Headline: Another few weeks living in Medellin – I play the best sport ever invented, mistakenly ask someone to cut my hair with his penis, hold a dead fish, actually learn some Spanish, cook badly, spend my first Xmas & NYE out of England, badly act out a Spanish telenova, abandon another walking tour, make a fire, and, find (and spend a lot of time in) the closest thing I can find to a typical English pub.
Essay:
Week two of Spanish school and I’m starting to get back into the learning curve and enjoying the lessons, the other classmates had a big influence. Martin, a fellow Brit, was at a similar level to me and we could always use sarcasm to get over the learning difficulties we shared.
After spending so long with my classmates, doing evening activities together as well time spent in class, I started to feel quite relaxed and slipped back into a routine again. One evening we did a scavenger hunt challenge, which involved completing various random tasks around Envigado and of course speaking and interacting with as many locals as possible. We get the most points of any group yet, and I try to show off by opening a beer with another beer and dramatically fail in front of everyone, sexy. Wasting beer is one of the few things which can bring a tear to my eye.
This was also the day I decided to finally move out of the house/dog-sitting and into Envigado. I’d found a room in a shared house literally two blocks from the school, win/win/win. Now the issue is, not only am I paying for Spanish lessons, I’m paying for accommodation – an unwelcome expense but worth it as it gives me a lot of social flexibility.
That evening, I go for beers with Lance from the US, one of my class-mates. It’s been a long time since I had a good “man-chat” – refreshing.
Later in the week I decide to go on another walking tour – Comuna Trece – which informs about Medellin’s history, current events in this famous neighbourhood in Medellin and to show the mural graffiti art. I go with Sofia and Chris, another guy from the school. I would list a few interesting facts I learnt but I abandoned the tour after about an hour, which I think makes it 2-2 overall on walking tours which have been completed against those abandoned. I left for a few reasons, the main one being pure boredom. If there’s one thing I’ve learnt about myself out here; I have a very short attention spam when I don’t have 100% interest in whatever is happening in front of me.
There was another reason but you’ll have to ask me separately.
That Friday, I have the best Spanish conversation coaching session yet! Perhaps because there was a little flirting going on, which inevitably helped my concentration (yes it was a female coach). Also, in class, I win a 10 beer bet with Martin on the correct spelling of a Spanish word, (which of course at the time of writing I’ve now forgotten), it’s going to be a good night!
During the evening, we hit the language exchange again, I redeem about four beers from Martin and we head onto the Reggeaton bar with Sofia, Martin, Lance and a few others. After again hardly eating anything, I’m feeling light, tipsy and after redeeming a few more beers, confident; lots of salsa happens.
This would be the first Christmas and new year I would spend away from England. As Colombian’s celebrate Xmas eve rather than the day itself, one of the students at the Spanish school, Andreas, invited all students to a Xmas Eve party at his rather special apartment. About 15-20 people attended, mostly foreign travellers but some Colombian’s attended too. Everyone contributed some food, resulting in a superb Xmas dinner including Turkey, stuffing, roasties, mulled wine etc. I slaved for hours (one hour) in my Airbnb kitchen making garlic & onion arepas, no meal in Colombia can be complete without arepas – they were terrible so I “left” them somewhere…
The special thing about the apartment wasn’t the apartment itself. It was the disused old nightclub which sat on the ground floor. It was still well equipped with tables, chairs, glasses, sound systems – all we had to do was provide people, food and drink. We spent a few hours dancing and playing drinking games before hitting a nearby bar for some salsa.
And here’s a glimpse of said party:
I wouldn’t be giving Colombia a fair representation if I didn’t mention that something crazy then happens this evening. Again, you’ll have to ask separately. Family members are not allowed to ask…
Christmas day is spent devouring bacon sarnies (brown sauce is one thing you cannot find in Colombia, much to my disappointment), left over Turkey (I earned this for helping Andreas clean the old nightclub Xmas morning – yes, I am a good soul) and playing pool with Sofia.
We found a place which best resembles a typical English pub. You actually order beer from the bar (everywhere is table service here), it has a pool table which actually works, plays 80’s & 90’s music, and has a slight aroma of beer and urine – perfect.
The following days involve studying more Spanish, the past tense (******* difficult) and a frustratingly long and unnecessarily difficult visa extension process – I’ve now been in Colombia for almost three months!
Next week, I take a salsa class with Sofia, Hanna and Chris – the first since I was a member of Sheffield Hallam University Salsa Society. Bloody hell it was hard. Honestly – I think it was hard due to the fact we were dancing so slowly, and I’m just used to dancing relatively fast without thinking. That said, it was clear that over time, I had forgotten the proper salsa basic step technique, or more likely, I never had it to start with.
Most excitingly, this week we played a game of Tejo. My god! This is truly a brilliant sport, and actually it’s Colombia’s national sport. Just for a few seconds, stop reading and imagine the perfect sport; what would it consist of for you?
If you’re anything like me, you’ll imagine a sport where you don’t have to move much, can drink a lot, and can blow stuff up. Well, this is Tejo! No wonder they are trying to make it an Olympic sport. Check it out:
And you HAVE to watch this; I am only one of two people in the group who make an explosion, and Sofia catches it on video (thank you!!!):
The next day, another salsa lesson – better but still tricky…
Every Friday at the school there is a “fun” activity to help embed the week’s learning. This week it’s a telenovela – our class decided to act out a scene where one of us stole money from the rest of the group, we ended up murdering him and trying to cover it up. More interesting when you have to act in Spanish… A few pics:
Perhaps more interestingly, and embarrassingly for me, here’s a video of us acting it out. And if you’d like to follow, here’s the script:
Another language exchange then occurred. This time though, we headed into El Poblado (gringo/tourist/party central) for some live salsa music. Which went something like this:
Then, New Years Eve happened. This was cool. A friend of James (another classmate) offered to host on his apartment’s rooftop. Imagine lots of people (mostly European’s and USA), lots of booze, loud music, a rooftop with great views, fireworks, dancing and a NYE countdown. It was almost like being at home. Spending a night celebrating and laughing with great people, for me, is what NYE is all about:
The next few days are pretty chilled – pool, coffee, Spanish school and more coaching, lots of lunches with friends, and, preparing for the next chapter – a tour of Colombia’s coffee region.
Before that though, Sofia and me plan a weekend out of Medellin somewhere. After our last day at “school” (this still sounds strange), we pack and head for the bus terminal, still not knowing where we’re going. We spontaneously decide on Santa Fe, a small pueblo (town) surrounded by beautiful scenery and apparently, a very special, famous bridge.
“Santa Fe de Antioquia, a pueblo located approximately an hour northwest of Medellín, is renowned for its stunning colonial architecture–some of the best preserved in all of Colombia.”
According to the pictures, here we do pretty much nothing but drink lots of coffee, lounge around reading in hammocks, a little swimming, have deep and random conversations, explore the pueblo and eat a LOT of street food. And of course we visit the bridge. I forget why it’s famous, something about a guy who didn’t get paid half way through building it, and in return, didn’t hand over the blueprints to the government, resulting in a bodge-job of sorts. Anyhow, a great escape from the city:
After returning to Medellin a few days later, we decide we deserve a camping trip to plan our travels to Colombia’s coffee region. We pack and head up to Parque Ecologico La Romera, Sabaneta. It’s raining pretty heavily but once we find shelter and erect 😉 the tent, I get a fire going – my only Bear Grylls skill. Apparently, women find this sexy. Sofia makes hot toddy (which I hadn’t heard of…) on her stove, whilst on the fire I burn chorizo sausages, onion, peppers and the most important ingredient of all meals, cloves of garlic. The view of Medellin from up here is beautiful, see for yourself:
Breakfast is porridge and hot chocolate (with rum for Sofia – and she says I drink a lot).
Back in Medellin, this evening is time for goodbyes, we play a few last games of pool with what is left of the Spanish classmates.
The next day, it’s time to leave Medellin for the last time and head southwards for our trip to the coffee region – which is where we will part ways. But first, more drama as I search for my first foreign haircut – something which was giving me nightmares.
I’d heard stories from fellow travellers who have gone into Colombian barbers with pictures and clear, specific descriptions of what they want; travellers with better Spanish than me. And, what was the result? On all occasions, a typical Colombian short, kind of mohican cut. Google has a good example here:
I DID NOT want this. I can get a little uptight about my hair, I like it cut a certain but straightforward way, in essence, just an all-round trim.
So, off I go, looking for the “right” barbers for me. I check some on Google for good reviews and find one down some backstreet of Envigado. I stand outside for five whole minutes, checking Google translate so I know exactly what to say. I’m nervous, like I’m about to go into a job interview or something; people are giving me strange looks.
I get lucky, the place is empty, and the barber is a young guy who is friendly and curious as to why there is a gringo in his barber. He listens to me and actually gives me what I ask for. This never happens in England – I always think they take off too much, then give them the impression I’m extremely happy and tip them for doing such a crap job, then a few days later realise that the length is actually good. I don’t know why I do this, it’s one of the few aspects of my life where I ignore my honesty policy…
I used to tell people I was a simple guy.
Anyhow, I pay 12,000 Pesos (£3) for a great cut and actually, a superb and educational one hour Spanish conversation. Why did I mess around paying 35,000 Pesos per hour to professional Spanish conversation coaches when I could just get my hair cut often, for cheaper, and have a genuine conversation?
Oh, and the best bit? I asked him to cut my hair using his penis. Yes – reread and confirm that I wrote what you thought I wrote.
“Piene” = hair comb. “Pene” = penis. You see how a slight mis-pronunciation can get you into trouble in Spanish? I learnt this first hand, and not for the first time.
In fact whilst we’re on the subject, a friend in Colombia, Tracey, once told me the best story. Her friend, new to Spanish, who coincidentally happens to be a lesbian (this will make sense in a minute), was once looking for a sports field and asked “Donde esta la concha” instead of “Donde esta la cancha”. Yes, she asked someone where the pussy is at.
I get carried away sometimes. Anyhow, after my last actual coaching session and moving out of the apartment, I meet Sofia and we head to Jardin for the first part of the coffee region trip. I’ve already been to Jardin, which you may recall in a previous blog, but she wants to see it and it’s on the way south. Besides, I liked it – it’s where I had my famous waterfall + overgrown beard picture.
Next instalment – coffee region.
AshWoodhall.blog 
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