The things they carried

Last night I saw hammocks, incense, sunglasses, DVDs, ponchos, watches, various assortments of hats, 1-meter long crucifixes and the piez de resistance: not one, but two stuffed deer heads. I admit, I didn't think anything of it until I saw the last two but on holiday weekends, you see a lot more than the average cigarette vendor has to sell on the street. We observed all of this from our streetside table at Pico de Botella, one of my favorite Rumba stops on 'La 70.'

The availability provided by streetside vendors is pretty amazing as it is. You can buy a beer for a dollar and walk just about anywhere in the city with it, no problem. My personal favorites are the bags of pre-sliced fruit, of which the vendors will add salt and lime juice for a delicious snack; 75 cents for a bag of mango. Some might get a little flustered by the constant bombardment of items and services, but the locals are pretty receptive to a firm "no", and really only frequent the touristy areas. It's pretty hard to turn down a $1 shoe shine from a grinning Costeño who will make fun your scuffed shoes til you finally give in.

Bicentennial, Man

Colombia turned 200 on Tuesday, meaning that Bicentennial celebrations were ubiquitous throughout the country. As a music guy, I was delighted to hear that 1,000 different concerts throughout the country were being held at the same time in honor of the celebration. Federico showed his patriotism by getting the names of Colombia's founding fathers buzzed into his hair:

We then headed off to the nearby city of Rio Negro to catch a dance performance. I had previously known Rio Negro for only Medellín's international airport, only passing through the city. I was pleasantly surprised to see elements of a folksy town about Rio Negro. While not as charming as nearby Marinilla or Rio Claro, having the celebration in a nice-looking town square certainly did it for me. Federico's girlfriend is part of a dance group in called, "The Folklore Ballerinas of Antioquia" and they were good. 

 

They performed dances from each of Colombia's different regions, showcasing the amount of great cultural diversity that exists here. My favorite was the 'Montanero' dance from this region, where it looks like the dancers are doing a spastic version of the "Funky Chicken." (Federico later informed me that yes, they are supposed to imitate chickens and no, they were not taking themselves seriously). Fede was up to more tomfoolery as on our way back he pointed out the "Norte America" letters that sit above a Medellín hill, Hollywood-style. "It's because we like the USA so much," he joked. We had another performance obligation that was really cool, an a capella show at a local church. It turned into a reunion of many Medellín friends I hadn't seen for a while. We grabbed a few tables at Punta Arena on la 70 after the show and laughed the night away.

Poetry Slam at Hill of the Flyer

Our apartment is 2 blocks from Cerro El Volador (Hill of the Flyer), prompting us to head up there whenever we can for a little exercise and the best views of the city. The last time we went up, we had a little dialogue with a security guard who was surprised, not just to see gringos who can hold a Spanish conversation, but to see gringos at all up there. He told us there used to be a museum at the top and agreed that with only a few thousand dollars, the City could fix up El Volador to be as big of a tourist attraction as its little brother Cerro Nutibara and Pueblito Paisa:



On our way up, we were passed by a tourist bus, prompting us to wonder if that security guard had gone straight to City Hall and proclaimed: "see, I told you gringos would like this place, let's get cracking on the tourist developments!" I also saw tents set up at the summit, flanked by an ample crowd and an unusual amount of kite flyers jockeying for the best winds. The crowd was there for the 9th Annual International Poetry Gathering. The gentleman who happened to be reading had a peculiar, but eloquent Spanish prose, which later turned out to be Sri Lankan. He read mostly in Spanish but then switched to English, citing the need to convey some of his poems in their original format. The audience was less receptive to the English poems but Brent and I made sure to clap extra loud, showing that someone was listening closely. Though not big poetry fans, we enjoyed seeing that many people at El Volador and I can expect that El Volador will see a dramatic renovation in the not-too-distant future.

A Culture of Troubadours

It seems that everywhere I've gone this week, I've encountered elderly men singing. It's not uncommon in Medellín for older men to spontaneously break into song. Whether it be a janitor humming along to an old vallenato number or a father strolling along in the park singing to his daughter, these older Paisas seem capable of tapping into the numerous latin ballads floating in the air and broadcasting them to the those around them, if only for a few seconds.

It's commonplace for many of these same older men to be seen with one headphone on their ear, the other dangling around their neck. I had always assumed that like the men who wear these at sporting events, these Colombians were tuning in to keep in touch with the gambling line. This myth was refuted today when I was talking to a friend's father who suddenly interrupted the dialogue with a whimsical: "y los ojos siempre mostran la verdadero amor" to which he nodded in my direction, expecting me to recognize this classic love song. It seems that these older Colombians through electronic apparatus or reminiscing to their glory days keep their spirits high by singing classic melodies throughout the day. For the uninformed observer, this is a fascinating experience that will continue to make me smile whenever I hear it.

Hilltop Getaway

Last night we headed out to the pueblo of San Antonio De Prado to celebrate a friend's birthday at their 'finca.' A finca is technically a small private coffee farm, but really means a weekend getaway cabin somewhere in the hills. Any Colombian family with more than one property always owns at least one of these and yes, some actually do make their own coffee.

Brent and I were happy to play the gringo card in getting there, affording us two seats in our friend's Pathfinder only because we might have gotten lost taking the bus. The car ride itself turned out to be a bit of an adventure. Though it's only a few Km out of Medellín, San Antonio de Prado is perched on a hilltop, with the only arterial in town twisting and turning through a maze of side streets. We went through the process of continually having to back up to allow other cars to pass through and nearly being sideswiped by fearless teens careening down back alleys on their dirtbikes. One side street we took had about a 15% grade, causing our tires to slip and skid before we kicked it into 4 Wheel Drive.

Arriving at the finca we had a good old-fashioned asado bbq; I'm always amazed at how much better people down here can barbecue their meat than me. (or maybe they are just buying the better stuff). A bit of tequila and we partied most of the night, only to wake up to a bright and sunny hillside masterpiece of which I of course, forgot my camera. I kicked myself again for forgetting as a train of neighbors on horseback, sipping coffee and blasting vallenato from a radio strapped to one of the horses paraded by and waved. I suppose this only means I'll have to head back to San Antonio de Prado with camera in hand, until then, I leave you with the central church, oddly, but beautifully designed for how it sits on the hillside.