Sweaty Wednesday

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So, I just looked down at my shirt and noticed something I've never seen before (on me, anyway): boob stains.

I'm skeptical they're real (they might be implants?). I mean, I'm not very sweaty in general, and today hasn't been a sweaty day - I mean, every day is hot here, but I haven't been playing sports or anything, and I've spent most of the morning in my air conditioned room. Also, even in times of extreme sweatiness, I can't recall ever seeing isolated boob stains. Maybe a whole chest drench, but never the twins.

I just had a snack, so I suppose it's possible I somehow spilled in a very precise manner without noticing. But I dunno man, that's quite a coincidence. Maybe I'm just lactating.

Or maybe this is a turning point in my teaching career. Maybe this is the moment I become the stereotypical sweaty math teacher. Mr. Boobstain. Hey, it sounds better than Mr. Rutt.

Days of the Week

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Just a short post tonight, because it's 10:56 and I gotta sleep dudes and ladies! Anyway, I just thought up this post in the shower. Enjoy!

Oh, hey guys, one thing I just noticed: I messed up publishing yesterday's post - even though I hit the publish button yesterday, it appeared on the blog as if I had published on Sunday, before Sunday's entry. It's too bad, because I think a lot of you missed out on it, especially since it was the thrilling conclusion of a two-part story arc! So check it out!

The schedule at school is pretty bizarre. Here are the many ways in which it is bizarre:

1) periods are 45 minutes long, but sometimes they're double periods (i.e. 90 minutes). I have 2 short classes and 2 long classes per week with each of my 4 classes.

2) also, sometimes periods are 50 minutes and long ones are 100. I forget when that's the case.

3) on Tuesdays and Thursdays, there are mandatory extra-curriculars for the first hour, so school goes an hour longer than usual, so the periods are all out of wack.

4) there is absolutely no pattern from day to day, just an overall weekly schedule that is (fortunately) constant from week to week - that is a recent development.

5) "period" in Spanish must be "hora", because students refer to classes as hours. This is an Abbott and Costello-inspired conversation I have every day: "do we have 1 or 2 hours today?" "We have 1 and a half." You can fill in the rest.

This results in at least 3 students wandering up to the front to check the schedule every 2.3 seconds, so most of the words I say are "sidownchekschedlatr", a combination of many words I'm trying to say all at once, which I am forced to do because of the extremely high rate at which said students are approaching the board. It doesn't deter them.

Another result of this crazy schedule is the fact that every day is different for me. Now that I'm starting to get a feel for it, I've started to anticipate/dread certain days, and just now I came up with a ranking for how strenuous each of my days is.

Now, there are 2 factors that go into ranking the days. First, how many classes I have, and second, how many minutes of class do I have - because, remember, some classes are half as long as others. So, to combine these 2 factors, I decided the final quantitative ranking would be s = c • m, where:

s = stress level

c = number of classes

m = number of minutes

The results, ranked from most to least stressful:

1. Wednesday, 900 (4 classes, 1 long, 225 minutes)

2. Tuesday, 810 (3 classes, 3 long, 270 minutes)

3. Monday, 720 (4 classes, 0 long, 180 minutes)

4. Friday, 675 (3 classes, 2 long, 225 minutes)

5. Thursday, 360 (2 classes, 2 long, 180 minutes)

Now, there are other things I could take into account, like the 20 minutes of homeroom on Mondays, Wednesdays and Fridays, the extra hour I have to stay on Tuesdays and Thursdays, and the math club I have to run for an hour every other Tuesday, but I think I'm starting to nod off here. But one thing is clear: Thursday is the best day by a mile. And this Thursday is the best by an even milier mile, because for some reason the school hired a masseuse, and I'm getting a free massage at 8AM.

My First Riot, Part II

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Pre-requisite: My First Riot, Part I

So Doris Vespa was a little underwhelming, but still enjoyable. Hopefully I'll be blogging about them again, from a show not filled with metal-heads.

Speaking of which, the next band was the second metal band of the evening, and this time the cops were prepared. I guess a lot of people had decided not to jump the fence during the first band (or had jumped back over? I didn't see it, but that would have been hilarious, especially since it would have been way harder than jumping into the VIP section), but the cops mostly shut them down this time. They were relentless, though, and a few got through here and there.

Also, even though it didn't seem like the mosh pit was any more violent than it had been during Existential Hate, the organizers apparently thought so, and Vicious Circle was interrupted mid-set several times so that the attractive TV-personality-host-girls, with presumably-organizer-frumpy-old-dude leering over their shoulders, could tell the crowd to tone it down or things wouldn't end well. This is when things started to look like they wouldn't, in fact, end well (brilliant deduction, Inspector Xave) - chants broke out at various points in time throughout the breaks between songs, and it seemed like the chiding had antagonized the crowd even more. Nevertheless, Vicious Circle made it to the end of the set, and with no more metal bands on the horizon, things were looking up.

The next band, Rioba, was the one my co-worker MC works with, and they were billed as (i.e. she described them as) a reggae/ska band. On this night, they definitely leaned a bit more toward the ska end of the spectrum, perhaps learning from Doris Vespa's mistake, and it was definitely to their benefit. They were great. Fun music, high energy - they got the crowd into it just as much as the metal bands had. By far the best band of the night. Here's a picture of their 2 lead singers (aside: when I met MC before the show, she was carrying a broom. I asked her why, and she said she didn't know, the band had asked her to bring it. You can figure it out)

Ultimately, this ability to get the crowd into it proved to be their undoing. Or, not really their undoing, as they were able to finish their set, but the festival's undoing. At some point shortly after their set, critical mass was reached. I'm not sure how or why (I mean, I do, but I'm not sure why it didn't happen after Vicious Circle), but soon the fence between the VIP area and the ultra-VIP area (only for bands and those associated with the bands, like MC) was torn down.

Before

After

Astute readers will note that the "before" picture was taken from the Ultra-VIP side. I was one of the first ones through. Good rioting, Dave! Mad props.

Anyway, it wasn't a terribly violent riot. After the wall came down, there was a brief period of beer cans (it's a very good thing they weren't selling beer bottles) and other garbage being thrown at the hosts and organizers on stage, who were trying to calm everyone down to no avail. I don't think anyone was hurt, but I did see one of the host girls get beaned with someone that looked a little heavier than a beer can - luckily, she appeared to be fine.

After that, the concert was over, obviously, even though there was still one competitor left to play, and also the headlining act, a famous band from Bogotá called Aterciopelados who are too accomplished (seriously - look how long their english Wikipedia entry is!) to be eligible for the competition.

So, even though I've said a couple times I don't want to pass judgment on these kids (who am I, someone's dad?) for their musical taste, I will whole-heartedly pass judgment on them now. The riot was beyond stupid. You are willing to ruin a great event because you're not allowed to punch other people in the face? Get a grip. If you think you were somehow "sticking it to the man" by rebelling against the stodgy, middle-aged bigwigs of the event, think again. They're the ones sponsoring a music competition that is FREE TO ATTEND, which features bands who play THE KIND OF MUSIC THAT YOU LIKE, and all they were trying to do was ensure everyone's safety. Now, this is going to happen: 1) nobody will win the competition, because not every band got to play, so it would be unfair to declare a winner. 2) Maybe the prize money will be divided evenly, but who knows if anyone will get anything. And these are local, low-profile bands, and they could really use the prize money. 3) in all likelihood, this competition won't happen again, at least not for a couple years.

In the less immediate picture, this is a blow to the general music scene of Barranquilla. Local bands are the backbone of a great music city, and this festival was the kind of event that could bring a lot of positive exposure to Barranquilla bands. So much for that.

Anyway, after things settled down, people started to calmly (!) file out. I wandered around, and eventually found MC behind the stage with Rioba. We waited around for a while, and then decided it was time to call it a night. MC and her brother hopped in a cab and suggested I do the same, but I had one order of business remaining.

I had to get my belt back.

Despite the excitement of the music, the mosh pit and eventually the riot, the discomfort of my pants almost falling down for 5 hours (how did we do it in grade 4?!) had been at the forefront of my mind all night. MC had all but told me there was no way I was getting it back, but I was less hopeless. And sure enough: within 5 minutes of walking around the stadium I found a belt lady returning belts to their rightful owners. Each one had been tagged, so I found my belt quickly, and was soon in a cab on my way home, comfortable for the first time all night.

My First Riot, Part I

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I know what you're thinking, but this is not a children's story about an Irish lad going to his first soccer game. Nor is it a terrible memoir about the life-changing night when I met my heroes Quiet Riot.

No, My First Riot started out innocently enough. After attending a preliminary round of the Miche Rock Festival several weeks ago, I went to the finals on Friday night with some co-workers. There had been several preliminary rounds, with the top 2 bands from each making it to the final. I had enjoyed the one round I went to, so I thought the finals would be great! Well, they were great... they just didn't go as long as they were supposed to. But we'll get to that part later.

Before I take you inside, I have to tell you about the coat check. Coat check? What are you talking about, Xave? Isn't it like 32˚ every day? Why yes, Xave-pretending-to-be-a-reader, that is true. There wasn't a coat check - instead, there was a mandatory belt check! I had to give my belt to a chick, not at a station or anything, just a chick who walked around collecting all belts. Seemed like a scam, but she had lots of belts already, so I relented, even though I was wearing unfortunately-too-big-around-the-waste-or-maybe-I've-just-lost-weight? pants.

It was a pretty good sized crowd, as you can see. The grandstand was separated from the ground floor by a fence - both areas were free, but you needed a VIP pass to get onto the ground. A co-worker of mine does media work for one of the bands, so I had the good fortune of being in said VIP area.

The first couple bands were solid, if somewhat generic. They each had their moments, and I enjoyed both, and with the knowledge that a couple of awesome bands were coming later, I knew I was in for a great evening of music.

The stage

The third band was the first metal band of the evening, and obviously their name was Existential Hate.

I have to go off on a bit of a tangent here. Metal is extremely popular here, and clearly this came as a huge surprise to me. I think I've figured out why it's so popular, though: there are those who like the popular music of the region, which includes salsa, reggaeton, merengue, latin pop, and a couple of regional styles of music called vallenato and cumbia, and then there are those who reject the pop music. I'm sure this is not an unfamiliar concept. However, it seems like there is only one acceptable way to reject pop music, and that is to listen to anything hard: hard rock (lots of my students love AC/DC, Guns 'n Roses, Metallica, etc.), metal, death metal.

It's ironic, of course, that the very people who claim to reject conformity are so conformy themselves, but once again, this is nothing new, and I don't want to get into a whole commentary about it, because I really don't care that much - it's just an observation. The point is simply to paint you a picture of the crowd at this event - almost uniformly metal-heads. As someone who preferred the straight-up rock, reggae and ska bands, I felt like a bit of an outsider, despite the fact that these bands made up the majority of the show.

So anyway, as soon as Existential Hate was announced, people started teeming over the fence like despair over a German comedian in Israel. This is the best picture I got, but it was certainly not taken at the peak of the deluge.

There were too many people, and too few unprepared cops, for anything to be done, and soon there was a full-blown hockey-style mosh pit (where people just run and body-check each other - maybe this is just regular mosh pit? I don't know, I don't go to a lot of mosh pits). I didn't mind - it was easy to avoid by staying around the fringes, and it actually gave me some entertainment, since the band sucked.

Tangent time again: I don't listen to a lot of hard rock/metal, and I don't listen to any death metal, but I try to stay open - some of those bands are pretty good. I like Metallica, I like Dream Theater, I've liked other bands that I've heard here and there but couldn't name. But this band (and the one that came later, which was obviously called Vicious Circle (actually Circulo Vicioso, but you know)), just wasn't very good, and it really reinforced the notion that the whole metal thing around here is just another clique. Once again, I'm not passing judgment - I just think it's interesting.

After another straight-up rock band played (and played a pretty impressive cover of Led Zeppelin's Rock and Roll, with an amazing female singer), it was time for the band I was most excited about - the one K, E and I had all agreed was the best of the preliminary round we saw. They're a reggae band called Doris Vespa (you should click on that link just to look at their MySpace page - it's by far the most beautifully designed MySpace page I've ever seen) who are from right here, Barranquilla.

Doris Vespa was pretty good on Friday, but they didn't really live up to my expectations. After a number of high-energy acts, the laid back groove of their opening song didn't capture the crowd until about mid-way through, when they displayed a picture of Venezuelan president Hugo Chavez with an X through it, and repeated the line "we don't need no Chavez" or something to that effect several times. (that was awesome, though)

Even though they didn't impressa me much, I remain a fan. They have a great guitar player (shown below), and really cool instrumentation: drums, bass, auxiliary percussion, guitar, trumpet, flute, 2 back-up singer chicks. Also: their lead singer is the Colombian Patrick. (see the MySpace page for further evidence, as this isn't a great pic)

Eschuchen, señoras!

the guitarist - hmm, he's skinny, plays guitar and has a lot of hair... Colombian Adam?

I don't see any bacon though...

When the next band came on, things got a little rougher. But you'll have to come back tomorrow to find out about it! Stay tuned - tomorrow, Xave's Xlog presents My First Riot, Part II.

Kicked in the Nuts

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Most Fridays, the teachers at school get a soccer game going after school. I've participated three times so far - the first time was just teachers, 5 on 5, the second time was a bigger game, teachers vs. janitors, 7 on 7 on an expanded "pitch" (more of a court), and today was the third match, this time teachers vs. students from grades 10 and 12, 6 on 6.

(Today's match also happened to be much earlier than usual, because of a school-wide power outage (not the first time this year) which started around 8:30, and by the time it was back on at 12:30, the students had gone home early.)

I look forward to these matches every week - as most of you probably know, I love to play sports, and this is the only regularly scheduled sport I've got going on right now. One week I even stayed like half an hour after school in expectation, only to discover everyone else had left.

Now, in week 1 I was pretty bad. I mean, I'm a decent athlete, but I don't play soccer very often - I don't think I had played in 2 or 3 years, and when I have played it's usually been smaller games, like 2 on 2 or 3 on 3, with friends who are equally inexperienced.

Let me tell you, Colombians are great at soccer! I'm sure that doesn't come as a surprise, but it really is amazing how every single kid here (I am not exaggerating, at least with respect to the boys in my grade 8 classes, all of whom I've seen play) knows the game quite well, and even though you're always bound to find a spectrum of athleticism and coordination, every kid somehow makes it work and is pretty darn good.

So when it came time to lace 'em up in game 1, I quickly discovered that being able to run fast and kick the ball hard have almost nothing to do with playing soccer. I lacked that inate sense of the game that one only gains through experience.

By game 3 (today), though, I made some progress. Actually, that's a bit of an understatement - of our team's 10 goals, I scored 4 and assisted 2. Of course, what that actually means is that, on four separate occasions, I happened to be standing in front of the net when the ball magically appeared at my foot, and two other times I accidentally tripped over the ball, causing it to somehow ricochet in the general direction of a teammate, who made some amazing play and scored.

I really do notice the improvement, though. Especially in the area of not making idiotic mistakes and losing the ball because of accidentally kicking the air instead of the ball and then pulling a cartoon-feet-up-in-the-air fall.

I still have a long way to go, though. There are lots of skills I can't perform, and instincts I haven't developed. For example, today there was a ball that found its way into the air and was coming down near where I was. Taking the ball on the body and then subsequently gaining control of it is one skill I've developed somewhat reasonably, so this is what I attempted to do.

Unfortunately, the choice of what part of the body to block the ball with is not an instinct I have, apparently. You know what's coming. I went to stop the ball's flight with my crotchal region, while an opponent simultaneously went for the mid-air kick. The good news: I got to the ball before he did. The bad news: He got to the balls before I did. It was hard, and it was not in the least off-center. Kicked in the nuts!

This kid knows what I'm talking about.

You Know What's the Worst?

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When the phone rings in the other room and then you have to run to grab it because it's on silent mode and you only barely heard it meaning it might already have been ringing for a while and so because you're running you stub your baby toe and it hurts for a couple minutes but it's actually not that bad but then a week later you realize it still hurts so maybe you should get it looked at so then the school nurse wraps it up the result of which is that it hurts much more than it did before it got treated and then you have to walk with a limp for the rest of the day and because walking with a limp is an unnatural motion you wake up the next day with a pulled muscle in your leg because of the limping.

Man, it happens to me ALL THE TIME.

Today is a Good Day I Think For Some Blogging

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...to paraphrase the immortal T-Rex.

In reality, today is just a good day in general, not only for blogging. For existing, I guess!

Why, you ask? Well, there are several reasons.

First, today I got a battery! No, I don't have an Energizer Bunny fetish. It wasn't just any battery; it was a battery for the pick-up in my new guitar! Now I can plug it in to the speakers that K graciously gave me, and I basically have an amp. In fact, I was so happy that I could amplify that I made up a song! Have a listen!

Sorry if you were expecting something different based on the photos.

The second thing that is great about today is very similar to the first! In the same shopping trip in which I bought the aforementioned battery, I also finally got around to buying a cord that can connect my computer/iPod to the speakers. Only, I got the wrong cord, and had to run back on a second trip, but it all worked out, and I am now the proud owner of a brand new headphone jack -> stereo converter, as well as a brand new completely superfluous other cord.

Check out all my new technology!

The next piece of good news is probably the one I'd been waiting the longest for. On the night I moved into my apartment, I had a terrible sleep, for 2 reasons: first, my pillow was very thick (I'm a thin pillow guy) - I've since fixed that problem by cutting open my pillow and ripping out about half the fluff. Second, my mattress was way too soft - unsleepably soft. Since that first night, I've been sleeping on a tiny mattress that was under the main mattress of my guest room bed, placed on the floor beside my actual bed frame.

Well, today I finally got a new mattress! Check it out, with my old sleeping arrangement beside:

Lastly, today I played baseball for the first time in like 2 months! It wasn't exactly what I'm used to when I go out for some ball - among the people I was playing with was a 5 year old, so I wasn't exactly dialing my fastball up to 65 or launching moonshots over the infield, but it was something. And it felt great.

Today wasn't all great, though. I went to the school nurse because my baby toe was in pain - about a week ago I stubbed it, and though it hurt a lot for a couple minutes, I didn't think much of it until I realized today that it still hurt despite being a week later. The nurse wrapped it and the toddler toe in a bandage and told me to shower with a bag on my foot (let's be honest, that's gonna be fun) while keeping it on for 3 days. Hopefully it heals - but while it's healing, it hurts a lot more than it did before. When she first wrapped it I had to walk with a noticeable limp for a couple hours, and though it's somewhat better now, it's still a lot more painful than it was before the treatment.

Also: the nurse did a great job of wrapping the toes in skin-coloured bandage, so it looks like I have some sort of weird, huge hybrid toe on my right foot. Look:

I was concerned about wearing my sandals when I went shopping for the cords, since I assumed people wouldn't be able to stop staring at my freak four-toed foot, and then would assume that all Canadians had this deformity, and I didn't want to give you guys that unfair reputation! But never fear, it turns out my baby toe doesn't come out at the top of the sandal.

Oh yeah, one other not as great thing that happened today: I picked up some food from the local corner store, and upon arriving in my kitchen, discovered the hard way that one bag of pasta was already open.

Yes, that's 3 different vertical layers of pasta spillage. Oh well. Pasta Mañana, blog readers! chuckle chuckle chuckle chuckle chuckle

Colombiana Part I

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This was one of my first ideas for a blog post when I started Colombia Blogging, and I thought it would become a frequent feature - a random collection of little differences I've noticed. It's not that there aren't tons of them, I guess I just a) keep forgetting to write them down, b) incorporate them into other posts or c) in certain area, like public transportation and technology, there are so many little differences that I'm going to eventually make them their own posts. Anyway, on a Monday after 7 days of intense Taganga Blogging, I didn't feel like putting much thought into the old Xlog, so I turned to a half-finished post. Here's hoping I can think of enough to finish the rest.

Without further ado, 10 peculiarities of Colombia! Or, at least, 10 things that seem peculiar after living in Canada for 22 years.

• In baseball broadcasts, they write a player's game-record backwards! I just saw "Melky Cabrera - Esta Noche - 3-0". 3 hits in no at bats... nice work, Melky.

• The website of the Colombian soccer league (which is called Copa Mustang, or Mustang Cup, sponsored by Mustang cigarettes - there are a couple interesting differences here, first that a major sports championship is named after a corporate sponsor, as opposed to the World Series or Stanley Cup, though I guess golf has the whole corporate sponsor thing going too, so it's not a huge difference, but secondly that the corporate sponsor is a tobacco company) requires you to enter your age. Apparently, you must be 18+ to view the standings, stats, etc... I have no idea why.

• The 2-L coke bottles are bigger! That sentence doesn't make any sense. The 2-L coke bottles are not bigger. There aren't any 2-L coke bottles. There are 2.5-L coke bottles though.

• Speaking of pop, apple pop is pretty common (it's red... other than that, no word on what type of apple is used). I've had apple pop before, it's just a lot more common here.

• There are a lot of mimes here. Or maybe there's just one who I see every day because he's always at the same intersection between my house and the bus stop. Also, there was one at school day for World Peace Day (umm, because if you can't talk, you can't fight?). But they're not really mimes: they have this weird little squeaky thing that sounds like a super fast forwarded voice, so they pretend to talk and then squeak instead. I've had a couple of squeaking conversations which have probably been better understood by both parties than most of my actual conversations around here.

• As I've blogged about before, there is no shortage of huge Wal-Mart like superstores (there are 2 in the mall 3 blocks from my apartment), and this is where I did most of my initial shopping, but as I've gotten to know the city better, I've discovered that there are smaller general stores, called tiendas, everywhere. And the great thing about tiendas (not that I've taken advantage of it) is that you can order anything for delivery, for about 3 bucks.

• The question of whether Colombia is significantly cheaper than Canada is trickier than you might think. Certain things, like rent (in my part of the city at least), utilities, fast food restaurants, and some groceries, are about the same, while others, like transportation, other groceries, and street food, are way cheaper.

• E already blogged about this, but you can pay bills at supermarkets.

• I'm sure this doesn't come as a surprise to you, but there is a most definite lack of recycling. You see it every now and then in modern-ish buildings, but there isn't any at my building, at the school, and certainly not on the street.

• Related to the last one, there is definitely no garbage limit (at my building, when you have garbage to rid yourself of, you just take it out to a huge dumpster outside which isn't even part of the building - just a public dumpster I guess), but despite this ability to put as much as you want in the designated garbage bins, there's still trash lying everywhere.

Okay, that's 10 I think! Sorry for the lack of witty commentary on most of these. I used my entire wit quota for the day during class today when I turned my triangle-shaped ruler into a gun and pretend-shot all my kids as they came in. It was awesome.

Taganga Episode VII: Wrap-Up

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This week is "Taganga Week" at Xave's Xlog. Check it out:

Taganga Episode I: The Trailer

Taganga Episode II: The Town

Taganga Episode III: Wildlife

Taganga Episode IV: Cacti

Taganga Episode V: Sunday

Taganga Episode VI: The Recovery

What a week at the old Xlog! How did I stretch one weekend out of town into 7 full days of blogging, you ask? Well, it takes a special talent. I just have a knack for finding the boring in everything. Anyway, today's post is devoted to mentioning smaller things that weren't worthy of their own full post.

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I don't eat fish. Or any seafood. The reason is simply that I don't like it. However, I've never liked seafood, so I eat it so rarely I don't even know what some things taste like. Therefore, I've made it my mission to try some seafood while I'm living on a coast. So, on Saturday night, I had this for dinner:

This is a very common meal 'round these parts: fish (I don't know what kind), with lime to squeeze on top, coconut rice, patacones (fried green plantains - green meaning they're not sweet plantains), and a salad consisting mostly of lettuce and onions.

And at the risk of sounding totally cliché, it wasn't that bad! I almost ate the whole fish. I probably ate parts I wasn't supposed to eat, too.

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Anticipating I would do some hiking while in Taganga, I brought my running shoes along in addition to my sandals. But I forgot to bring socks. Good work, Dave. So, as it turns out, climbing a steep foothill with no paths while wearing sandals isn't the greatest idea. There were several occasions in which I nearly became an avalanche. H

Speaking of avalanches, here's a formation I found which I assumed to be the work of avalanches.

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I had a fun time getting home on Sunday. First I took a small bus from Taganga to Santa Marta, followed by a moto-taxi to the bus terminal in Santa Marta, followed by an inter-city bus to Barranquilla. All of these things were documented yesterday.

That wasn't the end of the journey, though. After retrieving my iPod, I was determined to figure out how to take the bus back to my part of Barranquilla rather than paying for a more expensive taxi. This proved difficult, as I got wildly varying opinions from the locals.

After a cat and mouse game of seeing the bus go by on the other side of the street and going to that side only to watch a bus zip by where I had just been standing, I decided to see how much the moto would cost. The first guy I asked flat out refused to go to where I wanted to go. The second guy quoted a price that was almost as high as taking a cab. Soon, I somehow found myself among a group moto drivers, asking all of them simultaneously if they would take me where I wanted to go at the price I wanted to pay. This was an unproductive bargaining session, because I just kept saying my price, and I'm pretty sure their response was something completely incongruous. Here is how the conversation might have gone (honestly, I have no idea):

Me: I need to go to Buena Vista.

Them: We don't go to Buena Vista.

Me: How about 5000 (pesos)?

Them: That's way lower than we would accept, even if we did drive people to Buena Vista. Generally, if you're trying to convince someone to perform a service for you that is outside of their regular duties, it's not a good idea to make your offer less attractive in an attempt to convince them to perform said service.

Me: What if I paid you 5000?

Them: You already said that.

Me: 5000? Yes? No?

Them (to each other): Maybe he means 5000 dollars? I wouldn't put it past this guy to actually pay us 5000 dollars.

Me: Do you go to Buena Vista? What about for 5000?

One of Them: okay, just get on, I'll take you to, umm, Buena Vista, yeah, haha, that's right. Cough.

Me: 5000, right?

That Guy: yeah, um, right.

So anyway, That Guy drove me a few blocks (for 2000 - $1), and then waited with me for, I assumed, a bus. Turned out he was waiting for a new form of transportation I hadn't even been on yet - a taxi with a little trailer on the back of it, and several people already in the taxi, so it was really carrying like 8 people. The moto guy said something to the driver, so I assumed I'd be taken to Buena Vista.

Nope. I got about halfway there, but not before one of the guys in the trailer almost got in a fight with the driver over, well, I have no idea, obviously. But I did exchange eye rolls with the guy beside me. Even if I didn't know what was going on, I played the social situation to a tee. Smooth, Dave.

Anyway, I had no idea where I was when the cab driver told me he wasn't going any farther (i.e. when he kicked me out), so I just found a cab, which was the thing I was trying to avoid in the first place.

In the end, in getting from door to door, I took a small bus, a moto, a big bus, another moto, a shared taxi, and a private taxi. 6 things! That's a lot.

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E and K (twice) both blogged about Taganga, so if you just haven't gotten enough over the past seven days and 8 million words here at XX, check them out. We didn't spend much time together over the weekend, so they have lots of different stuff.

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This isn't Taganga-related, but sometime in the last couple days, the little visitor counter on the right side (if you scroll down) crossed the 1000 mark! Sweet, thanks guys! (And that's just 1000 since I installed the counter, which was 3 or 4 weeks ago.) I'm sure most of those are mom and me though.

Also, after a 2 or 3 week absence, I finally got internet at home today. So that means lots more bloggggggg!

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Finally, here are some more pictures from Taganga.

Upon climbing the foothills beside Taganga, I was amazed to discover I could see Santa Marta. I suppose I shouldn't have been so surprised since I knew it was only about 5km away, but I was so disoriented when we arrived I had no idea which direction we had come from, so suddenly seeing a huge city just over the hills was a pretty startling sight.

It thought this house looked like Lego.

A shot of Taganga from above.

A cool tree.

Triangle hills.

Taganga Episode VI: The Recovery

Note - this blog is automatically imported into facebook, but unfortunately it loses some formatting in the process. Click here to visit the real thing.

This week is "Taganga Week" at Xave's Xlog. Check it out:

Taganga Episode I: The Trailer

Taganga Episode II: The Town

Taganga Episode III: Wildlife

Taganga Episode IV: Cacti

Taganga Episode V: Sunday

After Sunday's activities I took a quick swim in the hostel pool, then packed up my stuff and headed out in search of a bus stop. I quickly found myself on a little van bus, sitting in a seat directly next to the door which stayed open (or didn't exist?) throughout the winding, somewhat mountainous drive back to Santa Marta. Eventually, after everyone else had exodused, the bus driver told me to get off, assuring me the bus station was nearby, and I'd just have to take a cheap moto-taxi. I had never taken one before, but it was fast, and fun, and soon I was on a bus back to Barranquilla. (note: these buses have air conditioning, a TV constantly going, and drinks/snacks available, and cost less than a $5, and this is a 2 hour trip we're talking about. Greyhound could learn a thing or two)

After watching the news cycle a couple of times, I got bored, despite the fact that I probably needed a few more watches to understand what was going on, so I got out my iPod which I had brought along precisely for this situation. In the summer, I discovered eBooks on my iPod, so I flipped open to my current iPod book (I do most of my reading on my computer, so I've got 2 books going simultaneously - the iPod one is more of a long-term effort since I don't use it often), Les Miserables. I read for most of the trip, but as we entered Barranquilla I set it down so I could try to figure out where we were/where to get off.

Of course, I should have realized that since the bus comes into a part of the city I am totally unfamiliar with, my decision about when to get off would likely be spur of the moment, triggered by the first thing I recognize. This is exactly what happened, and as you can probably guess, I left my iPod sitting right there on the seat.

Naturally, I didn't realize what I had done at first since I was pre-occupied trying to figure out where the bus back to my part of the city stopped. Eventually I figured out the guys were telling me I was in the right place, I just might have to wait a few minutes since it was Sunday night, hence infrequent service.

(I could have just taken a taxi and avoided all this hassle, but buses are cheaper, and I like taking them anyway, I find it's one of the best ways to learn a city. In the end, it's a very good thing I didn't hop in the first taxi I found.)

That's when I remembered the last place I had put my iPod.

I panicked, but when I looked down the street, the bus was, miraculously, still within eyeshot. So I started sprinting after it as it pulled away from the curb and turned onto some sort of on-ramp. I followed the bus' future path and discovered it was about to a complete 180 on a sort of cloverleaf construction. I still had hope! I could simply run across and cut the bus off.

Unfortunately, it was a little too quick - I shouted and waved, but wasn't quite at the other side when the bus passed in front of me. Once again, I didn't give up - I looked to where the bus was headed next in hopes that I could attempt a similar maneuver.

This time, though, the outlook was bleak. There was no cloverleaf, and no bus stop that I could see nearby. It was on a fairly major street, too, with little traffic. It looked like it would just blast straight down the road, into the horizon, and out of my hopes and dreams.

I kept going in the bus' direction, but slowed to a walk, having given up. I half-heartedly checked my bag just to make sure I hadn't subconsciously thrown it in there in my haste to get off the bus, but I knew in my heart (well, really in my head) that the search was fruitless. It was over: the hardly used iPod Touch I had been given by a friend this past summer was gone forever.

But then, I saw the bus stop some 200m ahead of me. Once again, I broke into a dead run, and this time, luckily, whatever the bus had stopped for was taking its sweet time, and I managed to catch up before it headed off again! Relief swept over me like a broom over a floor (get it?).

But when I returned to my seat, there was nothing there. I turned to the girls across the aisle to ask them if they had seen anything, but all I could do in my panicky state was attempt to translate sign language into Spanish, which resulted in confused stares.

Just then, the bus operator (different from bus driver) emerged from the cabin (yeah) and handed me the iPod.

Success! I had left something valuable on a bus, and knowing there was likely no other way of retrieving it, had literally chased the bus down. Nice work, Dave. Tu eres el hombre. (As you can probably guess, this translates to 'you are the man', which isn't a thing in Spanish, but I'm trying to get in the habit of directly translating English slang into Spanish, because it's fun)

Taganga Episode V: Sunday

Note - this blog is automatically imported into facebook, but unfortunately it loses some formatting in the process. Click here to visit the real thing.

This week is "Taganga Week" at Xave's Xlog. Check it out:

Taganga Episode I: The Trailer

Taganga Episode II: The Town

Taganga Episode III: Wildlife

Taganga Episode IV: Cacti

Upon arriving at my hostel last Friday, the owner informed us (the two American guys, John and Brian, I had met on the bus, and me) that he organized trips into nearby Tayrona National Park every couple days. He explained that his trips went in by boat, and because we were sneaking around the back, we didn't have to pay the park entrance fee of $32,000 pesos (16 bucks), or the cost of transportation into the park. In addition, the day included fishing, snorkeling, wakeboarding, breakfast and a BBQ lunch. The total cost was $90,000, so after mulling it over for a few seconds, we figured it was worth the extra 29 bucks for all those activities and meals and fun times! We found a couple more hostelers interested on Saturday, so on Sunday morning the 8 of us (the 5 guests, the owner Santiago, his 9ish year old son Santiago (Santi), and a teenager Santiago is training to run these trips whose name I forget), headed out for a day of awesome.

I'm on a boat, mother f***er!

After a 15 minute boat ride and a bit of unsuccessful fishing (which was to be expected, though I was kind of disappointed, because on Saturday the Santiago trip had returned with a fish that was seriously like THIS BIG (I'm holding my arms up really wide right now)), we arrived at our almost-private cove. First we had to pay off the other dudes who (work? live?) in the cove with several huge jugs of water (a precious resource when you're surrounded by salt water, I guess) (just to be clear, we paid off the guys with water, the guys don't live with water. Confusing grammar, sorry). I didn't get a great photo of the exchange, but it's something:

And here are a couple photos of the cove:

After the bribe, we headed across to the other side of the bay and set up camp. John, Brian and the Filipino woman whose name I forget headed out for snorkeling. The Irish guy whose name I also forget and I stayed back because there was only enough gear for 3 people. So we took that opportunity to eat our breakfast of sandwiches, fruit, chips and many other little things:

After breakfast, Santiago suggested we go check out the natural salt mine nearby (nearby turned out to mean like less than a 100 meters away). Here's what it looks like:

When we got there, Santi (i.e. little Santiago) dared us to step in the pink stuff (objects in picture are pinker then they appear). Turns out, under the white and pink surface is extremely thick mud:

Also, it was incredibly hot! For the second day in a row I pulled a jumping around going ow-ow-ow-ow-ow-ow. Note: the first time we went we weren't wearing shoes. The above pictures are from the second trip.

The second time, Santi decided it would be a good idea to actually cross the salt mine, because there was a path to the beach on the other side. I had worn shoes, so I didn't object. Irishguy did, after watching me run across the first part in quite a bit of pain despite the sandals. So he headed back, but Santi was all for it. Since he wasn't wearing shoes, he instructed me to catch him at the end of his run:

For the rest of the trip we skirted around the outside, avoiding all the intense foot heat. We came out several hundred meters down the beach, and on the way back Santi caught a crab by digging it out of its hole. Coolest kid ever.

Crab Series #4: Santi-y

Sandwiched between our salt mine trips, it had been our turn to snorkel. Oh, and I forgot to mention: our time snorkeling included the use of a spear-fishing gun. This is me practicing my technique:

Because that's the stance you normally use when in water with a snorkel shooting at fish.

Anyway, I was unsuccessful at the spear-fishing, as was Irishguy, but Santi, once again, re-affirmed his status as coolest kid ever.

The last activity before lunch was wake-boarding. I had never wake-boarded before, but it couldn't be that hard, right? Well, this is probably the closest I ever got to succeeding:

Also: it is really hard work. I only tried 5 times, and my arms are still sore. It is now Friday, and this was on Sunday. It could just be that wake-boarding uses muscles I never use (bottom of your forearm - I don't even know what to call that). Anyway, nobody else (including Santi) got up either, so I didn't feel too pathetic.

After a BBQ lunch of steak, chorizo sausage, chips and other stuff, we headed out, tried a bit more fishing, and then went over to one of the main camp sites of Tayrona to drop off John, Brian and Filipinochick. On the way, we saw flying fish! I'm not sure I've ever seen flying fish before, but they are so weird.

Anyway, I don't have much to tell about the Tayrona site - yesterday I showed you a couple picture of animals I saw there, and that was about all I did. But here's a nice picture:

Before we go, just a couple more quick words on Santi. That kid could do everything. He drove the boat, he set up the fishing lines, he caught crabs, he shot a fish, he even spoke pretty decent English (I'm assuming he doesn't go to an English school given the size of Taganga). Obviously it helps when your dad does all that stuff for a living, but still, he was a very impressive grade 5.

Anyway, it was a great day. I guess it goes to show that when you travel, don't over-plan. I didn't know the hostel offered these day trips - hell, I didn't even know what hostel I was staying at. We just asked the cab driver to take us to a hostel. If I had set a detailed itinerary, I wouldn't have done all this fun stuff. Alright, later!

Taganga Episode IV: Cacti

Note - this blog is automatically imported into facebook, but unfortunately it loses some formatting in the process. Click here to visit the real thing.

This week is "Taganga Week" at Xave's Xlog. Check it out:

Taganga Episode I: The Trailer

Taganga Episode II: The Town

Taganga Episode III: Wildlife

As I mentioned yesterday, on Saturday I decided to go for a hike in the Sierra Nevada de Santa Marta - one of the many mountain ranges in the world called Sierra Nevada (it translates to "snow covered mountain range"). It's the highest coastal mountain range in the world, reaching an altitude of about 5700m, though that part is a little more inland. Here's a view of the foothills surrounding Taganga.

There certainly weren't any official trails, and the trails that did exist, presumably used by locals for everyday life, which includes leading their pack animals around, as I surmised by all the 

around, were few and far between. It was pretty exhausting in the 30˚ heat, but luckily it was a cloudy day, making the temperature a little more bearable. I saw lots of great animals, and also some excellent scenery. Including cacti. Look at all the cacti!

There is a dude in this cacti! Look in the middle. He must not have been comfortable. But he must have also been like "dude, I'm sitting on a cactus, this makes me a MAN." Maybe it's a rite of passage around here.

This looks like a cactus and a stick got in a fight and then at the end they got their clothes tangled up and now it's just awkward.

Aww, a baby cactus! I wonder what its first words were. Probably "guys, this is a really painful existence. I would not recommend being a cactus"

This is a cactus that I sat on. Obviously, this caused my butt to suddenly expand to 8 times its normal size, caused me to instantly leap 3 meters in the air while my legs made a fast running motion in the air, yell "ow-ow-ow-ow-ow-ow-owwwwwwww" and then upon landing run around in circles until I found a pond where I extinguished my butt which was suddenly also on fire for some reason.

A cactus farm! I think that every morning the farmers get up at first light and milk the cacti. This is why there is such a high rate of hand injury among Colombian farmers. This is also why all the milk in Colombia is green. (the milk in Colombia is not green.)

Okay, that's all the cactus pictures/stories I have. Seeya tomorrow for Taganga Episode V: The Empire Strikes Back. Or something.