Have now lived in Colombia for over a month (?!?!?!). No more sign of my secret admirer, but meanwhile more important things have been happening.
First, the event with my internship three weeks ago, the Congreso de los Pueblos – huge gathering of thousands of people from all over the country, five days long, with speeches, forums, cultural events, and a massive march through the city at the end. I went with another guy from Witness, Diego, to accompany the event, meaning we were there to sort of… observe passively. The idea of accompaniment is that, as internationals, we don’t participate in demonstrations, but just by being there, we show that an issue is getting international attention, and that attention is a form of protection and encouragement for people that have chosen to stand up against some really powerful, influential opponents. A lot of the people at the Congreso, for example, were indigenous or Afro-Colombians, farmers, students, etc, who often don’t get a strong voice in national decision-making. And they came with a lot of demands concerning land rights, labor rights, etc., that most politicians and big businessmen don’t really want to hear. Here, confronting such powerful people can be seriously dangerous to one’s life. So that’s why we were there.
The weekend was fascinating. It was like they brought their small towns and rural lifestyle and just transplanted it right into the middle of Bogotá. Everyone camped out on a university campus. People started cooking fires, boiling giant vats of soup for lunch, smoking pigskins, and brewing fresh, homemade chicha. Tents and tarps formed little settlements. A long pipe was constructed to pump out water for simple, open, community showers. Little kids played in the grass. Small informal music circles broke out. I saw a Bogotano student on clarinet join in with an Afro-Colombian drumline, a whole new sound you wouldn’t traditionally hear. That was the point of the whole thing. To join forces. But the most magical part of it all was the weather. Prior to the Congreso, it rained every single day in Bogotá for two weeks, like clockwork. Miserable. That weekend, though, some of the events’ indigenous leaders let us know that their tribes’ elders had been at work in the mountains, performing rituals to ask Mother Nature to bless the event with good weather. And it stayed sunny for seven whole days. Only a few scarce drops, and the rest of the time we saw beautiful, clear skies. The power of being in touch with nature like that is astounding – I absolutely believe it made a difference.
So we saw the whole event, met a lot of people from all across Colombia, as well as some other accompaniers from various countries/organizations. We sampled regional flavors, observed dances, music, and works of art, and we witnessed a lot of passionate people at work. Many in Colombia really do struggle to hold onto some of the most basic of human rights. It was amazing to watch the emotion and the resolve they displayed when talking about their communities’ challenges, and even more, their personal experiences. Once again, you can read the blog post I wrote afterwards, here.
With the Congreso and work surrounding it, my birthday arrived before I could blink. Since it fell on a Monday, and since 23 is not exactly a landmark year, I didn’t really expect much, but I got a good extended weekend out of it. A friend from Mexico, Andres, arrived Friday to help me celebrate, and he was barely off the plane before I rushed him off to party hop. Most interesting was a bicentennial-themed party, since Colombia also celebrated 200 years of independence this year. People in 17th-century costumes everywhere, in a really old house with lots of creaky-floored dark rooms, music on every floor, and a fire. Chevere, as they say. Then, Sunday, met up with a friend from AU, Jorge Andres, and his friend from the States, Ryan, who, small world, is also from Saint Louis. Jorge showed us what Bogotanos do on Sundays – leave Bogotá. We got lunch in Chia, a little town about an hour outside the city that pretty much only exists for upper/middle-class Bogotanos to visit on weekends. Great food though, and a pretty drive.
Finally, then, the big day: I rang in my birthday at midnight with shots of cheap rum in the restaurant next door, surrounded by loud Italian Miguel, his Colombian wife Ingrid, the waitress, Sandra, my neighbors – Italian Walter, Puerto Rican George, Colombian Eduardo, Israeli Raz, and his dog, Chico – and Andres. Ingrid played a video of “Las Mañanitas” on youtube for me – the traditional Latin American birthday song, with a little cartoon mouse in a sombrero serenading you. Sometimes I think about how I used to imagine my life when I reached this age. Like I’m so old, I’m reminiscing on the illusions of my youth. Anyway this is definitely nowhere near what I pictured, and that makes me happy.
Birthday-day, went up Montserrate with Andres, Jorge, and Ryan. Montserrate is pretty much THE tourist attraction in Bogotá – church on top of a mountain that overlooks the city. We took a small train up, but they say if you hike it, you get absolved of all your sins. Amen. Anyway at the top, besides the rather generic little church, there’s an amazing view of the city and tons of vendors selling really typical Colombian food and beverages. We lunched on ajiaco, arepas, mazorca, canelazo, and coca tea. After one last look down the mountain, we descended, took a walk around downtown to check out some other landmarks (Presidential Residence, Casa de Monedas, Plaza Bolivar, etc.), and went for dinner and drinks. Aaaand just to make the good times last, we rounded it all off with dinner again the following night at Andres DC, a restaurant/club that reigns as the favorite celebration spot in the city for twenty-somethings. Since I arrived, there has been some kind of party at Andres at least once every weekend. Never a bad choice.
And so time flies!
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