Colombia

Last week Friday, Naomi and I took a walk to see where our next Airbnb was, and to have a look at the neighbourhood. On a street corner very near our apartment we passed a large and very busy restaurant. There were many tables all along the two sides that faced the streets, and inside were many more tables. And most of the outside tables were occupied. The place was humming. And it looked like mostly locals — fishermen, taxi drivers, and families were enjoying breakfast. We made a note of it: if the locals eat there and the place is busy, it must be good.

We’ve already had one evening meal there (I really like my pollo asado – roasted chicken). But the menu is extensive, so tonight we went back for another round.

I have been using my phone to ‘Translate’ the menus so far. My Spanish lessons from twenty years ago haven’t really helped me at all on this trip. Naomi’s Spanish is MUCH better than mine. She had mentioned a street food called ‘salty peppers’ a few times on this trip, So when I decided to try one of the ‘Salchipapas’ dishes, Naomi knew exactly what that was. She said basically it was sliced up wieners mixed with french fries, and it had been a favourite for her and her family when they’d lived in Guatemala for a year some 30 years ago. Well, wieners and fries are two of my favourite foods, so I was looking forward to this. In fact, I decided on the ‘Choripapa’ — which substituted wieners with chorizo. Even better!

I was already enjoying an Aguila cerveza (an original Colombian beer, delicious, and like all the local beers, around $2 Canadian in a restaurant!) when the waitress brought us our food. Here she comes with a big white bowl, filled to the top with white cheese! This was a lot of food! Well, below that cheese topping was lettuce, slices of fried chorizo, salsa, lettuce, onion slices, and tomato slices. It was DELICIOUS! And with a little help from Naomi, I finished the whole bowl. Just describing it here makes me hungry — and I’m quite sure that won’t be my last ‘Salty Pepper’.

It is the beginning of the week and so that means work! Well not 9 to 5 type work (we are not coming out of retirement) but business needs to get done.   Last week Rudy tried to book bus tickets to Cartagena online. And despite the fact he spent a long time and did it over and over again, and asked ChatGPT for help, and muttered under his breath, he was not able to get it completed. They just weren’t accepting his credit card. So, this morning, we headed out into the heat to catch a city bus down to the Terminal de Transportes de Santa Marta. We caught a bus. I inquired whether it went “a terminal” and off we went. We wound our way back and forth and eventually got there. We pealed our sweaty backs off the bus seats and went inside the terminal to purchase tickets for Saturday. With some false starts and misunderstandings we (and by we, I mean Rudy) were able to get the tickets. Back we went outside into the blistering sun and after waiting for the bus for a short time, we caved and took a taxi back to our place. Now we are all set to move on to our next destination on the weekend.

After such a strenuous beginning to the day, we needed to relax. I worked on drawing and painting was glad to pronounce my efforts a success. By success I do not mean, work of art. But I was able to get some shadows and reflections on the tabletop and also get the look of a glass bowl and a tumbler looking like that were transparent. Water colour work is so interesting because you have to work very quickly at some points in order to get your paint down and not rework it so it looks muddy but also slow because you need to let areas dry before you move on.  I feel like such a newbie on all these efforts and will probably look back on these postings as very rudimentary. (I hope so because that means I will have continued to work on this after the Colombia trip and I will get better.) But art is a lot like golf (at least this is how Rudy explains it). You can think you are getting better and then all of a sudden you are back to first base. (too many mixed metaphors??)

By late afternoon I was ready to venture outside again.  So I went for an explore in the neighbourhood and down to the beach to see what was happening there. Each beach has its own flavour. This one is smaller than the last beach we were at. It is bookended at the north and south edge by cliffs. It is also a locals beach. (I only saw 2 other recognizable foreigners). It is a recreational area as well as a working beach. Fishing boats pulled up on the shore take up a good chunk of space. And it was teaming with people. I spent such a delightful time just people watching: babies and toddlers splashing and jumping in the waves,  parents building castles with their kids,  teenagers, sweaty and panting, as they kick a soccer ball down the beach, and even a quinceanera photoshoot. I arrived in time to catch the last of the daylight and to watch the sunset.

On the way home I passed a few of those places that make this neighbourhood a strange place.  Right across the street from us in our high-rise is a camp ground. Who actually camps there? I don’t know because to try to sit or sleep in this heat would be absolutely impossible.

Supper was at the end of the street. The little bakery turns into an Arabic Restaurant at night. But they don’t cook anything there. Instead they send the delivery boy to pick up the china plates of hummus, tabouli, and kebab on his bicycle. We had to wait a bit for the food but it was well worth it. So delicious. And while we waited I watched a bit of soccer at the small indoor-sized (but outdoor) soccer pitch.

It’s moving day today and when we move to a new location the day feels somewhat wasted and that  mostly nothing happens. We pack, we clean, we wait, we play sudoko and read books and news.  Our check out time is twelve. Rudy cooks breakfast, cleaning out some of the last things in the fridge: some eggs, cheese, and fruit.  We take a taxi a short drive up the coast to our new place and after a short wait we get into the apartment. It is hard to compete with the place we are leaving. The pool was glorious. The old condos had many windows in all directions and was so homey. It felt like we were staying at someone’s beach house.  The new place will be okay but the neighbourhood is rougher and the apartment is small and a cookie cutter of many of the places that can be found on Airbnb. But it does have a washing machine and after washing clothes out by hand for a while I am so glad to throw a huge load into the machine and have it do all the work.

I am overwhelmed with the new place. I always feel this way when we move on. I decide that escape is the best choice and I lie down in bed with my book and before I know it I have fallen asleep. I wake to the doorbell. Rudy has gone out to look for a grocery store and has come back with a big bag of groceries for the week.

We hang the laundry out on the balcony. We are in a tall tower complex. However, the juxtaposition of what we see from our balcony is diametrically opposed to what our apartment is like.  We look out upon a huge empty lot. Well, almost empty.  It has some trees but mostly dirt and concrete debris and one small cinder block dwelling. It is very rough. Three or four dogs lie in the dirt around the tiny house occasionally getting up to bark and chase each other around. A young boy and young woman stack plastic patio chairs. A pig roots around the yard. It all seems very strange. The whole picture. Me observing the scene below and the people who live in the house being overshadowed by the modern apartment tower. What with all the crazy things happening in the world this strange picture of me in a luxury tower and someone else living with their kid and their pig in a small dwelling just below leaves me somewhat undone. The fast and furious pace of international happenings (many of which are led by the crazy stuff in the Whitehouse) cause tears to well up and threaten to spill out. It makes me want to be at home and not traveling. Being at home would not change any of what is happening but the comfort of friends and family would be good. Well at least I have Rudy and it is great to have someone to share all these feelings with.

Despite all those feelings I enjoy some relaxing refreshing time at the pool and Rudy tunes into the Jets hockey game in the evening. Life keeps on happening and we are lucky to be enjoying each others’ company in this beautiful warm climate.

Woke up this morning– another beautiful morning. It’s our last full day here at La Mansión. Naomi made pancakes for breakfast. We topped them with  mangos and bananas and pineapple. After breakfast was cleaned up I sat around as I usually do, reading the news or watching last night’s late night talk shows on YouTube.

In the early afternoon Naomi made a guacamole dip to go with our taco chips. A couple of cold ‘Poker’ beers to go with that. I think it was shortly after our lunch that I saw the ‘Breaking News’ that Trump and Zelensky had had a major spat in front of the press. I turned on our TV. Both CNN and Al Jazeera were replaying the meeting at the White House. Already the US newspapers were calling it a most-shocking exchange, a disaster. Trump and Vance were berating Zelensky, blaming him for the war, and not letting him explain how it was the Russians who had been the instigators and aggressors. Topsy turvy. Every time you think you’ve seen it all, every time you think things can’t get more bizarre, that ‘very stable genius’ takes it down another notch.

It was unsettling. Especially for Naomi. When I suggested we go out for an ice cream cone she wasn’t in the mood for it. Said she didn’t even like ice cream! Topsy turvy. I eventually convinced her to come with me to the mall next door. She could go get herself a chocolate bar, and I’d get myself an ice cream cone.

At the mall Naomi headed upstairs to buy herself that chocolate bar and I went to the ice cream shop. There were two employees working at the counter. They appeared to be much too busy to have time to take care of a paying customer — me. One of them had a clipboard and was taking inventory. The other was cleaning one of the ice cream ‘pots’. I stood there for quite a while, pointing to the flavour of ice cream I wanted. They ignored me. I finally turned around and left. I would find my ice cream cone where someone would be happy for my business.

I headed to the supermarket at the other end of the mall. I found various ice cream treats in a cooler near the back of the store. I took out a ‘drumstick’ and took it to the checkout at the front of the store. There were three cashiers, all huddled at the only checkout that was open, looking at their phones. The one customer ahead of me had his small cart of groceries on the counter waiting to be scanned. I guess the first item needed a price check — and one of the three cashiers sauntered off with the item. And I stood there with my drumstick, waiting. I looked at two remaining cashiers, trying to catch their attention. Finally I spoke up: Could you just scan this melting ice cream cone and let me through? The guy ahead of me nodded his approval. But the cashier waved her hand at the groceries waiting to be scanned and shook her head. What? Really? I took my cone back to the freezer and left the store.

I don’t understand what’s the issue is. The Colombian people are friendly enough — but this business of super long, super slow line-ups, of people jumping the queue or butting in line, of store clerks ignoring customers like E.G Penner service people do — it’s starting to piss me off.

I finally opted for an ice coffee from the Juan Valdez coffee shop. Even here, although I was the only customer at the counter, all three workers on the other side of the counter ignored me. One was acting busy, but the other two were just standing there, looking at their phones. I had to ask for their attention, could they please take my order, etc.

By the time I got my coffee, Naomi had nearly finished her chocolate bar and had texted me “Where are you?” messages. She was sitting at a table in the central atrium of the mall. I joined her and told her the whole sad story of my ‘shopping’ misadventures. Instead of the customer doing the business a favour, here it seemed that the business was doing me the favour, allowing me to part with some of my money for their poor service. Topsy turvy.

And then I was lying on the floor beside our table. Huh? What happened? I gathered myself and struggled to get back up. The plastic chair I’d been sitting on had collapsed and I’d gone ‘topsy turvy’ to the ground. People at the tables around ours were all staring at me. One of them came running up with a different type of plastic chair — explaining that the chair I’d been on was a terrible design with very flimsy legs. I’m not sure what was more painful — my left shoulder or my pride.

We went home and spent another few hours reading and puzzling and wasting time. At around 7pm we went back to the mall for supper. Up in the food court, we enjoyed another pizza, our second this week. We were going to watch one of my downloaded movies, but once we got back home Naomi had a long phone call with one of her daughters and I started on the blog.

And that’s about it. Tomorrow morning we’ll pack up and head on down the road to our ‘new’ place.

No interesting photos today — so I’ll conclude with a couple of uninteresting ones: the complex that we’re in here at La Mansión has buildings that feature many angles so that our windows–of which we have many–give us a view in many directions.

This morning it was Rudy who was ready for an outing and I just wanted to stay inside and have my morning cup of tea. So off he went in search of a great cup of coffee and a tasty pastry. He went to the Juan Valdez coffee place next to our place but it wasn’t open yet so he had to venture further afield. It wasn’t long before he texted me that he was going to walk further to try to find the place we are moving to on Saturday. That was too much for me. I couldn’t miss out on a walk so I told him to wait and I gulped down my tea and headed out. I found him at a lovely little Panaderia down the road. He had just finished his coffee and a chocolate covered donut and he looked quite pleased with himself.

We headed off to check out our new place. It will be great to be in a new neighbourhood and to see some new sights. Rudy took a few pictures on our walk.

 

By the time we made it back we were both quite sweaty so off we went to the pool for a swim. After that I spent a good part of the afternoon at my ‘paint table’.

And Rudy forayed out again for an ice cream cone and to get more beer. The beer he likes is quite a bargain. A six pack costs 13,900 COP which works out to be 81 cents per beer. This evening Rudy is back watching the Jets and I am reading a book.

Today something that I have worried about has been confirmed.  I have learned a new lesson. There is no safe and secure way to cross a busy road! When we first arrived at our present accommodation I was relieved to note that there was a traffic light just a hundred meters up the busy street that borders the front of the complex. I would now not have to worry about dodging traffic to get across the busy roadway. But I have not used it that much as Rudy sees no necessity of walking those extra few meters to cross in safety. So I have mostly looked for a break in traffic and then run to the narrow meridian and then done the same to cross the opposite direction lanes.

But today when I went out early by myself for a walk I decided to cross at the lights. Approaching the lights I observed what happened and, for the most part, it seemed like what I was used to. However once the traffic light turned red and the walking light turned green I realized that red was only a suggestion. The motorcycles were clear on that. They slowed, sometimes, but rarely stopped. The vehicles hesitated to see if I was serious about crossing and, if I at all hesitated, they kept on going. But a firm resolve did not ease my fright. For, even if the buses and cars stopped, the motorcycles wove around the bigger vehicles and continued on. So yah, I made it across but it was not without my heart in my mouth.

Today, I took a different path (I turned left) and made my way, through small streets, towards the ocean. There were still loads of high-rises but also many lovely one-story houses tucked in and dwarfed by the massive multistory buildings. It was quiet on the streets with the occasional dog walker but also I was early enough to see the fish peddlers with their lovely fresh catch for the day, riding their bicycle carts through the quiet neighbourhoods and calling out, “Langostinos, Pescados, Camarones.”

Rudy was under the weather today so didn’t venture far. I did a little exploring and went and read a book on a patio down the street. I also spent a chunk of time painting. In the evening Rudy watched the Jets’ game and I read some more.

Today I got up and just wanted to read my book or paint on my new large pieces of watercolour paper but we needed to do some more arranging for the next leg of our stay in Colombia. We tried to negotiate a longer time at the place we are staying at because we are enjoying it so much but only managed to get another couple of days as they are booked after that. We talked and checked and looked at our calendar and where we all wanted to go yet and juggled dates and combed through Airbnb listings, and followed bus routes up the coast, and checked for deals on flights from Cartagena to Medellin and back and forth and back and forth until we were sick and tired of it all. The long and short of it is that even though we spent a huge chunk of the day on all these travel arrangements we have some stuff nailed down.

Well after all that I needed a swim. There is absolutely NOTHING like a swim in the huge pool here. I cannot say enough how rejuvenating it is to slide into the water and swim back and forth from end to end. The only thing missing is a swimming partner. I am struck with how grateful I am that dad and mom insisted that we take swimming lessons and that we had the Boissevain pool to swim in most days during the summer (as well as the lakes in the Turtle Mountains).

Now it is evening. We have walked on the beach and feasted on fresh fish. The only thing left to do is snuggle up with my book and enjoy the rest of the evening.

Today is a day for a big adventure. As you have read on Sunday’s post, Rudy is without a phone and this is something that needed to be remedied. Who is all calling him, you might ask? Well really it is just me when I need to get back into the apartment (there is only one key ever) and he is out gallivanting. How often does this happen? Well so far on the this trip I can count that on one finger. But we have nothing more pressing to do and Rudy is an expert on how to get to this mall across the city so off we go. I am looking forward to bus travel as we have not yet done it on this trip and it really tends to give a feel for the pulse of a place and its people. And if nothing else, we will really work up a sweat.

The bus ride over the mountain into Santa Marta is beautiful. There are miles of walkways along the highway on their own separate metal structures and they are something to look at, hanging over the edges of the gulches.

The ride is long and we are at the back of the bus. On one particular road we almost break our tailbones as we race along at breakneck speeds and hit hug potholes. (Manitoba, in spring, has nothing on the massive chunks of missing road here in Santa Marta.) Finally, after some interesting fights between the driver and various people who try to sneak on the bus without paying, we arrive at a spot on a large road where the driver stops and yells at us to get out. We have to walk the rest of the way. Luckily it isn’t far.

The mall is massive, the stores very fancy, and the air conditioning pumping out great gusts of cold air. Rudy goes to stand in line at Claro and I wander around. It is basically like a North American mall except the walkways are so wide and filled with tropical plants. I wander to an art store and search for big pieces of watercolour paper. Soon Rudy is done. He is in need of some new shorts so we look. Most places are designer stores but we do find some stores for regular people and Rudy finds what he needs. We relax in the coolness for a while and eat some mall food. Then we need to brave the heat and the crowded buses and go home. The bus fare is 2,600 COP (which is 90 cents Canadian ) for a regular bus. Occasionally there are air conditioned buses and the fare is 2,700 COP (93.5 cents Canadian). We hope for an air conditioned ride and figure that we can spend an extra 7 cents for the both of us but we are not in luck. The trip home is hot, but fun. There is lots to see and experience.

Once home I immediately get my bathing suit on and head down to the pool. Within a few minutes even Rudy has joined me so that is an indication of how much he needed to cool down.

The evening is spent doing what each of us likes to do best: Rudy watching the Jets game and me reading my new book. Both the new book and the Jets game are real nail biters so it turns out to be a really satisfying evening.

I first noticed it yesterday afternoon. Naomi asked me to download a couple of books for her kindle and texted me the name of the author. For sure the author’s name had way more letters in it than I could remember by the time I got to my computer type it into the search field, so I waited for the text. Didn’t get it. Hmm… Check WhatsApp. No, not there either. Send it again. Nothing. I finally went to look at her phone to see if she’d actually ‘sent’ it. Yep. Well, I never got it. I copied it into my computer, letter by letter: ‘Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie’. See what I mean?

Later that afternoon, I headed out to the beach to take a look at the crowd of people that were winding down their day there. And I looked at all the little drink stands and ceviche bars. And I looked at the gorgeous sunset. And I took a bunch of photos of all of that. I sat down at one of the stands and had a small order of fries. While waiting for them I sent a text to Naomi about my whereabouts. Funny, no cell signal here. No wifi either. No sending of texts. No phone calls. Something is fishy with my phone.

I stopped by the mall that is next to our ‘resort’ and explained my problem to a couple of young workers at a little phone sales booth there. The guy looked up the serial number on my phone, then logged into an official government website — where it was confirmed. My phone has been ‘blocked’. Apparently, in order to discourage bad people from stealing other people’s phones, the government keeps a record of ‘unregistered’ phones. And it turns out that that ‘nice lady’ at the airport who double charged me for my super-duper phone plan not only ripped me off — but ‘forgot’ to ‘register’ my phone, as all sellers of SIM cards and phone plans are supposed to do. So what now? Well, the guy says, I need to go to the one ‘official’ Claro phone store in the big mall 10 kms away in neighbouring Santa Marta — and they can ‘release’ my phone if I can prove that it’s legitimately mine.

And that’s what led to today’s adventure.

I wasn’t sure how best to get to that mall this morning, so I did a bit of ‘research’ on my computer, asked ChatGPT for some advice, and shortly after breakfast (toast and yogurt, in case you’re wondering) I took my ‘useless’ phone and headed out to the street to catch a bus. I knew what route I should be taking, but after watching a few buses go by, wasn’t sure exactly which of the posters plastered onto the windshield of the bus would tell me what route they were going. So I ended up just jumping onto a bus, saying the name of the mall (Centro Comercial Buenavista) to the driver. He looked at me quizzically. I said it slower and louder. Huh? Even louder. He motioned for me to hand him some money and go sit down. By now all the other passengers were clearly a little ticked that this gringo was slowing down there ride.

Well, you probably already guessed that about 40 minutes into the hot and crowded ride, it became clear to me that this bus was not going to get me to the mall. I showed the lady with the baby in the seat beside me my ‘useless’ phone, which showed the Buenavista place name on google maps. No, she shook her head. She ended up getting off the bus with me, waiting at a very warm bus bench for the ‘right’ bus, pushing me onto the bus while yelling ‘buenavista’ at the driver. And just like that! only about 30 minutes longer than it should have taken, I arrived at the big beautiful Buenavista shopping mall.

I found the Claro store near the big cinema at one end of the mall. There was a waiting line. There is ALWAYS a waiting line. I waited patiently for my turn to speak to the expert who was ‘screening’ the customers. (One thing I’ve learned about Colombia: they have a lot of line ups. The ATMS have long queues at each machine, and people sure do take their sweet time at the machine. Here there were several booths with workers just waiting for the next customer — but no, they have a system!) When it was my turn to explain my issue (that is, the two of us typing into my ‘translate’ program, since no matter how loudly and clearly I put together a few Spanish words, she didn’t seem to understand), it turned out that yes, I had come to the right place, but no, they couldn’t help me today. I gathered that the problem needed to involve the government department ‘releasing’ my phone’s serial number, and the government was not working on Domingo, a Sunday.

Really? you mean I came all this way for nothing? I wandered around in the mall for a while. I even stood in a 2-person line at the KFC ice cream cone booth, waiting ever-so-patiently for my little treat. And that wait got even longer when a lady barged in right in front of me just before I was going to order, and when she was done and I was just standing there giving her the evil eye, and she motioned to me to just move ahead and order. What’s the matter with you? A good thing that I was a kind and polite Canadian, and that today is Domingo; I ordered my cheap little ice cream cone and headed back out to catch a bus going back home. I guess I’ll come back tomorrow.

When I got home, Naomi was having a delightful morning, painting at the kitchen table. I was hot, tired, and frustrated. So Naomi got right to work in the kitchen, making us a delicious lunch (Denver sandwiches, in case you’re interested). And after lunch she went out to the pool with her sketchpad. And I did Wordle.

There was some talk of going for a walk on the beach, but by the time Naomi had finished a few calls with friends and family, she declared that she was too hungry to do anything else. We headed to the food court at the next door mall and ate our supper (fried chicken and fries, in case you need to know) at an outdoor table. We stopped at the grocery store on our way home. (Man, beer is crazy cheap in Colombia.)

Back at the ranch, Naomi did a bit of laundry while I wrote this super-long blog post. But before I say goodnight, let me show you the interesting bag of nuts that Naomi bought today.

It’s the weekend and the flavour of things around here have changed. Rudy and I noticed it last night when we went out for an evening walk. The malacon was hopping and all the thousands (and this is hardly an exaggeration) of souvenir and trinket shops were open. It seems hardly possible that a person could make a living owning one of these shops. All the merchandise is exactly the same and who really wants this stuff. But I think I underestimate the desire for the average Colombian beachgoer for this type of memorabilia.

This morning when I went for a beach walk I was surprised to see who the beach goers were. Basically they are all Colombian. At least that is how it appeared to me although I did not interview even one of the hundreds I saw. Basically they were families. Whole families walked down the sidewalks toward the beach. Old grandmas and grandpas held the arms of the younger generation, some of them barely able to walk. It was delightful to see the elderly being led into the ocean and steadied in the waves by their people. Families built sandcastles. One young girl I passed had created an elaborate castle in which she had placed her barbie and her barbie’s boat.  Bathing costumes were varied. Body shapes were diverse. Everyone was in for the fun and it appeared to me that these Colombians really embraced a day at the beach.

Business was also brisk.  Vendors with fleets of huge blow up unicorns, mattresses, kayaks, and ancient paddle boats stood in the shallows, their merchandise  on leashes like dogs on a walk. Food vendors and vendors selling plastic pail and blow up life jackets and floaties walked the strip. And yes, the Colombians were buying.  I walked to the end of the beach strip and then it was getting hot so I returned home to make breakfast and then go for a dip in the pool.

The pool is my new favourite place and even though it is busy on the weekend it still is worth going for a swim.  The water is exactly the right temperature and it is glorious to immerse oneself.

Rudy went down to the beach in the evening to take some sunset pictures. The beach was still full with beach goers.

True to Central and South American culture, things were hopping last night, even in our own patio gardens. The music was loud, the laughter was exuberant, and it all carried on long past midnight. Lucky for us, Rudy and I both are not bothered by noise and we fell asleep to the sound of beats in the courtyard.