Fritos and Frutas

In Barranquilla, you never run the risk of going hungry. Restaurants and snack stands are never more than ten feet away. You’re likely to see a restaurant on every corner advertising the daily corriente, a filling meal of soup, meat, rice, plantains, salad and a drink that goes for about $2.50.

Also readily available is a wide selection of fritos, not as in The Frito Bandito, but a variety of fried victuals including empanadas, arepas, and deditos. Arepas are an essential part of the Colombian diet, and they come in many varieties. Here on the coast, the preferred arepa has egg inside.



My favorite item on the Colombian menu, however, is the jugo—juice. Jugos are a blend of fresh tropical fruta, water or milk, and a generous dose of sugar. One of my goals for my year here is to sample as many types of jugo as possible. Here’s my list so far:

• Lulo (a fruit native only to Colombia—I don’t know if it has an English name)
• Mango
• Fresa (strawberry)
• Mora (blackberry)
• Feijoa (I don’t know the English term for this one either)
• Maracuyá (passionfruit)
• Piña (pineapple)
• Papaya
• Guanabana (don’t know the translation)
• Tomate de árbol (translated as tree tomato, but it tastes nothing like tomato)
• Guayaba (guava)
• Tamarindo (tamarind)
• Maíz (corn)



Not too shabby for just two weeks into my trip. But that’s not even scratching the surface…

Immersion

Almost two weeks after arriving in Colombia, I’ve had my first few days of total immersion. This is what I wanted: To be surrounded by Spanish and by Latin American culture. Now I’ve got it, and it’s both exciting and draining.

As much as I love being around other languages and cultures, I’m finding that adjusting to life abroad is harder than I expected. Unlike other times I’ve traveled, I’m truly “alone” in this: the only gringa in my home, university, and community thus far [with the exception of Maureen, the other Fulbrighter in Barranquilla who is assigned to a different university]. It’s exciting to hear and speak Spanish all day…but I’m finding that I also feel isolated. Though I can communicate well in Spanish, most of my conversations are neither the superficial chatter of daily life (think about how much of nothing we talk about with the person sitting beside us, in line, etc.) nor the deeper, “real” issues. Beyond spoken language, I wonder how many non-verbal faux pas I commit each day. But even though I can’t picture it now, I know the day will come soon enough when I can communicate more easily, get around the city, a have somewhat of a routine.

Soon after arriving home from Bogotá last Friday, I met up with a friend (of a friend) who I have been communicating with online as I’ve been preparing to come to Barranquilla. Her name is Eileen, and she’s one of the student leaders of Campus Crusade for Christ at UA (my university). She invited me to spend the night at her house on Friday night and to join her mom and friends on a trip to Cartagena on Saturday and Sunday. Let’s just say that this past weekend was a dive right into the heart of Colombian culture. After meeting at the mall, Eileen, her sister, friend and I took the bus to her house, which turned out to be about 45 minutes outside of the city. Flying down the highway in a crowded bus, I took in the scene around me: a little old man with a wad of bills in his hand shouts “Raise your hand if you haven’t paid yet!” (talk about using the honor system).The interior of the bus is decked out in gaudy, fringed red curtains, blinking lights, decals of Jesus and a nude silhouette. Vallenato music pours out of the radio. When the money-taker calls out “Palmarito!” our group gets off the bus and crosses the pitch-dark road to Eileen’s house. A five-minute walk from the beach, the little house where Eileen and her mom live consists of one large room with a corner dedicated to the kitchen, a bathroom, and a porch with two big hammocks. Eileen had told me that her house has been like a hostal lately, with many friends staying there. I joined the group, making 10 of us stretched out on beds and mattresses in the one room. That night we had dinner at about 10:30, played UNO, and went to bed [typical of Colombian hospitality, I was given the best bed].

On Saturday morning, Ginette (Eileen’s mom), Christian (an Ecuadorian friend staying with them) and I caught a bus to Cartagena. An hour later, we arrived at the apartment of Ginette’s cousin, who lives in the perfect location: across the street from the beach and a few blocks from the historic walled city. On Saturday we saw the key tourist sites: the walled city dating back to the colonial period, San Felipe fortress, the Inquisition Museum, the house of Rafael Nuñez (a Colombian president during the 19th century). In the late afternoon we went for a swim in the Caribbean and watched the sun set (it’s dark by 6:30 here—we’re near the equator). After dinner we ventured out again. The old city was lit up, and horse carriages filled the streets. On Sunday, after walking through Manga (another historic neighborhood) and strolling on the beach, we caught a bus back to Barranquilla.

This week I’ve gotten thrown right into life at a Colombian public university. On Monday morning I came to campus to figure out my responsibilities as an ETA. I met with the registrar to create my schedule and observed a class taught by my tutor (mentor), Henry Granfield (he’s Colombian…with a name like that, I was expecting a Brit). Turns out I’m not really going to be an ETA (English Teaching Assistant) but rather a full-fledged profesora, teaching university-level courses on my own! In addition to teaching two courses (one is 4 hours a week, the other is 6 hours per week), I’m offering two English Clubs each week in order to give students (from any major) an opportunity to practice communication informally. I’m also taking a course on Spanish Phonetics & Phonology. It meets Wednesday mornings from 6:30-9:30. I’m writing this blog as I sit here at 8:35 and the professor hasn’t arrived yet…

Yesterday I taught my first class: a language and culture class for 8th semester English majors (it takes 10 semesters to complete a degree here). I really enjoyed the class yesterday. There were ten students (I’m sure there will be more over time, but things start gradually here). As I didn’t have the textbook yet (or even know what it was…neither did the students!) we did some introductory activities. During my final semester at Lee, I took a course called Capstone that all foreign language majors take. One of the books we read is called The Gift of the Stranger and it explores the idea of using a foreign language to serve and bless other people, whether we are the “stranger” abroad or are in our home country with “strangers” among us. I was thrilled to be able to incorporate this topic that was very influential for me last year in my advanced class yesterday. After having students list on the board all the reasons they could think of for studying a language (to improve their resume, to network, to talk to people from another country, to study abroad, etc.) I had them decide and make note of who benefited from each of those reasons. We discovered that most of our motivations for studying a language are self-centered, whether it’s to advance a career or be more well-rounded. As I shared with the students, it isn’t wrong to desire those results of speaking another language, but there is another side of the coin: speaking a foreign language is a great tool for serving and blessing other people. I had them think about this quote by Calvin Seerfield, describing the message we can convey by learning a foreign language, “I want to meet you, to connect and communicate with you; I want to hear your voice; I want to know what it is like to be you in your culture…To learn a different language is an act of love.” It seemed to be an eye-opener for them to view language from this perspective. For homework last night I had them write a response to what we talked about, and I’m looking forward to reading their thoughts.

Thanks for bearing with me with this long blog. It’s been a full few days, but I’m hoping that now that I’m done with orientation and beginning my job here at Uniatlántico, I’ll begin to feel a little more settled and get into the “groove.”

Adjusting...

Living in a culture that is not my own necessitates making all sorts of adjustments. Some are fairly easy: remembering to not flush the toilet paper, keeping track of zeros as I learn to think in pesos rather than dollars…Others fall in the middle of the spectrum: eating chicken hearts and gizzards, knowing whether I’m getting ripped off by taxi drivers…And some are just plain tough. The biggest choque (clash) occurs when a time-oriented, disciplined, schedule-loving American like myself decides to live in Carribbean Latin America. Here, “laid-back” takes on a whole new meaning. Arriving at 9:30 (at the earliest) for a 9:00 appointment is the norm. Cooking and serving a meal can easily be a two-hour process. And in response to my question, “So, did classes start this week?” the answer was “more or less.” [Case in point: the classes I’m teaching are beginning over a week after the start of the semester]. In addition to the slower pace of life, plans can be thrown out the window without a moment’s notice if, say, the rain turns the streets into arroyos (rivers) or workers decide to go on strike. But the costeño pace, although frustrating to me at times, makes for a friendly, lively, helpful group of people. A meal with a friend isn’t crammed into a 45-minute space in one’s schedule; relationships take priority over punctuality. It’s going to take me awhile to adapt to this facet of the culture, to be tranquila rather than stress out. I’ll begin with the fact that I just today received my class schedule, and tomorrow I have to teach my first class. Off to start planning…

Getting Oriented

I’m back “home” in Barranquilla after spending six days in Bogotá for orientation with the rest of the Colombia Fulbrighters. It was a great week: we were spoiled with a swanky hotel and three free meals a day; our meeting days were jam-packed but we also had some chances to explore Bogotá; and the highlight was spending time with the other Fulbrighters and sharing the excitement of our upcoming year.

Whereas our orientation in D.C. primarily focused on English teaching methods, this week’s seminars were geared to the context of living in Colombia. An American Embassy representative gave us a lecture on safety protocols to follow in a country where armed conflict is occurring. The Minister of Education of Colombia enlightened us on the education system and its bilingual program [apparently by the time most Colombian students graduate from high school, their English conversation skills are limited to the verb “to be.” We’ve got our jobs cut out for us]. An ex-Fulbrighter gave a talk on culture shock and adapting to Colombian customs. We heard a presentation on the demographics, food, music and festivals of the various regions of Colombia [I want to visit ALL of them!]. The Fulbright staff filled us in on the process to receive a visa and Colombian ID card, etc. etc. The days were long but we gained a lot of valuable information.

On Thursday we were given a tour of the city, which included a visit to the Gold Museum, a walking tour of the historic center and a cable-car ride up to Monserrate chapel, where we could look out on the huge capital city.

I’ll admit that when upon my first glimpses of Barranquilla, I kind of wished I could have been placed there. It’s bigger and more interesting, greener and more open, cooler, and the people speak much clearer Spanish. But over the last few days as I’ve heard and read more about Barranquilla and talked with Maureen, the other Fulbright ETA placed there, I’m really excited to be here. Everyone raves about how fun and friendly the people are and how vibrant the culture is. It’s in a great location, a short ride from Cartagena and Santa Marta. Besides, I trust that God placed me in Barranquilla for a reason, and I’m looking forward to seeing the opportunities he will provide for me here.

This Monday will be my first day at la Universidad del Atlántico—I’ll be meeting the English faculty and discussing my role. Stay tuned…

And here are a few pictures from Bogotá:

The view of Bogota from above


The cathedral in La Candelaria, Bogota's historic center


A few of us ETAs at a welcome event

Barranquilla, Baby!

Oh my gosh, I’m in Colombia! was the thought that literally woke me up this morning. It’s always exciting to travel to a new country, but it keeps blowing my mind that I’ll be living here for a year. There’s so much to learn and take in that it’s overwhelming, but I’ve got quite a bit of time to experience my new city.

The 30 hours I’ve been here have been pretty packed. Here’s a bit about my experience so far.

-Barranquilla: To be honest, I’m a little overwhelmed by this city. It’s hard to explain, but it’s different from any other city I’ve been in. Compared to Bucharest, Santiago, or even monstrous Mexico City, Barranquilla is hard to grasp. Instead of neat grids or major avenues, it’s a crazy network of streets. The public buses intimidate me: they all have colorful airbrush paint jobs which I guess are their distinguishing feature. They’re in questionable condition and I saw one yesterday that, I kid you not, had strobe lights inside.

-My home: I had the easiest arrival I could ask for. I was met at the airport by the family of my Colombian professor (Alexander). They dropped me off at the apartment of my host family, Gina and Omar, where Alexander and two guys from Lee (both named Michael) were there to greet me. Gina and Omar have really made me feel at home here. They have a nice little apartment with air conditioning (just in the bedrooms at night) and cold showers to relieve the Barranquilla heat.

-The food: Let me just say I’ll need to find a gym here…Colombian food is tasty but dangerous: everything is fried and carbohydrates make up 99.99999999% of the diet. They also have some delicious fruit. So far I’ve tried the lulo (which grows only in Colombia) and the granadilla (SO good!).

-The people: The Caribbean coast of Colombia is renowned for its friendly people. I experienced their hospitality before I even landed: on my flight to Barranquilla I sat next to a couple from here who gave me their number and told me to call if I needed anything while I’m here. Even the airport personnel were patient and helpful, and that’s a phenomenon in itself. As the new girl in town, I’m thankful to be in a place full of friendly, welcoming people!

The language: I had fair warning that “costeño” (coastal) Spanish is harder to understand. So far I’ve had to ask people to repeat themselves more often than not. The intonation is different, and they drop (if you want to get technical, aspirate) the “s” in many words [nosotros becomes nohotros], etc. I’m thankful I speak enough Spanish to get along fine, but I’m also humbled by how far I have to go. I agreed to speak for a few minutes in a chapel service today (yeah, someone talked me into this about an hour after I landed…I must have been too tired to protest). Anyway the first group of middle schoolers giggled and smirked through my spiel…I found out later that “um” and other fillers (“muletillas” as they’re called here) are not a linguistic universal  I guess my nervous “ums” struck the middle schoolers as hilarious.

It’s been a busy, but great, first day. I spent the morning at the school where the Michaels are volunteering this summer (the school is a partnership of Alexander’s church. Gina, my host mom, is an administrator there). Afterwards the two of them, Alexander and I ate lunch at a local restaurant, went to the bank to change money, visited Universidad del Atlántico (where I’ll be teaching)*, killed time at Juan Valdez (the Colombian version of Starbucks), walked and had dinner at the mall. I’m looking forward to my head and pillow meeting in a few minutes so that I can be rested for another full day tomorrow!

*Visiting UA was an interesting experience. I wanted to meet the faculty I’ll be working with and find out some details about my role as an English Teaching Assistant. Tracking down the contact person I’ve been corresponding with was not so straightforward. After a scavenger hunt all over campus, we finally found the right office only to be told that I should just show up on August 9 (after I return from orientation in Bogotá) and we’ll sit down with the other professors and figure it out. Alexander had warned me that Latin American universities have a very different definition of, um, organization. BUT I’m really glad I was able to visit the school, so that I’ll be able to find my way there on my own after Alexander leaves next week.

Romania

As I’m preparing to embark on a new adventure, it seems appropriate to resume blogging—not to replace face-to-face, e-mail, or phone communication, but as a way to provide updates for anyone interested.

As I look over my last few entries, I see that I haven’t mentioned that I got the news I had been waiting months for…I received the Fulbright Grant to teach English in Colombia for one year. I’ll be leaving at the end of July, and will spend the 2010-2011 schoolyear as an English Teaching Assistant at the Universidad del Atlántico in Barranquilla, Colombia. More to come on that soon.

I also had the pleasure of spending a couple of weeks in Romania. I had a great time staying with my friend, Christina, and her parents. I enjoyed being back in the familiar places I loved as a kid, in Bucharest as well as the mountains and the sea. I couldn’t access my blog to update while I was there, so I’m posting here an exerpt from my journal that I wrote on the way home:

June 10, 2010:
I’m on an airplane headed to Atlanta—strangely, it was 9 years ago to the day that we moved from Romania to America. Clear as day, I can remember journaling on that flight. Though I was slightly excited about living in America, my sadness grew as I watched the airplane on the screen leave a longer and longer red trail, signaling the increasing distance between me and the place where I’d grown up.

So much has changed since age 13, when I thought my heart would break with loneliness and homesicknss—and since age 15, when our visit to Romania sharpened the ache that had subsided in those two years of adjusting to life in the US. Now, at age 22, I’ve spent more of my years in America than I did in Romania. I’ve moved again (to college out-of-state) and developed a love for a language and region of the world distinct from Romania.

I didn’t know what to expect with this trip, but it was good for me in many ways. Even as a young kid I had a concept of culture; I knew that superstitions about drafts and cold concrete, or that you always give an odd number of flowers, or that you kiss on both cheeks were all part of being Romanian, and that we, as Americans, did things differently. But this time, I was able to see the places and people I grew up among through a different lens—more mature, thoughtful and with other experiences and cultures to compare it to. Some aspects of Romania were exactly as I remembered from childhood. Others were less familiar—I realized that even though I understood probably 90% of the words I was hearing, much of the sarcasm and humor was lost on me. As a kid living in Romania, I learned the language subconsciously and spoke it fluently. Now, as a foreign language major and aspiring English teacher , I was ultra-conscious of the language I heard, of the mistakes I made, of the similarities and differences between Romanian and Spanish, of declensions, diminutives, and reflexive verbs. I enjoyed being able to form a fresh impression of Romanian culture—to experience it for myself rather than shying away from unfamiliar people and food as I did when I was younger.

Not only did this trip help me better understand and appreciate Romania, but it is allowing me to turn the page on that chapter of life; providing closure, I guess. My childhood there greatly shaped who I am, but I no longer belong there. My family is in America, my friends are all over the world, and as far as I know, my future and purpose are elsewhere. I thoroughly enjoyed my two weeeks as a visitor, but the ache of homesickness, the longing to go back and the regret over forgetting the language are gone now. Romania will always be a huge part of me, but now I can turn my attention forward; I can be nostalgic without clinging to that past chapter.

Though the “ache” for Romania is disappearing, I know by now that life is full of transitions and changing relationships, and that’s hard. Romania, high school, college, summer programs, jobs—different stages, different relationships. I have deep bonds with family and friends all over the country and world…and here I go preparing to start over once again, this time in Colombia. Each new chapter, every adventure, is tinged with the sadness of separation from people I know and love—people who know me and love me. But my hope lies in two facts. For one thing, I’ve seen God’s faithfulness and provision time and again as he’s brought people into my life when and where I need those relationships. I know he’ll do it again in Colombia and beyond. But I know that my deep longing for permanence, constancy and enduring relationships cannot be fulfilled in this lifetime. That’s why I’m thankful to have a “hope that does not disappoint”—being a child of God. I have the comfort of knowing my Heavenly Father here and now, but I also have an inheritance of eternal life in heaven. With that truth in mind, the ache of change and the fear of an unknown future fade away. God, help me keep this truth in mind…

My Portion

Having just listened to Shane and Shane's song "My Portion," I thought I'd post a journal entry from a few months ago that refers to the same Psalm:

"For a long time, Psalm 73:25-26 has been one of my favorite verses:
'Whom have I in heaven but you?
And earth has nothing I desire besides you.
My flesh and my heart may fail,
but God is the strength of my heart and my portion forever.'

As I read this whole psalm this morning, I understood more of it than I had before.

The author recounts a time when he lost hope in God. Seeing that evil people often experience ease and prosperity, he feels that his obedience to God is pointless:

'Surely in vain have I kept my heart pure; in vain have I washed my hands in innocence. All day long I have been plagued; I have been punished every morning.' (v. 13-14)

It really is disheartening that godly people so often suffer, and evil people are often spared. It makes the case for living however we want so that we can at least experience short-term gratification.

The author's mindset changed, though, when he 'entered the sanctuary of God; then [he] understood their final destiny' (v. 17).

The point is that walking with God--whatever the circumstances are--is worthwhile because there is much more to our lives than just this earth. Evil people will meet their destruction, and their suffering will be permanent. On the other hand, those who follow God experience a joy deeper and longer-lasting than any earthly prosperity:

'Yet I am always with you; you hold me by my right hand. You guide me with your counsel, and afterward you will take me into glory' (v. 23-24).

It's at this point that the author realizes the foolishness of his doubt ('My feet had almost slipped...I was senseless and ignorant; I was a brute beast before you.')

The fact is, by nature we are like senseless animals compared to God. The difference between our intelligence and wisdom and God's is immeasurable.

It's all by God's grace that we even have the capacity to understand his ways.

I am so grateful for the truth this passage highlights. Christians may seem--and feel--like we're missing out on the good things in life, and that we reap suffering for the good we do. But the truth is that because life is eternal, believers are rich. We have God, the ultimate treasure (strength, portion) both now and for eternity." (January 7, 2010)