Saturday, August 21, 2010

Mondongo


If you know me from my pre-college years, you know me as a very picky eater. I can already envision Falco reading this and shaking her head, but I can truly promise you that my pickiness has improved greatly. I’ve expanded my eating horizons, and I am much more willing to try new foods, especially when I’m in a new country and feel that it’s part of the cultural experience. If you’re curious about Colombian food, let me give you an overview: carbs, meat, fried carbs, mystery meat, fried carbs stuffed with cheese, carbs, meat, fried meat, fried carbs stuffed with extra cheese... add in some tropical juices and ice cream and you have the full picture. Thus far, I have been a champ about not only trying everything, but also actually eating everything, regardless of whether I like it or not. To name a few, I’ve eaten unidentifiable meats, salad loaded with cilantro, buttery buttery buttered everything, and I’ve drunk whole milk, coffee, and fennel-flavored liquor (these may seem quite normal to the average person, but cilantro, butter, and whole milk are on the top of my disgusting list). The school serves both breakfast and lunch, so for two out of three meals a day I don’t get to choose what I eat. Luckily, the food has *mostly* been pretty good. The other day, however, I reached my limit and pushed a meal aside for the first time. I felt horribly doing so, and I ate quite a bit before reaching my breaking point, but I had to draw the line somewhere. It was a soup of mystery meat. It smelled like a very foul chicken soup (no pun intended), and I couldn’t figure out why I was so repulsed by a scent that resembled chicken. By the look of the actual meat, I could tell it was gooey, fatty, and disgusting, so I avoided it from the get-go and managed to accidentally spoon it into my mouth only once (I’ve become very good at sneakily spitting something out when no one is looking – quite a skill if I must say). Well after sticking to the broth and potato portion of the soup for a couple minutes, I couldn’t even handle that part anymore. I set it aside (the smell was literally making me nauseous) and ate a banana for lunch. A few minutes later, a teacher sat down next to me saying, “This is my favorite!” Another responded, “I think Sally thinks you’re crazy.” And to that, “Well she doesn’t know what it is, does she?” Eyes were on me. “Chicken? Pig’s feet?” Oh, no, no. How could I be so naïve? Cow stomach. Mmmhmmm.

Friday, August 13, 2010

Week 2: (Slowly) Falling into Place


1. Cornell Connections
This past Saturday I spent the entire morning looking for a place to live for the year. After an unsuccessful morning, I received a call from an American named Sarah who is here in Manizales for a year on a Fulbright Scholarship. She was also looking for a place to live, so she suggested we look together. Sarah is temporarily staying with a family of a professor who works at the same university where Sarah will be teaching (Universidad de Caldas). That afternoon, Sarah and the professor, Margarita, came to pick me up for an afternoon of apartment hunting. Upon meeting, Sarah and I exchanged the typical question: “Where did you go to College?” After my response, Margarita threw up her hands to say, “I lived at Cornell for a year!” As it turns out, Margarita’s husband was awarded a Fulbright scholarship in 2007 to do research at Cornell, so in the mean time Margarita taught as a Spanish professor for two semesters. We discussed all the Spanish professors that we know in common, bonded over Cornell, Ithaca and all their wonders, and then resumed the apartment search. In summary: six days after my arrival in Manizales, Colombia, with its population of 400,000, I meet a Colombian woman whose family lived in the little town of Ithaca for a year.

2. My New Home
Saturday’s search showed me that the living options here are not too great, especially if I want to stay within the budget of my Colombian salary. Luckily (very, very luckily) Juan Sebas invited me to stay in his apartment for the year. While his apartment is far beyond anything I could afford, Sebas has enjoyed having a roommate and wanted me to stay, so I’m paying the amount I was expecting to pay when I set out on my initial search. Ironically, I’m now living in Colombia (where I expected to be “roughing it”) with more amenities than I’ve ever experienced. I live in a nice, furnished apartment with two bedrooms, two full bathrooms, and a patio lining the entire Northeast wall. The pictures from my last update show a version of the view I wake up to every morning (I say “version” here because the weather changes drastically day to day, so the view always looks different). I have a doorman and a cleaning lady – luxuries that I will most likely never have again in my life. I feel spoiled to have fallen into this lucky situation, but the lovely Ari Fox made a good point here: just because I live in a shmancy apartment doesn’t mean I’m not “roughing it.” I’ve moved to a new country where I didn’t know a soul, thrown myself into a culture about which I knew essentially nothing, and have taken on my first real job in a completely foreign work environment. I was courageous enough to come here, so why not live in a little luxury?

3. 12 Hours in the Capital
Tuesday night I took an 8-hour bus ride winding through the mountains at 40km/hr to arrive in Bogotá at around 7am.  I went straight to the Ministry of External Affairs, waited 5 hours for my visa, got my visa (I can officially start work legally on Tuesday!) and then spent a few hours meandering through the streets, going into churches, and then listening to a “cuentero” (comedic storyteller) on a plaza in the evening. I was pleased to actually understand a lot of the jokes he told; those of you who have taken on another language can agree with me that humor is difficult to translate and is probably one of the last aspects to grasp in language acquisition. Then at about 7pm I headed back to the bus terminal to catch another overnight bus back to Manizales. Walking aimlessly through the gridded streets of Bogotá reminded me that one of my favorite parts about Mendoza was walking everywhere, stepping into shops, stopping to watch goings-on in a park or plaza, and taking a different route to reach the same destination each time. Unfortunately, I don’t know how much I’ll be able to enjoy long aimless walks through Manizales. The hills are steep enough to make leisurely walks not-so-leisurely, and the curving streets make it nearly impossible to know where you are. I consider myself someone who is pretty good with directions, but sometimes I’ll be two blocks away from my own house and not even know it. I’ll have to stray from the main avenue – Avenida Santander – little bits at a time, and then maybe, just maybe, I’ll start to know my way around.

Wednesday, August 4, 2010

The Beginning

The adventure begins. I arrived in Manizales on Sunday afternoon after two very long days of traveling, during which I was stuck in Bogotá while the Manizales airport was closed because of bad weather. (Potential visitors beware: the Manizales airport closes often. Though the Bogotá airport does have very nice benches to sleep on.) When I finally did make it, I couldn't believe what I saw. The city sits dispersed among lush green mountains and low hanging clouds. It is cloudy and rains almost every day, but the weather almost adds to the mountainous beauty. On a very occasional cloudless day, you can see snow-capped mountains (Los Nevados) in the distance.

I'm currently living with a guy named Juan Sebastian - a student and fellow member of AIESEC. What is AIESEC you ask? Let me explain. AIESEC is an international student-run organization founded in 1948 by students in France and Germany for the purpose of bettering relations between young adults from different backgrounds and countries. AIESEC now exists in over 100 countries, and its main goal is cultural exchange. Students work with companies, schools, organizations, etc. in their local cities to set up internships and jobs so that students from other countries can then work abroad, experience a new culture, make friends in other countries, and so on. When I decided I wanted to teach in Colombia for a year, I went onto the AIESEC database and found a teaching job. Now that I'm here, I have one AIESEC member hosting me for the next week or so, another in charge of my contract, another handling the visa and green card process, another helping me to find my own apartment, and plenty more to act as my new friends. It is quite the ideal situation. Juan Sebas has a nice apartment with great views, as you can see by the pictures I've posted - these were all taken outside of my bedroom window. He's been a great roommate - very friendly and helpful. He lives in an area called El Cable, and I'll be staying in this area when I find my own place. El Cable is filled with bars, cafes, shops, a movie theater, and anything else that you would want within a 5-block walking radius of your apartment.

The school where I'll be teaching is part of a national chain of Catholic, Opus Dei single-sex schools in Colombia. For purposes of protecting the school and myself, I am going to leave out the actual name of the school. My orientation began on Monday, and so far most of my impressions have been positive. The other teachers are very friendly and welcoming, and the coordinator of the English department has been incredibly helpful. I will be teaching Language Arts to 8th, 10th and 11th graders, and 11th grade is split into a more and less advanced group. One of the hardest aspects of this job will be accepting the differences between the Colombian and American education systems and pedagogy. A few weeks ago the English coordinator sent me an email with a list of the books I would be teaching, and I was amazed by the students' advanced level of literature. Well, I shouldn't have gotten too excited. The 11th graders do not actually read Pride and Prejudice; they read an abridged, 80-page version of the story. So here is the question I proposed: If the 11th graders are at an 8th grade English reading level, wouldn't it be better for them to read 8th-grade level books in their original version instead of more advanced books in their abridged, non-literary version? The teacher's explanation: the girls get too impatient with the length of books in their original form. Then I skimmed through a sheet with a teacher's notes regarding the books that were read in previous years. One of her comments: The abridged Heart of Darkness was too metaphorical for the 7th graders. My thoughts: What an atrocity to abridge such a beautiful piece of literature, essential in its poetic form, and how can you possibly expect 13-year-olds to conceptualize its profound significance? Later Monday night I learned from Juan Sebas that basically all Colombian schools use abridged English books; it's simply something that I'll have to accept. I proposed using short stories and short novels in their original versions as an alternative for the most advanced group; the English coordinator received this suggestion positively.

This year will be challenging in a positive way. I have moved to a country to which I have never been before, and I've entered a culture without any study abroad program orientation that explains all the rules and details of the cultural norms. I am starting a new job in a place where Mass and the Rosary are planned events in the orientation schedule, and I am the only teacher who neither speaks native Spanish nor makes the sign of the cross before every meal. I have a lot of responsibilities and a lot to learn, but I'm excited for all of it. Colombians have proven to be incredibly friendly thus far. My work space is accepting and comfortable, and I have a ready-made social network for my fun time. I'm only on day four, and although I haven't yet had a chance to explore the city, I have already made a few friends who will be showing me around this weekend. Each day I become less overwhelmed and more enthused for what lies ahead. Hasta pronto.