Dreaming in Colombian

I read something that said you shouldn’t have a blog if you don’t love your blog and update it frequently. Alas…I don’t love my blog, but I love of all of you.

After almost a month in Colombia and two weeks in my apartment, I’m starting to get a better idea of my real routine—but I’ll spare you another daily schedule post.  I now live in an apartment building in the southern part of the city with two biologists from my work.  CIAT is located to the north of Cali, near the smaller city of Palmira, which means my daily commute is slightly over an hour both ways by bus.  In the mornings I sleep the entire way to work, but the afternoon ride home has become a bit tedious.  That being said, I’m happy with my decision to live further from work and further from some of the ‘more fun’ areas because I based it on my roommates (the $110 all-inclusive rent didn’t hurt).

            My roommates are Alicia and Chucho.  Alicia is 25, from Bogota, incredibly sweet, and already married!  Her husband lives in New York City where he is pursuing his Master’s at Columbia—Alicia is very excited to have just received a visa to visit him, some other family, and some potential graduate schools over December vacation.  Chucho is from Iguaze and is studying for the GREs and applying to graduate programs in Biotechnology in the U.S. and Europe.  He loves animals.  He spent 45 minutes showing me pictures of animals from a zoo in South Africa, and he just got a beautiful fish he named Geronomo (spellingà).  Chucho hates when Geronomo sleeps because he is afraid he is dead.  To be fair, Chucho traveled for work once and his boss told him he could leave his fish in the tank with his own fish that would be cared for by a friend.  When Chucho returned, his fish had disappeared; it’s assumed the fish was eaten by one of the others.

            I’ve been a bit frustrated at work—mostly because they really haven’t given me too much to do.  I wrote a few researcher profiles, a book announcement, and I’ve been working on designing a new page for their intranet.  I’m trying to learn Dreamweaver and simultaneously look for programs to add a search engine of sorts—and while its semi-interesting, CIAT has tech people who know these things offhand (I hope) so I’m confused as to why I am searching the internet aimlessly.  This week I plan to talk to my bosses about my workload and some of my frustrations…

            Not having too much to do at work has given me lots of time to do online research on graduate programs I’m interested in, and to study for the GREs.  I’ve decided to take the exam at the end of this month, and to apply to International Health Management and Policy Programs in December.  It’s going to be a lot of work, but I’m pretty sure its what I want to be involved in.  I can wait to make any serious commitments until admissions decisions in the spring.

            So, you’re probably wondering about my crazy nightlife filled with cocaine and drug lords and super-sexual latinos.   I’ve made way into a social circle of biologists—all mid-twenty’s, really friendly, fun—through the French girl I stayed with while apartment hunting, and my roommates.  We went to Cuban jazz concert, the championships of the World Salsa Festival, a few restaurants, a couple parties—one hosted at my apartment, complete with group cooking, pisco sours, and hours of dancing.  I’ve semi-learned how to merengue—the easiest dance, I’m told.  Salsa is on the way, and while I’d like to know how, I’m not on the edge of my seat.  I’ve perused an art fair, and watched evenings get started from outdoor cafes (74 degrees at 10pm is close to perfection).  Today my roommates and I went to one of the numerous outdoor shopping centers to see a movie.  It was a Colombian film filled with violence and over-saturated colors—not exactly the relaxing afternoon I’d envisioned.  Shopping centers are like THE places to go here.  The food court food gets served to your table, live music is common, babies and bars are everywhere.  I resisted the temptation to buy something at a clothing store called “B.KUL,” which had the slogan: “Clothes that make you different.”

            Anyways, this post is long and rambling—I’d meant to write much sooner, and I hope to write more frequent, brief posts, but we’ll see.  I’m pretty exhausted and still not used to spending so much time alone, or so much time NOT talking.  But, I’m starting to get used to the city—it’s so green and there’s always a wonderful breeze in the afternoons.  I’ve started cooking to supplement the insane amount of tomatoes and mangoes I eat.  I’ve joined a gym and have allowed a trainer to design a program for me, which is full of exercises I’m very skeptical of.  All in all, I’ve reached some state of equilibrium between homesickness and excitement.  I’m not romanticizing the experience of being here (it’s an impoverished, somewhat unsafe city where people seem to long for the material markers of American culture), and yet, everyday I’m delighted by the idiosyncrasies of a city, language, and people not my own.