Cali

After returning from the hearing, I traveled to Cali with Lilia's family.  The road to Cali passes over the mountains to the west of Bogota.  Lilia's son, mother, and driver spent ten hours speeding along windy mountain roads.  I do not do well with curves, but I found that if I slept through them, I didn't feel as motion sick.  Before I started napping, though, I got some nice photos of the Colombian mountainscapes: 

Cali is the kind of climate you expect this close to the equator.  Thanks to its perch in the mountains, Bogota stays a brisk 75*F or so, but Cali, down at the feet of the mountains, is truly tropical: palm trees, humidity, the whole deal.

My week in Cali was largely uneventful.  I accompanied the family to the university (a pretty campus: palm trees, gardens, and brick buildings) a couple times, while they went through Lilia's son's admissions process.  I went out for dessert some evenings with Lilia's son, and spent a lot of time in the apartment.

One night, the family went out to a mirador, a restaurant with a view.  One the way there we stopped to take some photos:

On Thursday, I went to the Central Plaza, where proud-looking colonial architecture looked out over park benches full of people and street musicians playing haunting tunes on wooden instruments. I ducked into an big old church, where I sat reflecting for a moment before moving on the the anthropological museum and the gold museum. 

 

 

My last night in Cali, I participated in a well-honored Cali tradition: salsa dancing!  This was my first real (partnered) salsa experience in Colombia.  They have a slightly different style than the Cuba/PR-centric style I learned in DC-- there are fewer spins, and more side-to-side movement.  I managed to pick it up as we went along, and had a lot of fun! 

On the road back to Bogota, I was alone with the driver (to explain: from what I understood when it was briefly mentioned to me, Lilia's car and drivers are provided by the government for protection; the drivers are armed, I think.  It's dangerous working in human rights in Colombia).  The driver and I bonded: he stopped for me to buy some fruit for breakfast, and explained how to eat it, since it was a type I've never seen before.  We chatted and ate lunch together, until the motion sickness level got to the point where I turned to in-car napping for relief.  As on the way to Cali, I did manage to get some nice shots of the mountainside landscapes before that point:

Political Prisoner

The Monday after my arrival here, I went to a hearing of an outspoken professor who'd been arrested and charged with working with the FARC.   Each month, they give him an hour of court time, and then he has to wait in jail for another month until the next hour's worth of the hearing.  When the judge adjourned the hearing after this month's hour, a large percentage of the spectators started chanting about justice for political prisoners.  Outside the courthouse, there were lots of protesters as well:

The sign reads: "We are professors in favor of Human Rights and free expression.  Thinking differently doesn't make us terrorists."

My arrival in Bogota

I'll admit: I was very nervous to go to Bogota.  In part because of Colombia's reputation for being unsafe, but mostly fears about whether I'd be happy here.  I was worried that my still-imperfect Spanish would limit my usefulness at work and ability to socialize, that I wouldn't like the city, that I wouldn't be able to find friends.

Here is what I wrote the night of my arrival: 


I woke up in my parents' New Jersey home this morning, and tonight I am falling asleep in Bogota.  

I woke up with a splitting headache, stumbled to the bathroom to down some acetaminophen, and fell back asleep for a couple hours.  I showered, packed my toiletries and some other last items, bought travel insurance, dropped my guidebooks back off at the library, wrote down the embassy and other important contact information, hugged PJ goodbye and hit the road with my dad.  PJ stood in the driveway an we drove off, doing a one-person "wave" through the rearview mirror.  On the way to the airport I cried a little (nerves and sentimentality) and slept a lot.  

In the check-in line and in the waiting area, I eyed people who looked about my age, wondering how hard it would be to make friends once in Bogota.  On the plane I was seated next to a lovely young woman who turned to me almost as soon as I was seated and asked, "Do you speak Spanish?"  (in Spanish, of course)  I said yes, and we launched into conversation.  Her name was Diana, and she worked for the UN helping children in indigenous communities affected by the conflict.  She lived near Cali, but we exchanged contact info and she promised to connect me with friends of hers in Bogota.  I would have loved to chat with her the whole flight, but as we were preparing for takeoff, the flight attendant had her switch seats with the woman across the aisle so there wouldn't be two babies in the same row... which was ok, because then I got to sit next to an adorable little baby on her first trip to her mother's homeland, on her way to be introduced to grandparents, aunts, and uncles.  

After claiming my luggage and passing through customs, I wandered the pickup area searching for Lilia, the executive director of the organization for which I'll be volunteering.  After fifteen luckless minutes I began contemplating my other options.  I had Lilia's phone number, but no phone.  I also had her address, but it wouldn't help if she wasn't home to let me in.  I had the address of a hostel but I needed to be sure Lilia wasn't there waiting for me before I left.  I must have looked pretty lost, because a young man trying to attract people to the hotel he worked for asked if I needed to borrow his phone.  He dialed it for me, and after several times with no answer, Lilia picked up and told me she was on her way.  As I waited for her, the helpful hotel fellow checked back with me a couple times.  I asked for his contact info as well.  

Standing there outside the airport, I thought, I think I'm going to like Colombia.  We got off to a good start.  

Finally Lilia arrived.  In the car, she asked how tired I was, and mentioned that her friend who was leaving tonight was out dancing salsa for the next hour until her flight.  I said I was up for iy, so off we went!  There was a big group of people at the salsa club, most of them my age.  I spoke with a couple of them, and I'm hoping their connection to Lilia is not so tenuous that I can't hang out with them again.  Lilia's son, the English professor, was at the club too.  He speaks English very well, and we conversed in both languages.  He's about my age too.  I'm feeling a lot less nervous about making friends now.  

We got home at around midnight, and after a brief tour of the apartment (which is very nice!  It even has a balcony with a view out over the city), and a promise of a tour of the city center tomorrow, we said goodnight.  I am sitting in my low bed listening to lovely music PJ gave me (Bright Eyes, Cassadega) and remembering my day as a type this.  

I think this is going to be good. 


The following day, I took pictures of the view from Lilia's balcony:

 

 

 

An Introduction

Hi!

Welcome to globe-spinning.blogspot.com. I intend this to be a blog about the world, in which I'll share my thoughts on global issues ranging from human rights to environmentalism, conflict to the economy, international politics to identity issues. It's also inescapably a blog about me: my experiences and philosophy will affect which issues I mention and how I choose to talk about them, but more than that: I'll also be sharing images and stories from my personal travels.

A little about me: I am a twentysomething US citizen. I have a Bachelor's degree in international relations with a focus on peace and conflict resolution; I am an enthusiastic advocate for nonviolent action, an opinion which is sure to come out early and often in my writing. Up through my university years, my geographic focus was the former Soviet Union; I learned Russian, studied abroad in Poland, and wrote my thesis about the politics of language in Latvia. In the years since then, however, I decided to shift my focus to Latin America. In August of 2009 I quit my job at an NGO in Washington, DC, where I was working on a US State Department exchange program, moved all my things into my parents' basement, and flew to El Salvador to teach English and study Spanish at a social justice NGO in San Salvador.

In mid-January of this year, I flew down to Bogota, Colombia, to work with a human rights organization that fights against abuses perpetrated by the Colombian government. I serve as their documentarian, taking photographs and video, and compiling research on various topics. Since the position is unpaid, I'm also teaching English and looking for a job in a hostel. My Spanish is still imperfect, but improving. I live in La Candelaria, the historic neighborhood of Bogota which, thanks in part to its proximity to the university, also happens to be the lively, young downtown area. So far, I love it!

I envision that my entries here will be a mixture of personal travel stories, photographs of places I've gone, issues I'm learning about on my travels, and essays or rants on various global events. Beyong that, we'll see as it unfolds...