makes me wonder how I keep from goin' under."



The view at night from the balcony. Earlier in the evening the building pulses with constantly changing colors. It's pretty cool looking, but pretty stupid when you think about it.

extreme sports weekend

Just to make you all jealous, I just thought I'd mention that I'm in San Gil, the Colombian capital of extreme sports, or something like that. Rafting yesterday, spelunking and rappelling today, and paragliding tomorrow. Danced salsa till 3am last night. Oh yeah, and it's a three day weekend. So how's work these days?

Photos soon.

mmm good

So remember how Olivier and I were supposed to go to dinner with some famous writer we randomly met? Well, we did, and it was faaaabulous. Somewhere in the mountains overlooking Bogota we essentially crashed this guy's birthday party at some fancy-schmancy restaurant with an amazing view of the city. It could have been Diamand Peak in San Francisco or Montmartre in Paris. Yes, we were invited, but since we'd only met him the day before it was a little odd to be hanging out with his friends, some of whom dated back to when he was 18 years old, or, like us, had met him randomly the day before.

The wine ... oh god, it was so good. Some great Spanish stuff, none of that sugary BS Spanish wine usually is. And It just kept flowing. The service was such that when you were taking your last sip the waiter was just on his way over with a new bottle. Yes, between the service and the locale and the view, this was an evening we'll likely never have again in Bogota. Way too classy for a couple of dudes in jeans, sneakers, and suit jackets to pretend we were classy enough.

Actually though, the whole thing was really casual and cool, just a bunch of people who didn't know each other getting tipsy and chatting the night away. Even me! The problem was that there was no food, and Olivier and I had foolishly assumed that since it was a restaurant we would at some point sit down to eat. Instead we just enjoyed glass after glass, and had to stop for a hamburger on the way home to clear away some of the booze.

An important meeting with the directors of the research program of Marguerite and I awaits at 8am. It's now 12:38am. If not for the burger, and the Destiny's Child/Beyonce documentary on TV at the burger place/gas station, I don't think I'd be able to make it. Did all of you know that Destiny's Child broke up and Beyonce went her own way and became the superstar she is today? I sure didn't, but I feel better for knowing it now, though that could just be the wine talking.

Are you ready to rock?!?

Good assimilators that we are, Olivier, Noemie, and I went to a rock bar last night with some French friends from the uni. It was blues night and live music night, and all I can say is that if last night was any indication, Colombians have no soul. I mean, they'll kick my ass at salsa parties or whatever, but blues just wasn't happening. Perhaps it's just my American chauvanism to think that it just can't work in any language but English, preferably American, or maybe these guys weren't representative of the mad Bogota blues scene. In any case, the first band was alright but didn't have much energy.

Then this little old Irish dude missing a few teeth, looking older than his years (thanks 1960s and the hippies!), threw on a badly tuned guitar and belted out some killer standards, with a few crowd pleasers thrown in (or maybe Another Brick in the Wall is actually blues?), and basically had the whole place eating out of his hand.

This tall black cuban dude (ladies you'd have swooned) climbed up on stage and covered Jimi Hendrix to a t. Not very original, but it never hurts to hear Hendrix played competently live.

So yeah, we now have a great rock bar to go to. Getting there is a pain since it's up in the north like everything else, and we're in the center. And last night the main boulevard was kinda slow, so a bunch of taxis just went over to the other side and tempted fate with oncoming traffic. We went like that for probably 10 minutes without problem, passing an ambulance stuck in the traffic on the other side.

Let's see, what else is new ... in the literary cafe Olivier and I like to call home, we randomly met some famous Colombian writer Victor Paz. Olivier says he's pretty well known, all I know is that he's really nice and a total bohemian writer guy, and he invited us to his birthday party tonight. So apparently we'll be schmoozing with the literary elite at some chic restaurant. Good times. More later.

Sigh ...

Why do languages have to be such a pain in the ass? I don't expect to be speaking fluently after three weeks, but it's incredibly frustrating to have a four-hour meeting about setting up our project and being able to contribute a couple of halting, inscrutible (judging by the uncomprehending looks on the faces of all present), simple questions as these guys are giving Marguerite and I a rough overview of some of the basics of Colombian geography and warfare.

When asked what we will doing concretely for our internship and thesis research these dudes didn't really have any details. We're at the planning stage of a multi-year program on migration and development of Colombia. And with her eternal optimism and energy, which is usually contageous but not so much tonight, Marguerite is convinced that this is for the best since it means that we'll be able to have quite a lot to say about what we'll study, and indeed some input in the elaboration of the program itself.

In the end I'm sure it will be fine, these things have a way of working themselves out. But damn, as I was struggling to understand the details of what these guys were saying I was really wishing I'd had more spanish classes. Which reminds me that I should really be writing to the Spanish class guy and asking him why the hell we haven't started yet.

Gnite.

End of the year photos

Pour les français: j'ai oublié de vous envoyer photos du dernier jour à SP, donc maintenant les voici:

I want a language pill for xmas

This week has been incredibly frustrating, but also very cool. I'll start with the good:

First, I finally had what I thought was a decent class. I knew what I wanted to say and how to say it, and I said it. It's funny how adequate preparation does wonders for a class. People were even taking notes! And didn't look totally bored. I need to find random crazy facts about the US for each class, it's great when people are surprised. The downside was that the mix of religion and 9/11 fosters all sorts of conspiracy theories that can get annoying.

Second, we have finally started our real internship. Well, sort of. We had a meeting yesterday with the program heads we'll be working with on our research, and they were all super-competent, knowledgeable, and nice. We left the meeting bouncing with glee, totally motivated, and ready to go out and save the world. For Marguerite and me (yes, that's a correct usage of "xxxxx and me"), the idea is going to be to go meet with the families of people who are working in Spain, before they get back. We'll visit them again a month or two later when everyone is back home and see how things are. This is just one aspect of the project, but the important thing is that we'll be doing something, finally!

On the negative side of things, Spanish has become a real liability. We had to introduce ourselves at the meeting yesterday and I totally froze, nearly dying from embarassment. Of course I had to be the one to speak after Marguerite, who has lived in Latin America, has more experience, and speaks great Spanish. The difference was quite stark.

Two days prior we'd interviewed a lady at the ministry of foreign affairs for about 2 hours. Not only was that exhausting, but when we listened to the recording the next day I realized how many details I'd missed. I've rarely been this frustrated or felt so useless. When I was learning French it didn't matter that much how well I spoke, but in this case decent Spanish is crucial to the work that is supposed to be the capstone of my education. It's a bad time to realize that I haven't ever really learned Spanish. The classes in Paris were such a joke. That said, knowing French has made it possible for me to function in Spanish, and it will only get easier.

This may seem really silly, but a few nights ago I was so excited by the fact that I held a 30 minute conversation with TWO people I'd never met before. It didn't even matter what we talked about, the fact that I could communnicate was exhilarating. Little things like that make it really fun to learn a language. And then days like yesterday make me yearn for the language pill I dreampt up in 2nd grade. It'd be cool if you learn a language in an afternoon, though it would take away all the fun and struggle of the learning process.

But fuck that! Who needs to build character? Chemists and biologists of the world, what the hell are you doing designing cancer drugs? I need to learn Spanish, now!

Which reminds me, I should be practicing verbs instead of writing this. Leave me alone, I'm conjugating!

More photos

Some random street nearby.



Me playing professor.



Me and some peeps at our housewarming party. I only know the girl on the right. Having known us for maybe 10 minutes, her mom was willing to be the co-signer for our apartment. Can you imagine that happening in France or the US?



We don't actually know that many people so we literally invited everyone we could think of, including the barristas at the amazing literary cafe across the street. Excellent espresso, tons of used books in various languages, including the complete works of Trotsky in Spanish, and a great ambiance. It's already my second home, Olivier's too.

A side note: there are a surprising number of adults with braces here. I have no idea why.

The party is just getting started here, and was a great success.



Noemie and Sandrine, under the influence. Sandrine is a French exchange student and one of my students. Actually there were five of my students there that night, so I had to talk with everyone and dance and play DJ so they wouldn't be able to tell the other students what a nerd I actually am.



The aftermath, 3:30am. At 3:15pm, we had only just finished the heavy-duty cleaning.

Some photos

Me and all my worldly possessions (for Colombia) at my parents' place up in Santa Rosa.



This is the whole crew at the hotel we stayed at for the first week. From left to right: Robin, Olivier, Marguerite, and Noemie



This is Marguerite and Noemie getting down on our first night with furniture in the new place. The floors are super-slick so it's either really fun or quite dangerous to go without shoes in this room.



This is the view just out our front door.



Some random mountain nearby.