It really does. Indigo is made from the indigo tree. I can’t tell you much more than that but considering how denim has conquered the world, I think it’s kind of wonderful.
I went to this workshop in El Salvador. Perhaps more about that trip another time.
Once in a while, I find myself in a situation both familiar and exotic. I went to visit family up in Alaska, out in the bush, on the mighty Yukon, and found myself invited to a “potlatch” dinner. The village I visited is primarily inhabited by one tribe of native Americans and the food was truly Alaskan. I didn’t expect to ever be in a “Bizarre Foods” episode but I guess that’s what it was to my Facebook audience.
Sitting at the dinner, being served by the youths, it was a heartwarming study in respect. There was way more than enough food but only the elders got the choice pieces of seal blubber, moose nose, and jarred silvers (pickled “silver” salmon). Everyone got ham slices the size of lumber, pasta salads in infinite variety, fish chowder, moose stew, moose soup, spaghetti, jerky, pudding with marshmallows, slaw, goose, and more pasta salad. It was considered rude to refuse any food so every place setting was outfitted with ziplock bags so that everyone would have food for the taking.
I was raised to “try everything once” and to be polite… the moose nose was very sticky and chewy a bit like pig ear (if you know what that tastes like). The fish ice cream was interesting and I could see how that would be the best treat on a cold winter day as it provides fat, creamy tartness. I imagine that when cold, it’s even better. The three flavors I tried were cranberry, salmon berry (I guess from the pink color), and “black” berry which is a small pearl-like berry, smaller than a blueberry and not of much flavor. The cranberry was the best because of the tartness. The ice cream is only slightly sweet and I totally get why it’s called ice cream.
Now, don’t call me Andrew.
I did it! 120 kilometers of Bogota’s Ciclovia. Okay, almost all of it. The city continues to change the map. So I did what I could on the 2015 map.
Sometimes, I’d get to a part that seemed like a simple “stay straight” and follow the signs. Not so. I would get to a part of the marked route, and then nothing. The route would simply end like an appendix (in the body; not in a book). No real purpose (why do we have one?) and no reason for it to end. I’d go down and suddenly it would end. Then I’d have to turn around and go back on the same route I’d just biked down.
Having now spent many days on Ciclovia, I have three wishes:
My favorite parts have been down south. Much more to explore. Better prices.
“What is that pain? Do you smell bacon?” I thought to myself as I stood atop Machu Picchu, one of the wonders of the world. It was high noon and I was in short pants. With bare feet. Standing at the oculus of the Incan empire. Getting fried like a piece of bacon on a grease fire.
Aside from the bacon sensation, I tried to focus on the spirituality of Machu Picchu. Without doubt, it’s beautiful. A bucket list place, done. Even in the harsh flattening light of mid-day and crawling with 2,000 tourists (or whatever the daily quota is these days), Machu Picchu is still awesome. Just like the bus ride up from Aguas Calientes was awesome. Even after endless ruins and crenellations razoring one valley after another, it was still impressive. Go there if you can. Maybe do the early morning tour.
So now I’ve seen it. The number one destination in South America. Yes, it was worth it. They even have an “accessible” (handicap) path for those in wheelchairs! I loved it. Me encanta!
It’s amazing to stand there on Machu Picchu, breathless from altitude and wonder. Imagine the sweat it took to build it.
And I’m whinging about a few painful sunburns.
I got a new lens. For the geeks, it’s a 75-300mm. All I know is that it allows me to zoom in from across the plaza. Right in tight on people’s faces. Or bird faces.
These photos were taken in Peru, in Iquitos, on the Amazon. All the subjects agreed to be photographed (the humans put on their tribal wear during the day to participate in the educational tours given to tourists).
People have fascinating faces and this zoom provides another tool for portraiture.The real personality shows up when the camera isn’t right in their faces.
As I kept saying when taking these photos: “me encanta” or “I love it.”
One day, I had the brilliant (so I thought) idea of ordering a whole bunch of items at my favorite Chinese restaurant in Bogota. I figured that given the price of ingredients, I might as well buy the food ready-made. Also, ordering many dishes would allow me to nibble from many different dishes… I got an accomplice who rather fancied the idea for herself. So we ordered quite a few dishes including a few repeats (sometimes you just don’t want to share the appetizer, am I right?). — Pause here… we waiting in anticipation… —
Suddenly, the chef came out of the kitchen. He yelled at us in Mandarin for five minutes. Five minutes of gesticulating and yelling. I kept smiling. Five minutes of the chef yelling at us that we had ordered too much food.
Finally, the Colombian waiter stopped him by saying the Chinese word for “to go.” The chef stomped back to the kitchen. Then I laughed. I had leftovers all week long.
The following time, I took a larger group and when a Mandarin speaker tried to get chummy with the chef, the chef recognized me and said, “She knows.” And this time I completely understood him.
Sometimes you don’t want something new, but just want to fix your old favorite. I had a leather watch which had been worn so much that the strap had disintegrated and one of the pins was missing. The tricky part was that the watch strap was extremely narrow at under a centimeter (half inch) so most standard watch straps were too big. But, I figured in a place like Bogota, with its leather district and leather fame, this would be something I could easily get fixed.
I did a bit of research into watch shops (called “relojeria” since the word for watch is “reloj” and it is a piece of jewelry – hence many shops are also “joyeria”s which I like to see just because it has the word “joy” in it. I imagine that they are also shops of joy). The word for watch is the same as the word for clock so I discovered quite a few shops where I could get my grandfather clock repaired. If I needed that.
One Saturday morning (as many shops are closed on Sundays and many also close around 3 p.m. on Saturdays — makes me feel like I’m in Europe in the 80s), I set out with my addresses scribbled on a piece of paper. The address was “C.C. Granahorrar L-3 – 30” so once I looked up that it was a “El Castillo Centro Comercial” and was located on the corner of Carrera 7 and Calle 72 in a neighborhood or building called “Chile,” I figured that I had sufficient information to head out. After all, Carrera 7 (Called “Septima” — the main boulevard of Bogota) is easy to find.
I thought it would be fun to walk down 15 just to see what was there. When I turned on Calle 72, I was excited to see a “centro” with the word Chile in it that I went in and walked around level 3. Twice. I went into a bookstore/wine store where it was possible to browse books while imbibing in a glass of wine. Very civilized. I finally realized that I was not in the right mall. So I made use of the facilities (which included miniature toilets for children) and headed back out.
When I got to the corner of 7 and 72, I looked at all four corners. Each building had a name but not the one I was looking for. I saw a security guard and went over to ask him for help. One thing I appreciate about Bogota is that most of the taxi drivers and security guards are literate so they can read an address if I show it to them. This makes it easier for a foreigner like me. (I recall many years ago, getting into a taxi in Bangkok and confidently showing a hand written address to the driver. What ensued was a lot of gestures, smiles, and yelling above the roar of the traffic as we zigzagged through traffic. Finally I grasped that he couldn’t read. He pulled up next to another taxi and indicated that I should get into the other taxi. The other taxi driver could read.) Back in present day Bogota, the guard studied my piece of paper and scratched his head (okay, no, he didn’t but if life were a cartoon, he would have) while muttering the text out loud. Finally, he said in a Eureka sort of voice, “ah, Granahorrrrrar, si!” Then he told me that the building called the Big Savings (Granahorrar) is actually on 71. He then pointed down the street and told me to walk one block. I thanked him (I’ve been to trying to use “muy amable” more as I think this sounds so nice) and confidently set off. A few blocks later, I looked up and noticed that the sign said 74. The guard had pointed me in the wrong direction.
After a good laugh, I decided to give up (I’d been walking for hours) and try another day.
A few days later, I was wasting time before a dinner when I wandered around 72 again. On a small street off of 72, I saw a sign saying “relojeria.” The shop was about the size of a mattress. When I walked in, as always, I was greeted. (Without fail, you will get greeted when you walk into a store here. I have to remember to always say “Buenas + dias/tarde/noche” every time I enter a shop or call a person or see someone for the first time that day.) In the store, I peered into the glass display counters to see if there was anything as tiny as the watch I needed fixed. I asked if they fixed watches with leather straps (a “pulso”). I asked how much it would cost. She said 3,000 pesos (about $1.50). I got a business card and said that I’d be back. The address was Carrera 10, # 72-86.
On the following Saturday, I set out. Again. When I got to the shop, the gate was down. But, next to it, was a workshop, and it was open. I walked in setting off a deafening alarm. From behind a wooden screen, a man appeared and asked what I was looking for. I explained and showed him the watch. Just then, two women entered the shop carrying a cheap purple roller suitcase. They asked if it could be fixed. The craftsman sucked through his teeth, showed them where the suitcase was broken, and then said that he would try and fix it. He added that suitcases like that were only intended to hold 20 kilos. They left the suitcase with him and left the shop.
The man then ducked under a counter and began searching through his watch straps. One after another, they were too big. More boxes were ripped open. No match. Finally, like Goldilocks, he found one that was the right size. Did I prefer it in brown or black? I chose and he set to work. He took out a pin and cleaned out the metal parts of the watch. He commented that there was lots of water in the pinholes. I explained that the watch was 40 years old. He looked at me in amazement and said that the watch was the same age as him. In two minutes, he had fixed the watch. (During our exchange, he tried to help me out with words in English but I continued in Spanish even though I appreciated his effort). The whole transaction including the new genuine leather strap cost 18,000 pesos ($9). When I gave him too much money by mistake, he gave me some back and told me to be careful.
A few weeks later, I went back with a favorite pair of shoes where the glued inner soles had worn out. When I asked him if he could fix them, he sucked through his teeth again and said, “no.” But, then he grabbed the side of the sole and ripped it out. Then he pulled out a bag of soles and while tut-tutting (not audibly), tested out different ones after the size that I told him was clearly not the size of the shoe. The total for the new soles was $7.
I asked him if he could take two pairs of shoes and combine them. He said, “It can be done” in a tone of voice that actually said, “anything is possible but it might not turn out as you imagine.”
While I can’t understand some of the road signs and the altitude is exhausting, the most shocking thing about moving to Bogota is how tongue-tied I feel. In order not to seem rude, every person has to be addressed in Spanish. While there are places in the U.S. where I only hear Spanish spoken, the big difference is that I’m not expected to respond in Spanish. So far, here in Bogota, the people I’ve talked to have been incredibly nice about my stunted Spanish. But then again, the phrases have been extremely simple:
“Buenas” = “goods” for good morning, good afternoon, good evening.
“Muchisimas gracias” = a million thanks (rough translation)
“Muy amable” – you are so kind/so nice of you
“Que tenga buen dia” = “Have a nice day.”
The other night, I realized that after months and months of Spanish classes, I didn’t know how to say to the waiter, “yes, you may take my plate.”
I won’t go into all the mistakes that I’m making when I manage to actual get a few words out. So far, the funniest part of speaking Spanish was when I was ordering a sandwich and I thought I’d stick to something simple like a ham and cheese… then the sandwich lady asked me, “jamon de pavo o jamon de cerdo?” Turkey ham? Or pork ham? I wasn’t aware that “ham” was generic for “lunch meat.”
The other shocking thing is figuring out the currency. At the current exchange rate, it’s about 1,881 Colombian pesos to one U.S. dollar. So far, I’ve been knocking off three zeros, dividing by half and adding a little on top. Is it my new math?
The thing I like most about blogging is that it’s such an easy way to write. To tell a story. I can only think of a few people whom I’ve met who didn’t want to tell me their stories, and even then, they certainly had a story to tell. The skill of storytelling is a form of art. I support everyone’s right (ha! write!) to tell their story.
After I published my photo book, M’s Adventures in Bangladesh, I got many, almost desperate (so great is this desire to share a story and to be published), questions about where to publish for yourself. In the past, this form of publishing was sometimes called “vanity press” but I like CreateSpace’s term better: independently publish. The printing process keeps getting more and more democratic. Most online sites have free options and publishing costs keep getting lower and lower. They even offer e-book publishing for those who want to publish in that format.
Blurb.com: on all the bloggers’ lips, apparently, it’s easy peasy and they will take your entire blog and convert it to a book for you.
Lulu.com:Â less known, but I chose it because supposedly it would be easy to get my book on Amazon… but it’s not as easy as one might think. You can get an ISBN for your book if you want to sell your book in a brick and mortar book store.
CreateSpace: Amazon (yup, the magic word) owns this publishing house.
Also, there are many online printing companies to choose from (Snapfish, Vistaprint, etc.). My first attempt was going directly through my iPhoto program, but there were too many aggravating glitches in the program for it to be worth my while, plus they did not offer bulk discounts. I found Lulu easy. Perhaps for my next book, perhaps on Colombia or on food, I will try one of the other options. In many parts of the world, printing on the local economy is a very viable option, but for an ever-moving expat, online is the way to go.
Of course, you don’t have to sell your book. So, all you writers, bloggers, storytellers, raconteurs, tell your story. Even if, you end up doing a limited print run, of one.
Learning a new language (and culture) is both fun, and sometimes, funny. The general assumption about Spanish is that you can put an “o” on the end of the wordo (see, like that) and that this “o” will make it Spanish. Lots of the words are the indeed the same or similar in English and Spanish. These are called cognates. An example is dictionary: diccionario. Looks the same, must be the same. But, how easily one can land, mouth on foot! Here are some other words and phrases that can make for sticky or embarrassing situations (does my quick doodle better illustrate the point?).
Also, today is “martes trece” or “Tuesday the 13th” which is the equivalent to “Friday the Thirteenth” — a day of bad luck, a day not to leave your house, not to start a new business, etc. in Spanish-speaking countries. Perhaps a day to stay indoors looking up funny cognates online. I am taking note of these as I go along, so if I get them wrong, please comment! I look forward to trying to avoid too many encounters of foot in mouth once I get to Colombia.
Now that M’s Adventures, the blog, is almost three years old, I decided to try a different design. I’ve also added a few new pages, currently under construction, on food, travel, and bucket-less lists. Please take a look. I am trying to better organize the information I’ve written (more than 180 blog postings so far!), so I hope that this new layout helps. Yes?
Also, happy Bengali New Year!
Wedding season has ended in Bangladesh and it will soon begin in the U.S. so I’ve been thinking about wedding gifts.
One day in Bangladesh, I was invited to a friend’s house and saw these painted stairs. They were painted as a wedding present. This colorful daily reminder reminds them of their friend, and their wedding, every day.
This would probably not work in the U.S., but one could offer some other gift from the heart.