My Barranquilla Life

Since arriving in mid June, I’ve done my best to get to know modern day Colombia through time spent sharing coastal culture with the beautiful people of Barranquilla. In the entry entitled The Playa Es Hot, I gave a brief introduction into how my Barranquilla life was shaping up. Since then a lot has happened and saying that I’ve adapted to the heat would be a fabrication of the truth, as I’ve only got more use to sweating. In my quest to understand Barranquilla, I’ve started to see that it’s the details of my daily routine that make up what this port city will always be to me. Barranquilla is slowly being defined by the little things like my host sister’s smile, the not so little cockroaches, the contagious rhythms of salsa on every corner, the rain, the sun, the coastal spanish, and everything else in between. 

It’s hot. I wish I could start by writing about something else but I can’t. I’m currently sitting on my bed, in front of my fan, it’s 9:33 PM and I’m sweating. I still haven’t figured out how the locals can wear pants and long sleeves and not die of dehydration, heat exhaustion, or a combination of the two. I could be wearing nothing but a loin cloth, like something I stole off the set of Apocalypto, and the guy next to me could be in a 3-piece suit and somehow he’ll be as cool as a cucumber while I’m looking like I just got out of a Bikram Yoga class. If only I knew their secret to staying cool. It’s not just staying cool that becomes a daily battle, but it’s making sure that you hang your towel so it doesn’t mold in a record breaking time, it’s not eating in your bed/room so as to not invite unwanted guests - ants, cockroaches, etc, it’s figuring out ways to make sure your clothes don’t mold. Since about week two, I’ve hung my clothes to cut down on the chance of mold growth. I’ve also, only recently, started to use Humidex bags(see photo), which are specifically engineered to trap moisture and keep clothes from molding. The Humidex bags are made up of two compartments. The top compartment is filled with pellets and the bottom bag is empty. As the top bag traps moisture, the pellets, through a science that I clearly don’t understand, convert the humidity into a liquid solution and this collects in the bottom bag. Each bag is said to last for a two week period but I’ve found them to have a shelve life of about 7-9 days. Once the bag is filled I throw away the whole moisture trapping apparatus and hang up another. So far, it’s worked pretty well as none of my clothes have molded, although I’ll re-access this whole  system after a couple of more months. Apart from the humidity,  the sun and the rain play a big part in the ebb and flow, no pun intended, of the city. 

I’ve come to see the city as a land of umbrellas. They’re everywhere. They come in all different colors, sizes, and materials.  The are many words in spanish that can mean umbrella. Two of the most common are Paraguas (for waters) and Parasol (for sun) which gives a great insight into how they’re used here in Barranquilla. I’ve come to see the sun and the humidity here as being like a hammer and sickle, as they come hand in hand. Continuing with this reference to communist iconography, every citizen of Barranquilla receives, whether they like it or not, an equal amount of heat and humidity per day. If you can take one of them away from the equation, you will increase your odds of staying cool. An umbrella gives you that option. Using an umbrella to protect one from the strong and hot rays of the Colombian coastal sun is a great way to fight the heat. My host mother, Yurkio, uses an umbrella everyday to take Haruko, my host sister, to and from school even though we live no more than 100 meters away from the school entrance. She knows, as I know do, that staying out of the sun here can really help in the struggle of staying cool. On the other side of the peso, the heavy coastal rains often turn normal urban streets into rivers or arroyos as they’re known here. Arroyo literally translates into stream, although there is nothing "stream’esk" about how dangerous they can be in the streets of Barranquilla. Click Here to see youtube videos of their destructive ways. Apart from the uncontrollable elements of mother nature that have us ducking under umbrellas to dodge rays of sun and fat rain drops, there are many made elements constantly enticing us to sweat and enjoy the heat. The most powerful of all being the rhythms of salsa.

In Barranquilla, salsa is everywhere. It seems to be imprinted in the locals DNA. It’s the rhythm that moves life on the coast making it the unwritten soundtrack to the daily grind. It has no problems with classism as it’s heard coming from store fronts, local shops, buses, taxis, and cars that pass on the street, living rooms, bedrooms, bathrooms, people’s ringtones, local restaurants, local bars, barbershops, salons, billiard halls, gyms, and every other place imaginable. It’s a genre of music that is enjoyed by all age groups which truly makes it a special one. It’s also the only popular genre of latin music that wasn’t actually originated in Latin America, but don’t say that too loud if out in Barranquilla. Most latinos/hispanics, while they might be aware of this interesting tid-bit, would rather live in a world of denial than admit that it was created in the United States. It was born in the barrios of New York among the Latin communities of the 1970’s. In Barranquilla, Joe Arroyo, a local native, is king. His music is like water to the Barranquilleros thirst for salsa. His picture can be seen all around the city and his music, like all salsa, can be heard on every street corner and from every bus, taxi, or car that passes. Salsa is the lifeline of Barranquilla. It permeates throughout the city like the wind. It transcends class and socio-economic boundaries that otherwise would not be crossed. Salsa is the soundtrack of my Barranquilla life. It always provides a perfect latin atmosphere for whatever I may find myself getting into, even if that is a stand off with a “larger than life” cockroach. 

After spending two years in the highlands of Guatemala fighting off cockroaches and rats, I thought that I was more than a seasoned veteran on how to quickly do away with unwanted intruders. Well, I was wrong. While I have my boy scout badge of killing central american highland rats and cockroaches, I more than underestimated the coastal cockroaches. A quick review of Sun Tzu’s Art of War would have been helpful in reminding me to not underestimate my opponents forces - “ Carefully compare the opposing army with your own, so that you may know where strength is superabundant and where it is deficient”. Underestimating my opposing force, in this case a coastal cockroach, left me looking like a chump. I approached the cockroach with a broom in one hand and an overwhelming amount of hubris in the other. My approach was direct. It was an approach I had used many times without fail in Guatemala. I was like a Matador closing in on a bull to inflict the final kill. With broom in hand, I went for the kill. Suddenly something happened that I did not expect. In that moment, I felt the same way that the Aztecs, Mayans, and Incas must have felt upon hearing the first blast of a european musket. I was in shock. Could it really be? Could it be that the coastal humidity, heat, and superior cockroach hunters had forced the South American coastal-roaches to evolve and grow wings? I guess so. Darwinism or some higher power had given these coastal-roaches the power of flight. Not only were they bigger than the Guatemalan cockroaches but they could fly. If they were a car they would be a Hummer . . .  but with wings. While all of this flying costal-roach business had left me to shriek like a child and jump back like I was stepping on hot sand with barefeet, my site-mate, Kendra, who was their to witness this entire endeavor, was not phased at all. Her year in Colombia had apparently already taught her this lesson. So, I collected myself and went back to the matter at hand. I knew I had to come out on top. This time my approach was slower, more calculated, and more cautious. My movements were  slower like that of a samurai and less of a construction worker at the local batting cages. This time, I was aware that the bull was not despondent and waiting for me to administer the final kill but rather very lively and ready to charge. I advanced, swung, and succeeded. I had done it. I won. If it were a goal in soccer, it would have been an Iniesta'esk clutch scoring moment to be heard throughout the ages. Instead, I didn’t remove my shirt and slide on my knees towards the corner flag but simply removed the carcass from my host-family’s garage and went on about my day. Since my first encounter with coastal-roaches, there have been many more stand offs in the vain of Dirty Harry or Kill Bill. Aside from the roaches, I also have a lot of geckos that come and go through my bedroom window. They come in all shapes and sizes and are really fast. Unfortunately, none of them sell car insurance or have posche british accents but anything is possible. All roaches and Geckos aside, let’s talk about flashy clothes and money!

Well, somedays I forget I’m in the Peace Corps. My Barranquilla life has got me getting paid in six figures. My monthly wage is almost a million Colombian Pesos, which, trust me, sounds like a lot more than it actually is. I’ve now more than adapted to the currency but in the first couple of months it was tough to understand how an empanada, a latino hot pocket but more delicious, could cost a thousand pesos if not more. It was hard to justify spending four thousand of anything, let it be pesos or not, for lunch. In the states, you only spend thousands if you’re buying an electronic appliance, car, expensive flight, etc. Here, I can spend thousands on almost anything. I never thought the first time I’d make six figures in life would be A - from the US government and B - from the Peace Corps. My Barranquilla life is a lot more expensive than the one I had in Guatemala. The combination of living in an urban area and having a less favorable exchange rate, between the peso and the dollar, has made things more expensive. My average lunch here in Barranquilla is twice as expensive as it was in Guatemala when translated back into the dollar. Apart from the money, people dress here like there always going somewhere. In every corner of Latin America the people, on the whole, dress ten times better than we do in the United States. Latin America, Colombia’s coast being no exception, is where men always use hair gel even if just going to the corner store and women always wear make-up and high heels even if just going over to Grandma’s house on a Sunday. We, in the United States, sometimes forget that Pajama pants, house slippers, and a beer t-shirt aren’t always appropriate to wear to the mall but it won’t stop us from doing it. At the same time, Barranquilleros sometimes forget their actually in Colombia. I’ve heard many people from the interior, primarily from Cali, Medellin, and Bogota, say that many Barranquilleros think they’re in Miami. Sometimes even I forget that I’m in Colombia. The architecture, the clothes, the people, the foreign cars, the sounds of salsa music, and the caribbean sounding spanish and vocab have me wondering if this is really part of modern day Colombia. The answer is simple. It is. I wonder how much Barranquilla has in common with the rest of the country? At the same time, I could just as easily ask how much Miami has in common with Des Moines, Iowa? With this in mind,  one of the biggest differences between the coast and the interior is the unique language and accent that costeños use. 

Coastal spanish or costeñol,as we like to call it, has a completely different lexicon and is made even more difficult to understand by the lack of pronunciation used here on the coast(Click here to hear the many different accents that Colombia has to offer). People just simply forget to pronounce syllables which makes it very difficult to understand and more so for a non-native speaker. My lexicon, however, is drenched with words that only make sense in the western highlands of Guatemala, although ,with every day here on the coast, it grows to include words that only make sense on the Colombian coast. At the end of this year, my spanish/accent and lexicon will be a profusion of words and inflections from Argentina, Guatemala, and Colombia. The photo to the left was taken at the Museo Del Caribe. It’s a collage of different words that are exclusively used here on the Colombian coast. If you speak spanish, or even if you don’t, try and pronounce some of the words. Many of them are fun to say and cool sounding, so give it a whirl.  Apart from the distinct coastal lexicon, I wonder what other characteristics are unmistakably costeño and what parts of life here are practiced throughout Colombia? 

So far, my time in Barranquilla has been unforgettable. The heat is a tireless and omnipresent force that makes life sticky, but I’d rather suffer sweating than shivering. The evasive coastal-roaches keep life interesting and force me to never snack in bed. The bright fashion forward coastal wardrobe and salsa music gives the city a true caribbean feel. Spending thousands out for a quick bite of lunch makes me feel like I’m an investment banker in Manhattan, even if it is only in Colombian Pesos. The sun, the rain, and the umbrellas that protect us from these two elements have men looking like Fownsworth Bentley and the women looking like Mary Poppins. The coast is truly a unique place. At the same time, I look forward to finding out what the rest of the country has in store, so I may finally answer my own question of what is truly coastal and what is Colombian. Whether you're from the coast or the interior, this Friday at 3:30 PM (local time) all Colombians will unite behind the national team as they take on Uruguay in a World Cup qualifying match. The game will be played in Barranquilla and I’ll be in attendance. It will be my first time going to see the Colombian national team and I can truly say that I’ve waited a lifetime for it. I’ll be accompanied by Eric and Andrew, the other two Fútbol con Corazón volunteers, as well as thousands of other Colombians hoping to see their countrymen take down the current kings of South America. Colombia hasn’t been in a World Cup since 1994 where it entered as favorites but crashed out tragically after a loss to the United States in the group stage. If they beat Uruguay, they’ll be one step closer to qualifying for Brazil 2014 - a dream that I share with the rest of Colombia. Friday couldn’t come quicker as I’ve waited a long time to wear my Colombian national jersey to a game. Fingers crossed - GO COLOMBIA!

P.S. - Anything highlighted in green is a link, so click on 'em!