Limpiar: (v) to clean

It took three tries to get a hostel cleaning lady we’re happy with. The first one earned her dismissal when she was loathe to clean the kitchen because “it’s only going to get dirty again.” Wait a minute, isn’t that the point of hiring someone to clean? Especially in a hostel with a capacity of 34, it’s crucial that the cleaning staff be willing to clean the same areas everyday and sometimes twice a day. Marybel, the new cleaning lady, is a gem who proved her ability to take initiative and her understanding of the term “deep clean” when she took a garden hose to the hallway walls and ceiling on her first day. With her help, the inches of construction dust in which we have been living have been all but eradicated.

Despite my obviously inferior Spanish, each cleaning lady we’ve had insists on reporting to me rather than Miles. Clearly, as the woman of the house, it’s my responsibility to provide direction regarding the cleaning. The result is that my current flashcards consist of words like dust, stain and mop. I suppose managing housework is as good a way as any to increase my vocabulary!

“The City of Eternal Spring”

Right. Apparently “spring” in Spanish is the equivalent of monsoon! This weather is so reminiscent of the rainy seasons in both Thailand and India that I could almost believe I were in either place when I sit here. I’m on the newly green veranda right now and although sitting ten feet inside the roof, am still getting sprayed. The thunder is rumbling and cracking overhead and the lightning is beginning to flash. There’s barely a pause between the two; the storm is literally right above us and I think this valley must have excellent acoustics because it is impossibly loud.

This rain happens every single day and you can watch the dark clouds roll across the sky and see the misty silver rain envelop the valley. It keeps the vegetation green and the air clean and fresh, but this constant rain is also causing mudslides and flooding all over the country. Apparently this weather has been constant since July and, Miles assures me, is quite uncharacteristic. It’s the result of La Niña and El Niño occurring in the same year, the weather patterns that are probably responsible for the unseasonable snow that Seattle is having right now.

But who doesn’t love a good thunderstorm? And Bowie doesn’t seem to mind, accustomed as she is to the daily hammering, drilling, etc. that forms our daily soundtrack at the hostel. Plus, what better way to discover the less than watertight sections of the roof?! Even so, with my hot-blooded tendencies molded so carefully by a few years in the tropics, I’ll welcome the “springier” side of this city when it finally arrives.

Operation Fluency

Call me a nerd, but I LOVE learning languages. I can’t even tell you how excited I am to be learning Spanish. There was a time in Thailand when I somewhat dejectedly accepted the fact that I would never know another language as well as I did Chinese. After all, I‘d had the benefit of university courses and full-immersion language programs to help me. But oh, how times have changed.

Spanish and I, we’re going to be best friends. Best friends forever, even. BFFs. I don’t just want to get by in Spanish, speaking enough to order food and direct a taxi. I don’t just want to formulate broken sentences, stringing enough words together to have the same simple conversations over and over again about my family, work, and where I’m from. I don’t want to only know the conjugations of verbs in the forms that I use and need most frequently. In fact, I don’t want even a part or a little bit of anything . . . I want it ALL.

I want to casually read the newspaper with my cup of coffee in the morning, skim a Garcia Marquez short story in the afternoon, and dip into Cervantes’ Don Quixote before I fall asleep at night. I want to make grocery lists, write emails, and keep my journal in Spanish. I want to know every conjugation of every verb and use flawless grammar. I want to always know the exact words to express my sentiments and never need to substitute one that only half means what I want to say. I want to wax poetic about the weather with the checkout lady at Exito, delve into human rights with taxi drivers, and debate politics with the fruit vendor down the street.

So, I’m not there yet, but a girl can dream. And in this case, I truly believe that I can make this dream a reality. Maybe I only just learned the past tense, get lost if a conversation takes an unexpected direction, and fall over even the words and phrases that I do know when put on the spot, but I’ll get there. I’ve only been here for two months and really learning Spanish for one. And I’m making progress with the help of my teacher, Ruben, and his infinite patience with my long pauses and probing language questions; Miles and his tolerance of my adding basic Spanish queries to the barrage of questions he is faced with and explanations he has to give at the hostel everyday; and my dearest friend Collins, Spanish Dictionary extraordinaire. It’s only a matter of time . . .

Farewell, RDF

There’s been a spell of quiet on my blog as I’ve focused on finishing my work for RDF and settling into Medellin. I worked remotely for RDF through the end of October and ended up running over one week into November. This was mostly writing and finishing as many projects as possible given my early departure from the organization. I wrote the content for the website, drafted a volunteer information packet, wrote new items for a flashier version of the Annual Report, and wrote a report on the Washington University program from the summer.

All of this work was with the intention of putting as much of the knowledge that I gained over the last year down on paper to serve as a guide and reference for future volunteers and employees. Nearly everything I did at RDF was from scratch since I was filling positions that hadn’t previously existed, there was very little documentation, and few systems were in place. Hopefully, this will allow for greater productivity and less reinventing of the wheel.

As much as I loved my work with RDF, I have to say I’m relieved to have officially finished. I’ll continue to be available in a consulting type position whenever necessary for volunteers in the future, but my official responsibilities are over. I found it difficult to stay as involved and inspired as usual during the last month of work. Of course, part of this is due to the conflict between needing to be at a computer working and wanting to explore this new city, culture and language. However, I think a larger factor was that, although I often perform best when left to my own devices, I also thrive off of contact with and feedback from others as well as inspiration from my surroundings. Most of all, I detest feeling as though I’m not performing at my best. Although I enjoy when my environment challenges me to perform better, I’d rather not fight against it, especially an environment as lovely as Medellin.

So here’s a final farewell to RDF, in a working capacity, and a thank you for the incredible amount of knowledge that I have gained about the inner working of nonprofits, life in rural India, and myself.

Medellin: Home

After a quick stop in Bucaramanga for Miles to buy one of their famed guitars, we bused back to Medellin. Ha, if only it were that easy! We woke up in the morning to find ourselves part of a long line of trucks and buses parked on the side of the road in the mountains. We waited patiently for a few hours as somewhere up ahead, workers cleared the mudslide that had blocked the road during the night. Then, as the first pangs of hunger hit, we were spurred to take action. Along with two fellow passengers we shouldered our bags and walked the mile or so to the site of the mudslide where we joined other travelers, including a group of nuns, scaling the hillside around it. Once on the other side we were able to get on a bus and finally made it to Medellin, only six hours later than expected!

I often think that a place really feels like home the first time I come back to it. So here I am, only two weeks into my life in Colombia, returning “home” to Medellin for the first time. And despite the fact that I’ve only actually spent five days in Medellin, the sight of the redbrick city set in a valley among mountains already feels familiar, and it’s good to be home.

La Guajira: The Land of Death and Dreams

After a few days relaxing in Santa Marta we moved on to Riohacha, a new city for Miles. Riohacha is the capital of the northernmost state of Colombia, La Guajira: Land of Death and Dreams. How could we not visit an area with such an enticing moniker! Our plan was to rent motorcycles and head into this “most mysterious place in Colombia” with nothing but the bags on our backs. Ah, how naïve we were.

As our Jeep was expertly steered by our local driver through a cacti forest between the paved road and our coastal destination of Cabo de la Vela, we were exceedingly grateful that motorcycles had not been available in Riohacha. It had been raining all night and the mud and water had collected to the point that we were fording rivers, fishtailing across muddy flats, and gripping the seats to keep from slamming our heads into the ceiling as the Jeep bumped along.

Disappointed by our inability to rent a vehicle and drive ourselves, I was at least mollified by the excitement of this drive. The coast itself was quiet, fairly deserted, and beautiful despite the storms. We finally got to swim, ate delicious fresh seafood, slept in hammocks, and cemented the plan to return at a time of year when the weather is more conducive to exploring the interior. Our time in Guajira was completed with the purchase of traditional hats from the Wayuu people who inhabit the area and with their different dress, features and language make it feel as if you really have entered another land.

Note: La Guajira will have to remain mysterious as I forgot my camera battery . . . but please, admire my Wayuu hat :)

Santa Marta: Research

In Santa Marta we got to do some hostel research. We spent the first night at Noctambular, one of four hostels in Santa Marta, only three of which are centrally located. Noctambular opened a couple months ago and was started by a young French couple who are managing the whole thing themselves. It was great to chat hostel work with them, but it seemed like they weren’t in the best place at the moment. Since it’s just the two of them and someone always has to be there, they’re completely tied down to the hostel and can’t even go out for a drink of dinner together. Thankfully, Miles already has a couple reliable employees lined up so that won’t be us!

In the name of research we moved to Brisa Loca, a beautiful hostel in a renovated hacienda, for the next night. Brisa Loca was the first hostel in Santa Marta and was started by two brothers from California. My dad had actually sent me a NY Times article about them just over a month ago. The hostel is incredibly well done and was a great place to get ideas as well as confirmation of a lot of the plans that Miles and Brent already have. Miles got a chance to talk to both the brothers and they were really helpful with stories from when they started and lots of tips. Exploring these hostels has been a really fun part of the trip for me because, all my recent travel experience having been bungalows and guesthouses in Asia, this is my first exposure to South American hostels. Now I have a much better idea of what Miles and Brent are aiming for and can also recognize how great their plans are.