Proof.

T&A

Alright, it is finally time for a long overdue blog about T&A, also known as ‘tits and ass.’ The women out here have these unbelievable bodies, I go to the gym and am in awe of the other women working out there. I walk down the street and there’s booty everywhere, and cleavage spilling out of tiny hot pink shirts. It’s hard not to do frequent double takes and it’s easy to see why Colombian women, and Paisas in particular, are renowned for their bodies. However, if I’ve learned one thing after eight months in Medellín, it’s that if it looks too good to be true, it’s not.

First let’s talk implants. Colombia is a top destination for plastic surgery and that applies to breasts and bottoms as well as the usual facelift variety. What do you expect from a country with a long-running TV show called “Sin Tetas No Hay Paraiso” or “Without Tits, There’s No Paradise.” And when they turned the show into a movie they actually gave the actress a boob job as part of the deal! So silicon is big, and is even a somewhat common present for girls’ quiñeras, (15^th birthday celebrations). I find that one of the most ridiculous facts I’ve heard down here. Who is done developing at 15?! No wonder my friend who used to work in the ER told me that it not at all unusual to receive female patients with irritated silicone busts or leaking silicone butts. People actually lose legs that way and mortalities are not unheard of.

This brings us to the safer, cheaper, and more accessible option: padded underwear. That’s right, women actually wear underwear with butt pads to enhance their curvature. A favourite pastime of mine is the real or fake guessing game. This is a little greyer than the equivalent game in Thailand regarding transvestites, which was the surgery of choice in Bangkok, because our general rule was if you have to ask, then she is. But here, some women really do have incredibly curvy bodies, the plastic surgery is state of the art, and even padded asses often look proportional, so it can be difficult to make a final call. My trick is to examine the ass to thigh ratio and look out for the ‘shelf effect.’

As amusing as it often is to view such an interesting cultural phenomenon, ultimately I find the whole situation very sad. Why are 15 year olds getting breast implants? In an already competitive world, how are “normal” (read: natural) women supposed to compete with the supermodel and cartoon pinup bodies that are literally created on a daily basis? Why do women feel the need to wear ass pads even to the gym? The US definitely isn’t known for promoting healthy self-images to young girls, but I would imagine that this society could be very difficult for a young girl to grow up in.

Hey, Monkey!

Speaking of offensive ways to get people’s attention, I never wrote about one of the most surprising forms of address down here. This would be when I walk down the street and someone asks me for the time, directions, anything, and they get my attention by calling “Mona!” or “Monkey!” Yup, that’s right, I get called monkey on an almost daily basis. And although my first inclination on hearing this isn’t to turn around with a smile on my face, I’ve learned that there is absolutely no ill-will borne with the word.

It’s not a foreigner/local thing either; anyone who is light skinned will likely be referred to as mona/mono. I have no idea what the history behind this term is, but I did recently find out that Colombians actually use a different word when talking about the animal. And I do think that any Colombian leaving the country should be forewarned that referring to people as monkey will likely not be as well-received elsewhere!

Hey, Woman!

Miles and I finished our night out with empanadas, the Medellín equivalent of hotdogs in Seattle, pizza in New York, and falafel in London. I was so thoroughly engaged in my empanada that I missed the exchange between the woman behind the counter and two customers, which Miles described to me later. Two guys came up to order and yelled “Oi, mujer” or “Hey, woman!” to get the employee’s attention. The woman turned around with an expression that made it clear she couldn’t quite believe what she’d just heard and said “What?” The guy had the gall to repeat “Oi, mujer” one more time. The employee served them but was obviously very displeased at being treated so rudely.

I completely understand how “Hey, woman” would be offensive. Especially given the tone in which it was delivered, reminiscent of a “Hey, woman, get back in the kitchen” type comment in the US. What I find strange is that the polite way to get a female server’s attention is to call out “Niña!” or “Girl!” This is the case regardless of age. Even though I know that this form of address is totally acceptable and expected, I still find myself reluctant to call out “Niña” to a woman who is clearly my senior. But at risk of offending an unmarried woman by calling her “Señora,” I find my hands tied. I do know, though, that based on the woman’s reaction last night, you can be sure I won’t be calling out “Mujer!” anytime soon!

Bogota

Having been in Colombia for six months, I finally made my first visit to the capitol, Bogota. And . . . I loved it. I love Medellín too, of course, but Bogota has a completely different vibe. It reminded me a lot of international capitals and therefore of the west/the U.S. if that’s not too un-PC of me to say. Bogota reminded me of many American cities: the state of the roads, the Big Dig in Boston; the layout of the city, D.C.; the ready availability of culture and music, New York; and the fashion reminded me of bohemians and hipsters.

Our time in Bogota was filled with live jazz, salsa clubs, mouthwatering martinis, international food, a flea market, plazas, museums, and general wanderings. We took a few days from the city to head out to Villa de Leyva, home of the largest town square in all of South America. Although the square was quite big, we were more impressed by the first Colombian wine that we’ve encountered. The Marqués de Villa de Leyva absolutely shamed Gato Negro, which has become our wine of choice in Medellín.

All in all a great trip, and since I didn’t freeze my butt off as expected, I see return trips in my future.

How Old?!

In all the countries I’ve lived and traveled to I’ve become accustomed to a variety of different styles and fashions. Some of these I reject wholeheartedly: whitening cream; some I give into through lack of alternatives: anti-wrinkle deodorant; and some I choose to imitate: straight, black hair. However, I must admit to finding a current trend in Medellín to be one of the strangest I have yet encountered.

Older women want to appear younger than they actually are. Okay, okay, not that unusual. And younger women want to appear older? Seriously, the fashionable hairstyle among the twenty-somethings is gray streaks! At first I thought they were colored streaks that had faded out, but the phenomenon is so wide-spread that I have no choice but to believe that these girls actually want gray hair. The only reasonable conclusion I can draw is that, in an attempt to differentiate themselves from and rebel against their mothers’ generation, young women are left with no other option than to adopt an older look.

So the reason 20 year-olds must style themselves as old ladies may be because the older ladies have styled themselves as 20 year-olds. They wear the exact same clothing and their hair is long, streaked light brown and blonde, and flipped out in a Farah Fawcett manner. Add to the mix the incredible bodies that Colombians are known for and you’ll understand why, from behind at least, I have mistaken more than one 17 year-old’s mom for his girlfriend. I think this is one fashion trend I will have to give a miss!

WANTED! Alive

After 24 hours of searching and worrying, Miles made the prescient statement: “It’s like someone just took her!” He was referring to our 7 month-old kitten Bowie who disappeared from the front of the hostel on Saturday night. Two days later, after plastering the neighborhood with signs that unintentionally looked like old western WANTED! posters, we got the longed for call. Bowie was safe and sound two blocks away.

Apparently these neighbors had seen Bowie on the street, noticed that none of the businesses were open and nobody was up in the houses, figured she was a stray, and adopted her. Hm. I’m so thankful that they called and returned her that I will only state very briefly how odd it is that they did not notice the brightly lit hostel with an open door and music playing from the bar less than 10 yards from where they found Bowie.

It’s fitting that when we went to collect Bowie, the first thing they said was “Your cat is CRAZY!” There’s a reason we were this close to calling her “Loca.” Truth is, Bowie is up in our business ALL the time. She attacks the laundry as I hang and fold it, races under the sheets as I make the bed, sits on the sink while I do the dishes, rolls in the dust as I sweep, drapes herself across my shoulders while I study Spanish, stages surprise attacks from around corners, and nibbles on our feet while we sleep. Needless to say, the apartment felt completely empty without her and I suppose I can forgive her the next few scratches. Welcome home, Bowie!