This is the view as you're coming into Taganga:
This is how crowded the small beach was on a Sunday:
However, this is me on that beach:
Monday, December 6, 2010
Sitting on teh beach with a good book
A couple friends and I went to Taganga a week ago. It's a small beach town about half an hour away from Santa Marta. You can get there by bus, taxi or moto. When we first got here, we hired a truck to take us all there, and sat in the back of a flatbed as it went up the twisting curves of a mountain. This time, we took a bus, which was equally as interesting.
This is the view as you're coming into Taganga:
This is how crowded the small beach was on a Sunday:
However, this is me on that beach:
This is the view as you're coming into Taganga:
This is how crowded the small beach was on a Sunday:
However, this is me on that beach:
Tuesday, November 23, 2010
New New New Apartment!
So, after much searching and too many days of coming back saying, "I will NEVER find a nice apartment here - it doesn't exist." I asked my boss if she could help me find a place to live. I felt helpless and like I just needed the help.
A few days later, we found this place:
With this view on the 11th floor:
And this is the sunset:
And this is the kitchen:
And this is the living room:
And this is a drawbridge leading to a path to the ocean:
A few days later, we found this place:
With this view on the 11th floor:
And this is the sunset:
And this is the kitchen:
And this is the living room:
And this is a drawbridge leading to a path to the ocean:
Sunday, October 24, 2010
Cartagena
Cartagena is a gorgeous seaside town that was a Spanish colony for many years. The Cartagena walls were to protect the city from such nefarious pirates as Sir Francis Drake, who attacked the city twice and was repelled both times.
Sunday, October 17, 2010
cute animals fail
I could post this as simply a picture of me and kittens being cute, but in reality this shows a sad truth about Colombia that I'm realizing. Here, animals (even pets) are not neutered. What's happened because of that sad fact is that there are a lot of street animals - dogs and cats that are literally starving to death on the street and living by eating trash or hunting. It's rare to see a street dog that isn't limping from being hit by a car or who doesn't look like he has worms or is covered in ticks.
There's no way to solve the problem. The mayor of Santa Marta has police periodically round up dogs and then electrocute them.
I guess this makes me want to start screaming "NEUTER YOUR PETS" from the rooftops.
The kittens I'm holding are from inside our compound. Their mother is so thin that she's just skin and bone. I would love to start feeding her, but then what will she do when I move?
There's no way to solve the problem. The mayor of Santa Marta has police periodically round up dogs and then electrocute them.
I guess this makes me want to start screaming "NEUTER YOUR PETS" from the rooftops.
The kittens I'm holding are from inside our compound. Their mother is so thin that she's just skin and bone. I would love to start feeding her, but then what will she do when I move?
Saturday, October 9, 2010
bagged milk
One of the things I've had to get used to here is the fact that bags are way more common than boxes, cartons or any other form of container. EVERYTHING is bagged at the market. Yogurt, water, and milk are the most surprising ones.
So, people have devised a way to pour/use milk in bags. It's a small, super expensive (because all plastic needs to be imported) container that you put the bags of milk in before you cut a corner and pour.
So, people have devised a way to pour/use milk in bags. It's a small, super expensive (because all plastic needs to be imported) container that you put the bags of milk in before you cut a corner and pour.
Saturday, September 18, 2010
Buses in Santa Marta
I've tried explaining the buses to mom and dad, but I'm not sure they understood how utterly different they are. Here, you hail it like you'd hail a taxi in New York, then you get on and pay the guy (they're usually teenagers or early 20 year olds) in the door 1,200 pesos. A lot of them will let you get away with paying 1,000, though.
Then you fall down as the bus jerks away while you're still standing. The buses go on routes around the city, traveling from one end to the other. Santa Marta is like a giant horse shoe with the center a mountain that only people in shanty towns live in.
The man standing in the doorway is not waiting to get on or off, he's the... portero for a lack of a title. He lets you on and takes your money, and when you want to get off, you have to let him know and he lets the driver know.
The drivers always have minimal interaction with the passengers. Mostly, they accept big bills from the porteros and literally sit on them.
In the hand you can't see, he has money clasped between his fingers like a fan so that he can give change without digging through a bag o' money.
The buses' goal is to get ALL the people who want to take a bus, even if they aren't going to the same place. In this respect, the portero is also a sales person. He'll lean out and you'll ask if he's going where you want to go and he'll say yes, regardless of whether he is.
Big buses have their porteros get out and walk alongside where there are lots of people waiting. I've seen one sound more like a salesman than a money collector.
Then you fall down as the bus jerks away while you're still standing. The buses go on routes around the city, traveling from one end to the other. Santa Marta is like a giant horse shoe with the center a mountain that only people in shanty towns live in.
The man standing in the doorway is not waiting to get on or off, he's the... portero for a lack of a title. He lets you on and takes your money, and when you want to get off, you have to let him know and he lets the driver know.
The drivers always have minimal interaction with the passengers. Mostly, they accept big bills from the porteros and literally sit on them.
In the hand you can't see, he has money clasped between his fingers like a fan so that he can give change without digging through a bag o' money.
The buses' goal is to get ALL the people who want to take a bus, even if they aren't going to the same place. In this respect, the portero is also a sales person. He'll lean out and you'll ask if he's going where you want to go and he'll say yes, regardless of whether he is.
Big buses have their porteros get out and walk alongside where there are lots of people waiting. I've seen one sound more like a salesman than a money collector.
New apartment!
The view from my window.
My bedroom and bathroom.
A little geko friend we had on the first day.
Our living room.
Monday, September 6, 2010
I feel I should try and explain my limited understanding of the Santa Marta rental industry. After having been essentially coddled into an apartment, I am by no means an expert, but there are some interesting differences between apartment hunting in Santa Marta and apartment hunting elsewhere.
Firstly, most Santa Marta apartments come "fully furnished." This includes dishware and pots and pans. The reason for this is because most people rent out apartments in Santa Marta during the "high season" to tourists. Santa Marta is a huge tourist town and a good beachfront apartment can earn from 1-4 million pesos a week. This is a lot of money in Santa Marta and it's one reason that if you take an apartment and promise to be out during December/January, your rent is often a lot lower than if you need to be in the apartment at that time.
The "high season" is also the reason a lot of people would prefer their apartments go empty during the year and then make bucco buck during the high season.
My new apartment is really nice. Not as nice as some friends of ours who got a penthouse for less, but you have to look at everything as an opportunity.
Uploading pictures of it is aparently taking up too much bandwidth, so I will hold off on that until I have internet. Hopefully soon!
Firstly, most Santa Marta apartments come "fully furnished." This includes dishware and pots and pans. The reason for this is because most people rent out apartments in Santa Marta during the "high season" to tourists. Santa Marta is a huge tourist town and a good beachfront apartment can earn from 1-4 million pesos a week. This is a lot of money in Santa Marta and it's one reason that if you take an apartment and promise to be out during December/January, your rent is often a lot lower than if you need to be in the apartment at that time.
The "high season" is also the reason a lot of people would prefer their apartments go empty during the year and then make bucco buck during the high season.
My new apartment is really nice. Not as nice as some friends of ours who got a penthouse for less, but you have to look at everything as an opportunity.
Uploading pictures of it is aparently taking up too much bandwidth, so I will hold off on that until I have internet. Hopefully soon!
Saturday, August 28, 2010
Food
Because I'm still living in the hostel, food has become a major concern. We technically have a kitchen here and a stove, but some interesting things are becoming clear about Colombia.
They don't have ovens. Electricity is so expensive here that ovens are more often used as storage spaces for pots and pans. At our hostel, the oven doesn't even have a door.
They eat different food than "Mexican food". The cuisine is distinct and also distinctly not American. Today I ordered a lunch of pescado frito and found that it came with skin and bones on. I ended up picking the meat off with my fingers in order to eat it. Also, it had teeth.
Me: ...my fish has teeth.
Juan: *cracks up*
Me: I thought it came deboned. I don't know how to debone a fish! How am I supposed to eat this?
Juan: With your fingers?
They don't have ovens. Electricity is so expensive here that ovens are more often used as storage spaces for pots and pans. At our hostel, the oven doesn't even have a door.
They eat different food than "Mexican food". The cuisine is distinct and also distinctly not American. Today I ordered a lunch of pescado frito and found that it came with skin and bones on. I ended up picking the meat off with my fingers in order to eat it. Also, it had teeth.
Me: ...my fish has teeth.
Juan: *cracks up*
Me: I thought it came deboned. I don't know how to debone a fish! How am I supposed to eat this?
Juan: With your fingers?
Friday, August 27, 2010
First two days in Colombia!
I have so much to update, it's hard to figure out where to start.
Firstly, I had rather teary goodbye with my dad at the airport. We had to walk about 6 terminals to find the correct one, and then it turned out I would have to take a bus to the actual plane! I wish I'd gotten a picture of it, the plane was out in the boondocks of the airport - I felt like we were taking off in a construction zone!
When I got on, I had the whole row to myself, so I spread out and then someone in a full row asked to sit on the far side of my row. I think it was an Israeli - he was wearing traditional Jewish clothes and a yamakuh. He spoke little English and minimal spanish from what I could tell. I couldn't figure out why he was going to Panama from LAX of all places.
I don't remember the first half hour of the flight, I passed out before we finished taking off and woke when they served us a light breakfast burrito.
The rest of the flight was a lot of reading. I got through two books!
Flying into Panama was gorgeous.
It was almost sunset and we could see storm clouds rolling in. At the airport, I bummed around for a few hours trying to find something to do. I began compulsively eating the fruit I'd packed, because I suddenly became worried that they would hassle me at customs because of it.
Finally it was time to get on the plane! It was really dark at this point and I began being worried that I'd told Kim the wrong airline to pick me up at.
On the plane, I was sitting next to a drunk man who kept telling me stories that I only partially understood. Finally, I was pressed so far away from him that I was against the window.
When he left me alone, I ignored him.
As we were flying in, I noted all these bright flashes in the sky - pretty near to our plane! I couldn't figure out what they were, when finally I realized they might be lightning. We were landing during a lightning storm!
At the airport, we were the only plane disembark and after I got through customs (no questions about fruit or vegetables), and I'd put my bags through another x-ray machine. (this one MUCH shadier than the last), I got to the arrivals gate and there was Kim and a friend of his named Nickolas!
They were very helpful with my very overpacked bags and took me to a car and were a definite sight for sore eyes.
We drove for about an hour and a half through the lightning. We passed through some very poor areas and I couldn't quite believe the level of poverty. There were shanty-towns that had soldiers lining the streets, with great big guns. It was intersting and foreign at the same time.
Finally, we ended up at a hostel.
The owner was very friendly, even though it was midnight when we got in. Kim said that he would come over early so that I could have breakfast and call my parents. It was such a relief to know that. He said he'd come over at 8:30 so I woke on and off throughout the night until it was close enough to 8 that I could get up.
I have no watch, so I had to keep checking my kindle.
Kim left after breakfast so that he could pick up the other arriving teachers and I had a lovely lunch with his father. It was really nice because his housekeeper is a sweet woman who took me under her wing and answered my stupid questions and responded to my partial Spanish.
Then everyone was here and we went to a nice dinner!
The next day, we woke early and headed out to get blood typed, taken pictures, and get a "cedula". A cedula is a Colombian ID card and apparently, no one can get anything without it. Until we get one, we're undocumented workers!
We thought we'd get temporary ones, but they couldn't give us temporary ones, so we have to wait 2 weeks to get official ones. It was a little disappointing because it was SO MUCH work to fill out all the forms in Spanish and get blood typed and drive around town.
I lied on my application and said that I was Catholic, because as one of the guys pointed out, it's a 90% Catholic nation and you don't want a minor thing to be the reason you get denied a cedula or something.
Then we went to have lunch and we were all starving and slightly headachey. We hadn't had breakfast because none of us had Colombian pesos, and the woman taking us to get cedulas didn't know we didn't have breakfast. When he arrived, we got "the best burgers in the world" and they might have been, but I was so hungry I ate mine too fast to taste it.
Then there was an adventure trying to cash the traveler's checks! No one would take them! It was more than a pain, it was embarrassing because we were dragging everyone else with us to try to get them cashed. Finally, everyone else went home and we went to this downtown bank inside an Exito (it's like Target), and they cashed some. I think I'll just keep the rest until I come home and put them straight back in my bank account.
Now I'm home.
Firstly, I had rather teary goodbye with my dad at the airport. We had to walk about 6 terminals to find the correct one, and then it turned out I would have to take a bus to the actual plane! I wish I'd gotten a picture of it, the plane was out in the boondocks of the airport - I felt like we were taking off in a construction zone!
When I got on, I had the whole row to myself, so I spread out and then someone in a full row asked to sit on the far side of my row. I think it was an Israeli - he was wearing traditional Jewish clothes and a yamakuh. He spoke little English and minimal spanish from what I could tell. I couldn't figure out why he was going to Panama from LAX of all places.
I don't remember the first half hour of the flight, I passed out before we finished taking off and woke when they served us a light breakfast burrito.
The rest of the flight was a lot of reading. I got through two books!
Flying into Panama was gorgeous.
It was almost sunset and we could see storm clouds rolling in. At the airport, I bummed around for a few hours trying to find something to do. I began compulsively eating the fruit I'd packed, because I suddenly became worried that they would hassle me at customs because of it.
Finally it was time to get on the plane! It was really dark at this point and I began being worried that I'd told Kim the wrong airline to pick me up at.
On the plane, I was sitting next to a drunk man who kept telling me stories that I only partially understood. Finally, I was pressed so far away from him that I was against the window.
When he left me alone, I ignored him.
As we were flying in, I noted all these bright flashes in the sky - pretty near to our plane! I couldn't figure out what they were, when finally I realized they might be lightning. We were landing during a lightning storm!
At the airport, we were the only plane disembark and after I got through customs (no questions about fruit or vegetables), and I'd put my bags through another x-ray machine. (this one MUCH shadier than the last), I got to the arrivals gate and there was Kim and a friend of his named Nickolas!
They were very helpful with my very overpacked bags and took me to a car and were a definite sight for sore eyes.
We drove for about an hour and a half through the lightning. We passed through some very poor areas and I couldn't quite believe the level of poverty. There were shanty-towns that had soldiers lining the streets, with great big guns. It was intersting and foreign at the same time.
Finally, we ended up at a hostel.
The owner was very friendly, even though it was midnight when we got in. Kim said that he would come over early so that I could have breakfast and call my parents. It was such a relief to know that. He said he'd come over at 8:30 so I woke on and off throughout the night until it was close enough to 8 that I could get up.
I have no watch, so I had to keep checking my kindle.
Kim left after breakfast so that he could pick up the other arriving teachers and I had a lovely lunch with his father. It was really nice because his housekeeper is a sweet woman who took me under her wing and answered my stupid questions and responded to my partial Spanish.
Then everyone was here and we went to a nice dinner!
The next day, we woke early and headed out to get blood typed, taken pictures, and get a "cedula". A cedula is a Colombian ID card and apparently, no one can get anything without it. Until we get one, we're undocumented workers!
We thought we'd get temporary ones, but they couldn't give us temporary ones, so we have to wait 2 weeks to get official ones. It was a little disappointing because it was SO MUCH work to fill out all the forms in Spanish and get blood typed and drive around town.
I lied on my application and said that I was Catholic, because as one of the guys pointed out, it's a 90% Catholic nation and you don't want a minor thing to be the reason you get denied a cedula or something.
Then we went to have lunch and we were all starving and slightly headachey. We hadn't had breakfast because none of us had Colombian pesos, and the woman taking us to get cedulas didn't know we didn't have breakfast. When he arrived, we got "the best burgers in the world" and they might have been, but I was so hungry I ate mine too fast to taste it.
Then there was an adventure trying to cash the traveler's checks! No one would take them! It was more than a pain, it was embarrassing because we were dragging everyone else with us to try to get them cashed. Finally, everyone else went home and we went to this downtown bank inside an Exito (it's like Target), and they cashed some. I think I'll just keep the rest until I come home and put them straight back in my bank account.
Now I'm home.
Sunday, August 15, 2010
Visa part 3
Apparently, the steps to getting a visa are designed to make no sense. For example, one of the steps is going to the consulate and handing over every document you have collected with the HOPE that they are all needed to get a visa. And the HOPE that they are all of the documents needed.
The woman who accepted all of my documents seemed to not speak English well. And I felt like I was being rude wondering why they would post someone in the US if they didn't speak fluent English. It was odd. You'd think that would be a requirement. But, apparently not.
Also, leaving my passport there was SCARY.
I guess I will see on Tuesday if I have a visa and can start buying things.
The woman who accepted all of my documents seemed to not speak English well. And I felt like I was being rude wondering why they would post someone in the US if they didn't speak fluent English. It was odd. You'd think that would be a requirement. But, apparently not.
Also, leaving my passport there was SCARY.
I guess I will see on Tuesday if I have a visa and can start buying things.
Sunday, August 8, 2010
visa part 2
Getting an appointment at the consulate is actually impossible. Their phone system makes you listen to several 5 minute long messages without ever actually giving you the option of talking with a human.
I'm also concerned that I've bought a ticket (a very expensive ticket) and will not end up on the plane. This makes my stomach actually ROLL OVER with fear.
I'm concerned because what if the school didn't send the right paperwork? Or what if they didn't send it fast enough?
I feel as though leaving the country should be scary enough without worrying about such things.
I'm also concerned that I've bought a ticket (a very expensive ticket) and will not end up on the plane. This makes my stomach actually ROLL OVER with fear.
I'm concerned because what if the school didn't send the right paperwork? Or what if they didn't send it fast enough?
I feel as though leaving the country should be scary enough without worrying about such things.
Monday, July 5, 2010
visa part 1
So, in order to get a visa, I have to do a series of increasingly odd things, not limited to getting 3 (not four, which is weird because they come in packs of 2) passport photos and getting documents apostilled.
What is an apostille, you might ask?
It's a note from the state of California saying that a signature is legitimate. Essentially, it's California saying that the notary is real. The notary said that he saw me sign a document. I said the document is real. Theoretically, the document could be false, but who cares because I signed something saying it was real. It's all very bureaucratic.
What is an apostille, you might ask?
It's a note from the state of California saying that a signature is legitimate. Essentially, it's California saying that the notary is real. The notary said that he saw me sign a document. I said the document is real. Theoretically, the document could be false, but who cares because I signed something saying it was real. It's all very bureaucratic.
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