From the management

Just a few notes ...

- If you check in frequently enough, you may have noticed that some of our blog entries appear a few days or even weeks after they have been written. This blog also serves as a journal for us, so we are trying to keep the dates as close to accurate as possible. We have been intentionally trying to match the date of the entry to the event it corresponds with, even if we actually write and post the entry well after. So, you might want to scroll down through the entries every once in awhile, just to check to see if you missed anything.

-On a unrelated note, check our Flickr site for some new pictures. There is a new Medellin photo set, and the Cartagena set here will be updated shortly.

Enjoy!

All I want for Christmas...

Merry Christmas!

Cartagena Part III: Islas de Rosario

The Rosario islands are not to be confused with the Rosario straight in the San Juan Islands outside of Bellingham, but rather are 27 islands in the Caribbean off the coast of Cartagena. Here, unlike in town, the waters are the crystal clear blues and greens you see in tropical post cards. Also, there is a large reef with some of the best snorkeling in Colombia.

Not to miss the opportunity for a boat ride or snorkeling we got up at 7:00am on our last full day in Cartagena to make it to the docks by 8:30. We joined a Caliente (hot, as in temperature) Tours group that Edwin, a very helpful waiter at our hotel, recommended because they spoke English. We boarded the aptly named Picante (hot, as in spicy) motor boat with 20 others and headed off on our way to the Isla de Sol, the island of sun.

As we left the harbor we passed by the large ship the Gloria flying the Colombian flag and a large statue of the Virgin standing in the harbor watching over the city. After about 10 minutes outside of the harbor we start to slow down. We look left, right, no islands in site. Why are we stopping? We look straight a head into the broad side of a large naval vessel with guns and cannons pointed at us. (I hope you understand why we don’t have pictures of this one!) Apparently it is protocol to check in and out with the coast guard when ever you are leaving a protected harbor to open Colombian seas. My guess, this is part of the administration’s crack down on drug trafficking. After a quick look over of our safety gear and paper work we were off on the remainder of our one hour boat ride to the island.

Once we got the island we were greeted with welcoming fruit trays and the schedule of the day. Lounge around, do some swimming, snorkeling, and a trip to the aquarium on a neighboring island if you want. We opted for some snorkeling, lounging, and swimming. By some unusual twist of fate we were the only four that opted for some snorkeling, so the four of us were loaded in the boat for a private hour long tour of the local reef. With in moments of jumping off the boat we were surrounded by schools of tropical fish and it seemed to be the fastest hour of our lives. Just a few of the fish we spotted were: clown fish, parrot fish, trumpet fish, and some unusual blue fish with glow in the dark iridescent polka dots.

When we got back to shore is was time for anyone who was going to the aquarium to board the boat. That was almost everyone else on the boat. Today was our lucky day. For 2 hours we were secluded on an island paradise. We lounged, we swam, what a life. When the rest of the group returned we were treated to a typical fish meal before we headed home.

On the way back, due to rough waters, we chose to travel through the canal system and river ways that connect Cartagena with other inland ports. We passed through tropical swamp land passing flocks of wild birds and if you looked close you were able to spot enormous iguanas lounging in the trees. What a wonderful way to end our vacation.

Cartagena Part II: Castillo de San Felipe de Barajas y Convento de La Popa

Though we could have spent all of our five days in the Old City there was still more to discover. So, on our third day in town we headed out to see what else the city had to offer.

The first stop was Castillo de San Felipe de Barajas, an old Spanish fort built high a top San Lazaro hill. Covering the entire hill with large walls, military batteries, hundreds of cannons, and dozens of secret tunnels it is said that this fort was the strongest fort built by the Spaniards in their colonies. Despite countless attempts to storm the Castillo the fortress was never taken.

As we climbed up the steep hillsides toward the top of the fort Dad kept musing on how on earth men in armor would be able to run up this. (Maybe one of the reasons the fort was never taken.) From the top of the 40m hill we were able to see all of the Old City of Cartagena as well as the modern city of skyscrapers and apartment buildings. The views were impressive, but not as impressive as what was hiding underneath where we were standing.

The Spaniards had built an extensive system of tunnels in the hill and under the fortress to help deliver provisions and aid in evacuations. The tunnels are about three feet wide and around five feet 10 inches tall (a little disappointing to all but mom, the only member of our group under six feet tall). Part of the reason the tunnels are so narrow is because they were designed to help sound reverberate so they could hear even one enemy’s footstep. You can imagine what it sounded like as we were approached by a tour group of 30 teenage kids. We plastered ourselves in corners for about five minutes while the group passed us in the narrow corridor. It was a welcome relief to leave the tunnels to see daylight again and to let the ringing in our ears come to an end.

After leaving the Castillo we were determined to see more so we caught a cab with an enthusiastic tour guide named Alfonso. The ten minute ride to La Popa, our next stop, became a 30 minute excursion to other sites of the city including Los Zapatos de Viaje, two large brass shoes that look out to the Castillo and a popular photo spot. We didn’t pass up the opportunity. On the way back to the cab we were approached by a man holding a surprisingly cuddly three year old sloth named Manualita. After each taking a turn holding her and posing for pictures we gave the sloth man some money and were on our way to the highest point in Cartagena.

La Popa is a convent perched atop the tallest hill, 150m, in Cartagena. It literally translates as the convent of the stern. It is not named this because of the stern reputation of Catholic nuns but rather because from its place on the hill it resembles the stern or poop deck of a ship. Remember we are in a port town. The true name is the Convento de Nuestra Señora de la Candelaria, after the patron saint of the city.

The two main attractions of La Popa are the image of La Virgen de la Candelaria in the convents chapel and the views. The Virgen was crowned and blessed by Pope John Paul II on his visit to the convent in 1986. Also impressive is her wardrobe of dozens of dresses for each season and holiday of the catholic calendar. But well worth the long trip up the hill and the expensive cab ride from Alfonso are the breathtaking views of the ocean and the city. No wonder the Augustine monks decided to build a convent and chapel here.

Cartagena Part I: Beach town and Old City

In honor of the first visit by friends or family and due to the lack of tourist activities in Medéllin, we all took off for the tourist capital of Colombia: Cartagena. Cartagena is located on the Caribbean coast and is one of the most important ports in South America.

At close to 8:00pm after the one hour and ten minute flight we disembarked the plan to 80 F temperatures and humidity giving us a warm welcome hug. Due to the dark we weren’t able to see much, so we quickly collected our bags and took the 5 minute taxi ride to our hotel beach resort Las Americas. After check in we ate a quick dinner and headed to bed and were lulled to sleep by the crashing waves outside our window.

The next morning we woke looking out past the hammock on our balcony to the blue waters of the Caribbean inviting us out to play. We quickly put on our swimsuits, ate a quick breakfast, and hit the beach. The water was not the color of the intense blue and greens you see in most of the Caribbean, but it was still just as inviting with temperatures warmer than our shower on most days. After jumping waves and floating around we lathered ourselves in sun-block and relaxed under thatched roof umbrellas and read for hours. After finishing the first books we brought, they were already started at home, we decided to get dressed and head into the city to start exploring. As we returned to our room we quickly realized that with the equatorial climate we needed to re-apply the Waterbabies a bit more frequently. As we read we turned quite red ourselves.

The four of us caught the 3:00 bus into the old city (about a 15 minute ride, including a short detour to the airport). We had read and heard about how beautiful the old city was but not much could prepare us for the wonders we were about to discover.

The old town was founded in 1533 by Spanish explorers however in 1552 a large fire flattened the town. It was then made law that all new structures needed to be made out of stone, brick, or tile; thus, leading to the well preserved and beautiful architecture of the old city. Large churches, monasteries, and brightly painted buildings with vine covered balconies rose up from narrow cobbled streets that pedestrians, taxis, motorcycles, and horse drawn carriages passed through.

We were instantly spotted as gringos and street venders peddling anything from t-shirts to bottled water began approaching us saying “Special promotion for you today!” or “Prices are going down!” Diving into the nearby shops wasn’t much of a reprieve because most shop owners had a learned that gringos spend money and began giving us prices in US dollars, not able to understand why we didn’t have any US money to spend.

One of the best places we found to avoid commercial capitalism at its best was to walk along the top of Las Muralles, or the thick wall that surrounded the old city to help protect it from attacking pirates. The infamous siege of Cartagena by Sir Frances Drake in 1586 inspired the building of the wall after the city was only spared by paying a 10 million peso ransom that was quickly shipped back to England. Well, rape and pillage only made Cartagena stronger. In response they began the 200 year project of building the wall and other defenses to protect the port and town.

We loved the walled city so much that we spent a part of each day and into the nights exploring all it had to offer. On our last evening in town we took a romantic horse and buggy ride around the town with a guide pointing out the historical features of the city. We would recommend the buggy ride to anyone going to Cartagena, but do it your first night there, not your last. After the ride the mysterious layout of the city with its unparallel streets finally started to make some sense.

Accurate misrepresentations: The artwork of Fernando Botero

With Jim and Marilyn here we were excited to share a few of our favorite places we have discovered. On Tuesday we set out to explore our favorite place in town, La Plaza de Botero. The plaza is in the heart of down town with a large grassy area with more than a dozen large, gordo, Botero statues. Fernando Botero, Medéllin born Colombian painter, has a unique style of using large, chubby, or gordo, features throughout his paintings whether they are of flowers, fruit or people. On one side of the plaza is a large checkered, brick, cathedral style building where the cultural museum is located. On the other end of the plaza is our sacred place in town where we keep returning to on a regular basis: the Museo de Antioquia (Museum of Antioquia). The museum, home to hundreds of South American art treasures and the Juan Valdez Coffee shop, has everything you could ask for in a leisurely afternoon.

We entered the museum and quickly took the elevator to thte thrid and top floor. We started viewing artwork from Botero’s personal collection that he donated to the museum in the early-nineties, while Colombia was actively trying to self-destruct through guerilla warfare and drug cartels controlling the country. Botero, still living today in Europe, believed that during this time more than any other the country needed to have a sense of pride and beauty in themselves so he donated over one hundred pieces of artwork, more than 60 of these were his own showing the beauty of daily life in Colombia.

Botero’s paintings tower over your head with vibrant colors and larger than life representations of families, Colombian streets, nuns, priests, other religious figures, and bull fighters. (Botero himself was a struggling bull fighter and his paintings show his sensitivity to both the bull and the matador.) One of his favorite motifs in sculpture and in paint is Adam and Eve, usually with Adam going for the apple. (Guys have always been trying to blame their mistakes on women, even from the beginning.)

Other floors of the museum are packed full with South American artwork from Spanish colonization up to modern work. The one period that seems to be missing is pre-Columbian artwork. However, we have been told most the remaining indigenous artwork is stored in the national museum in Bogotá. One of my favorite pieces of artwork in the museum is a towering Diego Rivera almost cartoon like painting of a mountain farmer.

After introducing mom and dad to Botero we took them to the gift shop where they loaded up on Botero calendars to take home. Then we sat casually on the patio in front of the museum with cups of Juan Valdez coffee watching statues and the people until the afternoon rains encouraged us to head home.

Carolina is our savior

Sunday, 10:34 PM Our go-to-girl in this country is Carolina. Carolina was raised in New Jersey by Colombian parents. Hence, she bridges the two cultures well and, besides being a great friend, serves as translator in times of need. Heather calls Carolina. “Is there anything we can do?” Caro says she will call the airport.

Sunday 10:42 PM The phone rings. I pick it up. “The ticket counters are closed,” Caro says. Then, in a low whisper, like someone might hear her, “Sean, I really don’t think you should get your hopes up. In this country, your bag is gone.”

Monday, 9:07 AM Heather tries Caro again. Caro (did I mention that she is a great friend?) offers to ask her uncle to help. Apparently, Uncle knows somebody who knows a person who might be able to help. Maybe.

Monday, 3 PMish Still no word. By this time, an inventory has been taken. Amoung other things, we are missing a jar of peanut butter, a jar of marshmallow cream, 3 blocks of cheddar cheese, every single piece of English reading material, and a handful of presents intended for Heather.

Tuesday, 8:38 AM I am washing last night’s dirty dishes in the kitchen. The phone rings. Heather answers.

The bag has been found.

Apparently one of the porters realized our bag was not loaded and put it somewhere safe. Caro’s uncle has a friend who drives a taxi. We pay the taxi fare along with a sizable tip, and Uncle gets a free ride up to the airport and picks up the bag.

This is the second time we have lost something in this country and assumed it to be gone for good (see The Case of the Missing Underwear). In the States, we would have the seen the bag on the evening news as it was being blown up by the airport bomb squad. We are constantly amazed at the friendliness and good-naturedness of the people of this country – a country that the press loves to rank among the most dangerous in the world.

Mi Casa San Miguel es su casa

The first full week of Christmas vacation brings many things. Relaxing days lounging in bed until all hours ... more time to spend with the pup ... Heather’s parents.

After a brave 24 hour stint in cars, planes, and airports, Jim and Marilyn arrived at Medéllin International late Sunday night. Dutifully they managed to fool the customs agents into thinking that for a 2 week vacation gringos do need three extra-large-bursting-at-the-seams suitcases and a bicycle and two just barely legally sized carry-ons. Little did the agents know, the bags actually contained 6 jars of organic peanut butter, 2 extra large jars of marshmallow cream, 8 packs of Bear Creek soup mix, multitudes of candy bars, books written in English, a small bag of suspicious looking mulling spices, and a real bicycle too large for any Colombian. And an extra pair of underwear.

Aware of the fact that people and luggage would not fit into your Average Colombian Taxi, Heather and I managed to secure a private shuttle van to the airport. After being entertained by the commentary track of “Ice Age” on the van’s DVD player (pirated movies in all their glory!), we arrived at the airport in time to see Jim and Marilyn and Sean’s bike and Heather’s baking goods and other various wares not yet available in Colombia emerge from the International Arrivals gate. Hugs and kisses all around.

We wrestled and wrangled the un-unassuming mass of luggage to the curb and poured our tired bodies into the van. Due to the sheer mass of peanut butter and marshmallow cream, logistics required the humans to enter the vehicle before the luggage. Three porters piled soup mix, Costco sized cumin, and a really large bicycle into the van, and off we went.

Forty minutes later we arrive at Casa San Miguel (the “mi casa” in mi casa es su casa). Our able shuttle driver, Janneth (an amazing name here in Colombia, given that J is pronounced as an English H, double consonants are an anomaly, and the “th” sound is unpronounceable in Spanish), asks us to the count the bags that have flowed onto our driveway.

Uno, dos, tres, cuatro, cinco … uh oh.

The missing piece did not reveal itself under a bench in the van. It did not reveal itself in the passenger seat. It did not even reveal itself behind any of the quite large potted plants in the drive way. It was Missing.

Mystic musings and screwy seasons

So figure this one out. December 7 is the last day of the 2005 school year. However, our Christmas vacation doesn’t actually start until Friday, December 9. Why the missing day?

Ahh, I am so glad you asked.

In a fantastic feat of fetal growth and maturation, it turns out that Jesus was Immaculately Conceived on December 8, only to be born a mere 17 days later. (I suppose this also might help explain how he grew to the age of 30 in the 4 months between Christmas and Easter.) Anyway, being good Catholics, we celebrate Immaculate Conception on the 8^th, withholding any holiday travel plans and whoops for joy in light of our 4½ week Christmas vacation, until after the deed is done.

To throw another wrench in the works, all of a sudden it is summer again. Here in Medéllin we get 2 seasons: winter and summer. Winter means it rains every day. Summer means it is really hot and might rain every so often. November was winter. December is summer.

Good thing Jesus didn’t grow up here, what with the rapidly changing seasons, abnormally short adolescence, trying to cram four years of high school into a couple of weeks (and at a developmentally important time of anyone’s life, mind you), etc, etc. With all the confusion, I guess you got to have faith.