Bogota 5: Cultural Immersion and the Comfort of Routine

Post date: Oct 2, 2010 5:25:35 PM

10-2-10

Yup, not going to miss my housemates either. The past two nights they have been in the kitchen making an event of cooking Ramen noodles. Apparently they are all teachers. They all bought into the 3 meals/day deal offered by the owner, which seems great at a price of 170,000 pesos/month ($100), except the meal sizes match the way the staff view us; we are all children to them. And these teachers sort of are. To make their Ramen, they heated water in the microwave, then plopped the noodles in to soak. They had clearly followed the instructions to a T. And Ramen preparation is most successfully and joyfully accomplished, apparently, in groups of 4-5 physically mature adults. Note the qualification of mature there. Tonight I saw them again, and maybe it was the previous night’s ego-booster that bolstered their courage, because they took to the electric stove tonight. I think it was the first time these 30 year olds had attempted to cook for themselves. They stood at the stove, turning the knobs to determine which ones started which

The idiosyncrasies of this houseowner’s insanity and hatred toward me are many and varied. This morning I am planning to return the keys and move into my new house (provided she pays me the $30 for the shirt her staff lost or stole), and I do not doubt there will be much drinking and dancing to celebrate my departure. It will be a relief to live where I can feel at home. A liar isn’t the most welcoming sort. Yesterday she told my friend that the reason she busted down the door to her room next to mine is because her granddaughter was locked inside and screaming. Little did she know, my friend was here at the time and knows that there was no little girl involved; the lady locked herself out and could not control her temper. The funny thing is that she then made her son pay for the repairs.

Yesterday, my last day here, I was flustered and not thinking when I was leaving to go to hapkido class. I left my key inside the room after I locked it, and she and the head guy here said there are no backups. That in itself is insanity. Lesson learned. It cost me $10 for a locksmith to pop the lock free- not bad and their shop was only two blocks away, so it wasn’t too rough. The brain buster is the cause of my initial flusteredness- I never leave my dishes in the sink more than 30 minutes anymore. If they need to soak, I bring them into my room to soak because of the owner’s craziness the day I left dishes in the sink to soak overnight my first night here. Four days ago I left my pot and my spoon (literally mine) in the sink to loosen the seared egg while I rushed out to teach a class. When I returned a few hours later, the pot was gone. They leave dishes in there all the time. 24/7 there is a dish from their family in this sink, but mine was now gone. And it didn’t reappear. After 3 days, I posted a note on the kitchen cupboard where all in the house can see it. It requested the return of my shirt and kitchen supplies. The next morning, the note is gone and my pot and spoon reappear, in the same water and crusted egg as three days prior. She had taken it into her room or somewhere for who knows how long just to piss me off. And it worked, and my lack of self-control resulted in my forgetting my key in the room.

No, I’m ready to leave today. Wow, and now she just said that she needs to buy a special cleaner to clean the stove she never wanted me to use. She said this would cost 10 mil. I just “debated” with her over the need for this chemical, since it is already virtually spotless, that a chemical will make it no cleaner, that a kitchen should not have been advertised if it was off-limits, and that I was not the only person using the stove. I asked that she inform me when she returned to watch her clean this stove and supposedly “make it new.”

I do not know if the reason she hates me is because I am me or because I am a gringo. There is clearly prejudice against gringos, as I’ve already mentioned. But, the prejudice does not stop there. I would have thought that a people discriminated against in the United States, the Latin population, would be more welcoming to minorities due to their own experiences of discrimination, but it appears that the majority, the people in power, will always discriminate against the minority races. Here, blacks are a minority, have less power, and have the same “scary and untrustworthy” stereotype still found in areas of the United States.

This just in: my shirt was just returned to me! They said it was under some other tenant’s bed all this time. They were supposed to look for it weeks ago, but I guess the real threat of losing 60mil was too much. I’m relieved. The story is just too good to put into words. Thank god for conflict. My life is anything but boring because of it.

Back to discrimination. I had noticed a pattern I did not expect, so I asked some of my students about it. “There are a lot of women working in Colombia. Is this out of financial necessity or an expression of women’s rights and power?” They said it was both, and the story sounds similar to the women’s movement in the mid 20^th century, except the women’s revolution of Colombia began in the 70s and 80s. As in the U.S., traditional stay-at-home women are more frequently found in rural areas. Today, men still hate that women are free like this, but women continue to occupy positions of power within the government and financial institutions.

Most of the time I’m meeting with my students it doesn’t feel like teaching. I’ve had terrific conversations with each (well, maybe not the one who speaks virtually no English)… but here’s the schedule and details of my teaching week:

Monday: Up at 5:30 am, whip up some Quaker oats and raisins, out the door by 6am, catch the “Americas/Pte Aranda” buseta 5 blocks away after a 1-10 minute wait on the corner outside a panaderia that makes some great bread. Ten minute ride to Pte Aranda, where I wait 5 minutes for my “Purina/Mosquera” buseta. It’s a nerve-wracking stop-and-go one hour ride to Nestle-Purina, the company where my first two students work. They manufacture pet food here. The road to Purina passes through a region thick with metal-working and repair shops. It’s blue collar area where the brick buildings and sidewalks are slanted and crumbling, and where donkeys pull carts with a frown like Eyore.

Beyond this little village is a rural area that you would recognize with your eyes closed. The air is purer and the sound is softer. At Purina, I wait to pass the first white gate to the guard shack. The gate beeps when the magnetic seal releases. Two steps in, I wait at a tinted window until the security guard inside says something I assume to mean either, “Document please,” or “Who are you here to see?” They know me by now, but I still must present my passport everytime. This is a common phenomenon. Colombia’s security is second to none. You find guards EVERYWHERE. Once my passport is returned, I wait for the second door’s magnetic beep, then I am escorted by a guard to the 3^rd door in the guard shack, which again beeps, signaling the magnetic release. I raise my eyebrows in silence to signify my incomprehension (and lack of interest in, really) of their Spanish small talk. 50% of the time they escort me to the main office building, which also must be unlocked with a magnetic security card scanned in front of a plate beside the door. Finally inside the building, a process that takes 5-10 minutes, partly depending on whether or not my student has arrived (I must wait in the guard shack until he pulls in), I wait in the reception area until my Purina Lead Controller is ready.

We greet, he offers me a coffee from the Nestle coffee maker, and I always take a cup of “Tradicional.” Americans would be shocked to hear Colombians drink 10-20 cups of coffee a day, but they don’t realize that the cups aren’t fist-full mugs, they are little 4-6 oz. mini cups. The coffee is decent. I never drink more than 3 cups, and only on the weekdays because each of my classes begin at 7am or before. And it’s free. That goes a long way.

Inside his office of a cornered desk and a table with two chairs, with a wall-window viewing the silos and manufacturing plant of Purina outside, we sit at the table and commence the class. I start up my netbook and pull up Breakingnewsenglish.com or a CNN article and last class’ notes. We haven’t touched the textbook in the one month we’ve been working together. Usually we ended up just talking. This student is clearly a financial guy. He’s smooth, reserved, patient, and controlled. I imagine him with a wild woman, someone who loosens him up. We’ve enjoyed conversations about the history of trains in Colombia, the environmental responsibility practices required by the government and Purina, and, most recently, the culture of holiday traditions in the U.S. and Colombia. I explained to him the humor of a David Letterman youtube.com clip of “Top Ten Signs Your Family is Nuts,” posted around Thanksgiving a couple years ago. It’s odd when you hear something hilarious, try to explain the humor to someone from another culture and language, and they just smile to appease your obvious appreciation of the humor, not because they too find it funny. Odd.

I recently began teaching another student at Purina immediately after my Controller. This student is the Supply Chain Director (or some title like that). He’s a young, hyper, enthusiastic guy who is fanatical about economics and all things business. He clearly knows his stuff. We had a great talk about how supermarkets price their items, including a contrast/comparison between American and Colombian styles of marketing. With both students at Purina I am reminded of my experience at Auburn Gear and the manufacturing world. It seems I can find something in common to talk about with anyone. Our last class together I helped him interpret an email from the Swiss headquarters about some big Nestle-Purina guy’s interpretations and predictions of the corn and seed markets, which highly impact not only the costs of human and pet food, but the world economy in general. It was fascinating. Right now the demand for corn and soybeans and stuff is exceeding the supply, but for some reason farmers aren’t producing more. The pattern has been that prices must increase sufficiently to entice more farmers to increase production, and so he expects the prices to increase even further. He also drew information from global weather and regional agricultural conditions like in South America, the Black Sea, and more. Our world economy is all tied up to all the world’s land. It’s astounding how intertwined everything is. It’s the same story with the development of a nation from 2^nd world to 1^st world, as is the case with Colombia. All of Colombia’s problems are connected to one another, which makes governing a chore when resources are finite. Guerillas affect poverty, which affects crime and drugs, which affect the culture and the government, which affect the schools and transportation systems and everything, which affects small businesses, which affects the economy, which affects the national reputation, which affects tourism and global economic power… How does a nation grow? It’s amazing. One recurring theme I hear about is how the ruler-oppressed dynamic has not been shaken since the colonial days, even after Bolivar freed Colombia from Spain’s rule. The master-slave mentality is not easily shaken. We in the U.S. can see that.

After 2.5 hours of teaching, I head home via another 1.25 hours of nauseating busses. I’m trying to maintain a 3 days per week, 11 am Spanish lesson with Vicky, but transportation and various work obligations are making that plan 33% successful. It will improve.

From 12:30-2pm on Monday I teach at Ecopetrol, the leading oil exploration and production company in Colombia. This building is 7 blocks from me, right across from Parque Nacional, where I teach Hapkido on Saturday and Sunday. I walk. Nice. Ecopatrol, you just walk in the front doors. The atmosphere is quite casual from top to bottom. I walk through the airport-style metal scanner, exchange my passport for my magnetic door key, nod and smile at the security guard who looks as cotton-headed as an infant, let him peek inside my bag at my textbooks, which I think is just so that he appears to be working on the security cameras, then beep through the doors, take the elevator up to the classroom where I teach three students in unknown areas of business. I think one is in HR. The one girl calls me “Mr. Gary.” They’re all in their mid-late 30s. We actually follow the book in this class, and these students are a breeze. Very intelligent and chatty. The one guy in the class is asking that I teach them bad words. He gave examples from his own experience why such info is important. I agreed, but one of the students said, “No, Mr. Gary,” and smirked at the guy. I offered to send this student an email in agreement that he return the favor with a list of Spanish bad words. I did explain to the class the importance of properly pronouncing the word “focus” because they were pronouncing the “o” with a “u” sound. They appreciated that. It’s funny to be working with such a high profile company and hearing them talk about office politics. It’s truly a breach of confidentiality, but I don’t think confidentiality is such a big deal here. Information control is less supervised and enforced, it seems, as gun and violence control. One step at a time. One banker I met here spoke of how easily one’s personal information can be accessed and abused. She was shocked at how it compares to the measures implemented in Germany and England.

I break after 2pm, eat some lunch, do some internet stuff. Errands.

M-F from 6-8 pm I teach a 30 year old English. Attempt to, anyhow. After 3 weeks, he still hasn’t learned the two “th” sounds and continually confuses his “I”s and “e”s and “a”s. This guy makes me work. He’s entertaining though, in spite of his learning disabilities (I can’t be THAT bad a teacher!), and part of this is due to the flamboyant bitchiness stemming from his apparent homo or bi sexuality. He’s very polite and professional, very passionate. He buys repossessed cars and homes, resells them, and apparently does some kinda legal work. His dream is to be a millionaire, and he showed me the pictures of his dreams/ambitions taped to the mirror in is bathroom. He says he wants to learn English no matter the time or cost, in part, because he wants to travel to London. Once or twice a week he offers me a pastry. His favorite food is capybara, which is a rodent-family, beaver-like, swamp-abiding animal native to Brazil that has invaded the swamps of the Cajun U.S. I saw them in a swamp when I was in New Orleans. Another friend says it’s delicious also. It’s the stigma of rats that attaches itself to the capybara. I can’t wait to try it. My student says he will show my friend and I a place in town to eat it. I bet it’s expensive here. In the U.S. it’s eaten by some, but it’s probably dirt cheap due to its reputation. Anyways, this guy offered to rent his room to me for 200,000 pesos or $100/month, but it just seems like work to keep up with his dramatism and requests for English. Plus, it might complicate our relationship. What I appreciate is his dedication; he has cancelled class less than any other student. I often ride my motorcycle, illegally, to his apartment since it’s only 20 blocks away and police do not have checkpoints along this route.

Getting home at 8:30pm, it’s time for dinner, time to finish important emails, and relax before bed. My new place will have a tv. That could be trouble.

Tuesday. Up by 6am at the latest. Wait up to 20 minutes for my “Aeropuerto/Fontibon/Cll26” buseta at the same corner as always. Yesterday I saw a journalist and cameraman reporting on the massive pothole in the street on that corner. This ride leads through a modern, developing, high-construction area of major businesses. It’s 20 minutes to my stop and a five minute speedwalk to ANH, the governmental agency that assigns all of the oil exploration and production contracts in Colombia. ANH was replaced Ecopatrol in this function 6 years ago and since then has increased its contracts per year 10 fold. It’s apparent why. The culture difference between Ecopetrol and ANH is like night and day. ANH is A-type personality and very competitive. I like their efficiency. The security measures are stricter than Ecopetrol’s. The building is very modern. It uses geo-thermal energy, I believe, and its tables are coated with a special material to amplify natural sunlight, thereby reducing electricity demands. This class is a good mix of bookwork and fun discussions about successful organizations, brands, travel, relationships, and motorcycles. These are high profile women in their mid 40s but we are able to laugh together all the same. I find that I am perfectly comfortable in these ultra-professional, sterile offices, but I am sure I bring a roughness that I some people would just call rude. Some redneck nature cannot and should not discarded. I’ll always be ready for barefoot mudstomping on the riverbank.

After my two ANH students, I happily hop like a pro onto my “Unicentro” bus. Happily, that is, because I know exactly where it goes, and it goes two blocks from my house. I hope to use the time before my Tuesday 12:30 class at Ecopetrol to study Spanish again. Yeah, it’s the same Ecopetrol group as Monday. From 6-8pm it’s the same student also, of course.

I am using Tuesday, 10am as a day to makeup missed classes at Purina. My first day attempting to make for Mosquera, Purina’s town, from ANH was a complete success. That shocked the heck out of me. Some things do go smoothly for me, at times. I am not the sole target of Murphy’s Law.

Wednesday, my earliest class, begins at 6am. This student and I have had some of the most intelligent, intimate conversations yet. He’s some big executive in Colpatria bank. They own the largest building in Bogota, the second largest in South America. At night it lights up with the colors of the Colombian flag. On the top floor are telescopes through which you can scope 360 degrees around Bogota and its mountains. My student and I meet on floor #8, and the view from his office is distracting. He and I have discussed family values, how to raise children, exchange rate fees, the problem of guerillas, the policies of the Colombian presidents, cultural evolution, and most recently, self-defense, violence, and his hostage experience. We spent a whole “class” on one of my favorite topics- fighting and martial arts. He related the story of how he was kidnapped and robbed at gunpoint while driving his car to a business partner’s home at night. Incredible that he survived. He is slightly opposed to martial arts in fear that it could actually put a person in greater danger, so we debated the pros and cons of hapkido. I hope I convinced him of the virtues of martial arts.

The security system at Colpatria is as strict as you’d expect from such a famous landmark. Through the front door are two security guards who examine your belongings and scan you, much like at an airport. Then I check in at the front desk, handing them my passport. This enables my fingerprint scan, which they took my first day. Then I go to the turnstile, scan my fingerprint, get a flush of excitement when it clicks and shows green, then pass through. I take an elevator to the 7^th floor because no elevator goes higher than that. From there I am escorted through some locked doors to floor 8, where I meet my student. I must scan my finger and get searched on my way out also. I love the walk home from Colpatria at 8am. The sun rising, the city shaking its hair and stretching, and drinking my second tiny cup of coffee on the way home.

At 9 am, I offer Hapkido at Parque el Brazil, two blocks from the house. Lots of college kids hang out here, but all they do is watch me train. I have fluorescent “5000 pesos/class” sign I stab into the ground beside me, but no one joins in. It’s only Vicky and my friend Arieta who show up to the Wednesday and Friday 9am classes. I get a good workout in nonetheless. I am practicing knuckle pushups on the concrete. They’re conditioning well. My goal is to be able to fall straight forward and catch myself on concrete with my knuckles. The way they look today says that it may take some more conditioning! People probably think I’m some ultra aggressive freak. Thing is, I simply believe in pain. Pain trains your mind. Accept pain. Welcome pain. Familiarize yourself with it. Learn to adapt to physical pain and mental anguish will be that much more tolerable. It’s discipline, and everyone knows that I need that.

As a teacher, I tend to teach too much too quick. I get so excited when the student shows a hint of understanding, so I immediately move on to the next subject. Hapkido is the coolest thing ever. I’ve begun a document outlining the self-defense measures outside of specific techniques that I’ve learned since coming to Bogota. I truly hate intrusions of one’s freedom. So much fun.

Wednesday afternoon is the same as Monday. In fact, Friday is the same as Wednesday.

Thursday is the same as Monday. Sometimes I go to the Couchsurfer gathering on Thursday nights. They’ve proven to be great people. Of my 3 regular hapkido students, 2 come from Couchsurfing. They are a more open-minded, worldly, friendly, adventurous batch.

Saturday and Sunday I teach hapkido at 4pm at Parque Nacional. People love to watch us, but so few approach us. In San Diego, people would watch less, but I had more people come to chat and even ask to join us. I always refused then. Now…. There’s some cultural stuff at work. That’s ok. I enjoy one on one teaching.

I usually go out dancing once on the weekend. This weekend I want to go to the National or Gold Museum since it’s free, and my Belgian buddies, who now work and stay for free at their hostel, are hosting a BBQ and movie night tomorrow, so that should be good. And today…. I move!

Took my camera to a repair shop referred to me by Vicky’s dad. She pretended the camera was hers, just like with the locksmith, so that I wouldn’t be ripped off. She’s like my social worker.

Which reminds me of my clients. I sent Edlinda, my old coworker in the employment world at Downtown Impact, about how many people sell all sorts of random store-bought goods on street corners. They make livings out of selling gum and cigarettes at a 25% markup. I admire this ambition, this initiative. Anyone can do it. That’s a common theme here in Latin America- the mom and pop and one man businesses. This got me thinking about how 99.9% of the workers in the U.S. are employees in major corporations. They just do what they’re told. Here, many people have owned their own businesses at some point. How does this shape a worker? A business owner here knows about initiative, scheduling, budgeting, and importance of showing up to work. They don’t have vacation days. I admire them for doing what little they can do. Even the window washers at the stop lights. They’re working. They are earning their money. America has too many dependents and too many followers. Americans got it EASY.