Colombia

5 steps to survive taking an electric shower

March 18, 2018 Elle Featured Post Wanderlust

2018 Michelle checking in here: The electric shower is a scary occurrence in several areas of central/south America. One one hand, I’m grateful for hot, flowing water; on the other hand, I was seriously scared for my life. BUT figuring out how to work this calamity was one of my greater travel achievements. I don’t think there will be electric showers in Rwanda, but if there are, it’s OK. I’ve figured that out once before.

The shower in my hostel in Bogotá. It’s a toss-up: You may get clean; you may die

Either this was such a traumatic experience for me before that I’ve put it out of my memory or this is some Colombian designed torture device; this is what greeted me the morning after my arrival to Bogotá.

It’s a large electrical time bomb hanging above my head; luckily all the ends of the electrical wires were covered in electrical tape. I have since found out that this is not always true nor is this device confined to Colombia.

5 steps to surviving an electric shower

Is it high enough so that you will not hit your head? I’ve had problems with showers before that were mounted for people no taller than 5 feet tall. Luckily, all the electrical showers I’ve encountered are way up there out of the way of an errant splash.
Are there any bare wires that could come in contact with water? Did you bring electrical tape? If not, a wash cloth and the sink might be the best option.
Get naked. Do your thing, and get out. If you have rubber soled sandals, wear them. This is not the time to reminisce about the day. Chances are the water won’t be at optimum temperature anyway. The only way I’ve found to control the temperature of the water is to control the flow of the water. There’s a science-y explanation for this but essentially the water needs time to roll through the metal plumbing to heat it up before it before comes out. So you can have warm water flowing like maple syrup in winter or cold water flowing like a fire hydrant. But not both. Your choice.
If the pop off valve does indeed pop off– DO. NOT. SCREAM. Like I did the first time this happened to me. Uninvited visitors will show up and cause some slight embarrassment. It is supposed to keep water from spraying up into the wires which could save your life,. However, I have found that they just pop off whenever they feel like it.
Yay! You are clean, but also soaking wet. How to turn off the faucet? You will only reach for the metal knobs once before muscle memory kicks in and you will remember why you never want to do in again. Nobody in these parts have ever heard of grounding wires. My suggestion is to have a small towel–hand towel sized–that you use for turning off the knobs.

No need to fear the electrical, non-grounded shower. I, like several before me have survived; you can survive it too.

Traveling Recap–Did it Change My Life?

January 6, 2013 Elle Wanderlust

As my travels are winding down and I’m looking for a more permanent existence, I have started doing a little reflection on my trip. 16 months away is a long time to be away. Was it life changing? Not in any dramatic way [although I did make one big decision as a result of my volunteer experiences]. Did I make a difference in some one else’s life? Maybe on some small level for at least the time I was there. I can’t say what happened after I left. Did I meet my goals? Yes. My goals of the trip was to have fun, engage in meaningful volunteer experiences, and meet new people. I am a little bit torn.

In one way, I feel like I could go on traveling forever. There is a great big world out there, and this experience has taught me that I have only seen a tiny part of it. In another way, I am ready to start down the path of my new career. I am a little bit scared. It will be a long road. I don’t know when I will be able to travel again, especially like this. I feel conflicted about going “home.” Do I even have a home to go to? I have friends that I want to be near. I can’t wait to see the children in my life, and how much they have changed.

Wandering without being lost–Laguna Miscanti, Atacama Desert, Chile 2010

There are things I have missed–such as having a regular study spot, sleeping in my own bed, taking a bath in my own bathtub–hot water and all, and of course my kitties. I have people who I want to see although I have learned I can make friends with nearly anyone. So in one aspect I am ready to get home, tackle what I need to tackle in order to meet my goals. Another part of me says traveling is so easy–much more so than real life, so I should continue doing that. I think my next international trip will be to some part of Eastern Europe. I am not sure where or when, but until then I have a little more that half of the United States to explore [and now I have new friends in previously untraveled parts of the country].

Thinking about what to do

I know people are going to ask…

Since I know the questions will be coming, I spent a few minutes in thought about the best and worst parts of my trip. Here goes:

Andean Condor in flight

Highlights: unexpected almost free trip to the Galápagos Islands, Iguazu Falls, seeing Aconcagua, being at the end of the world
Low lights: catching malaria during my first month of my trip. I didn’t show symptoms for about 6-8 weeks though. Or at least that’s the best guess based on when I was entering and exiting the Amazon.

Blue footed Booby

Thing I wish I hadn’t lost: my head lamp. I actually know where I left it; I was just too far gone before I realized it. I have been in the dark ever since then.
Thing I wish I had lost: I never used my rain poncho. I gave it to some kids and they had a blast playing with it.
Most useful items: Zune with speakers, Swiss army knife, sheet, travel pillow
Least useful items: camera accessories (I used them because I had them, but I would have been fine without them), umbrella
Best new food: Manjarblanco with apples…. mmmmmm
Worst new food: cuy–too small, too little meat, too much work, and too greasy

Santa Catalina Monastery

Funniest moment: “beerbombs”–how my Brazilian friend Henrique pronounced/understood the explanation of “beer-pong”
Scariest moment: There were two: 1. Being pounded into the rocks like a rag doll with a surf board tied to my feet, not being able to catch my breath, or regain my balance, and looking back and seeing nothing more than a wall of water coming my way…really thought I might die that way. 2. Being kidnapped by rouge taxi drivers crossing the border from Peru to Ecuador who tried to extort money from me.
Favorite place visited: Angel Falls, so remote, so beautiful and Usuhaia… for the same reasons as Angel Falls

Lake Titicaca

Least favourite place visited: the midad del mundo monument… so overrated
Favorite new activity: para sailing… its like floating in the air
Least favourite new activity: Surfing, I could never master it, but the one or two times I did,, it was amazing
Favourite countries: Argentina and Colombia
Least favourite countries: Paraguay and Ecuador
Favourite cities: Mendoza, AR, and Santa Marta, CO
Least favourite cities: Santiago, Chile and Rio de Janeiro, BR (just too big)

Cartagena, Colombia… one of my favorite cities

Conversations from a bar

January 29, 2012 Elle Featured Post Wanderlust

Every empty bottle is filled with stories.

Raise your glass

This is a conversation that occurred in a Colombia bar in August, 2010.

Colombia is a beautiful country. The Andes Mountains, the Amazon jungle, the Cocora valley are all amazing. In addition to the natural beauty, Colombia has beautiful people. Some of them are naturally beautiful and some of them–well, they have a little help. The plastic surgeons in Colombia do a fantastic job. Medellin is my third stop in Colombia. It is kind of like Goldilocks and the 3 bears. The weather in Bogota was too cold. The weather in Leticia was too hot, but the weather in Medellin is just right. The days are warm and the nights are cool. It feels like fall [or spring].

Last night, I went out with some English/Australian guys that were staying in the same hostels [Funny story: We had actually met on the cable car that goes to the top of the city.] So at some point during the evening after an indeterminate number of drinks, in an unidentified bar, a conversation much like the following took place:

Guy 1: “Are those real?” (referring to boobs, but not mine of course)
Me: “Nope. No way”.
Guy 2: “Yeah. I reckon. You can tell the difference.”
Guy 1: “Aha ha. I agree. Definite difference in shape.”
Me: “Yeah. But there’s no way that they could be real.
Guy 2: Compare hers (Colombian chic) to hers (mine). Definite extra perkiness. No offense” (referring to Colombian chic)
Guy 1: “I’m still not convinced. They’re too good to be real.”
Me: “Why don’t you just ask her?”
Guy 1: “Huh?”
Guy 2: “What?”
Me: “Just ask her”
Guy 1: “That would be funny.”
Me: “Yeah. Go on. Or I will.”
Guy 2: “I don’t know. That’s pretty random. Imagine if someone came up to you and…”
Me: “C’mon’. It’s the only way to settle it. Fuck it. I’ll do it…”
Me and two guys in a bar

So somewhere, in the night, after an indeterminate number of drinks plus a few more, in the same unidentified bar, another conversation, much like the following, took place:

Guy 1: “What the fuck did you touch them for?”
Me: “She said I could.”
Guy 1: “And so you just grabbed them?”
Me: “Yep.”
Guy 2: “And?”
Me: “Real.”
Guy 1: “Definitely? Did she say so?”
Me: “Yep.”
Guy 2: “What did she say exactly?”
Me: “They’re real. Good hmm?
Guy 2: “In English?”
Me: “In English.”
Guy 2: “Fuck off”

Me : You know, that’s the first time I’ve ever touched a pair of boobs other than my own…
Me and two guys in a bar

These are definitely fake

Conversations similar to the one above are, probably, not uncommon in Medellin. It is, apparently, the plastic surgery capital of the world in a country that is probably the most plastic surgerized in the world. Or at least close to. Such a place has a significant reputation to live up to. However, Medellin does it with aplomb, cosmetic surgical intervention striking you anywhere you turn. Seriously, fake boobs are everywhere. They are more normal than natural boobs.

If you don’t have them, you’re the odd one out. Old woman have them. Girls far younger than the legal drinking age have them. Yes, I even saw a cat that had them (this may or may not be true… this may or not have occurred at the bar). I read somewhere, but I now don’t recall where, that the prevalence of silicon in Medellin is largely due to Medellin’s former status as the center of the world cocaine trade. Don’t ask me why that means fake boobs all over the place – I guess drug lords liked them big. In any event, the reality remains, and it is one scary, bouncy and far too perky reality.

The same can be said for the fellas

Fernando Botero

The theory attributing Medellin’s curvaceousness to the drug lords is a popular one. However, my own personal theory is that the female of residents of Medellin are paying homage to the great Colombian artist, Fernando Botero.

Medellin born and Medellin raised, Botero’s sculptures dominate the public artistic landscape of central Medellin, his ludicrously proportioned, voluptuous and humorous bronze figures in the Plaza Botero in particular a highlight. If you are not familiar with Botero’s work, I can probably sum it up for you in a single word – fat. Not ‘ph’ fat. Just plain old ‘fat’. Like everything being seen through one of those crazy mirrors that makes everything look fat. Not ‘ph’ fat. Just plain old lazy bastard fat. Having viewed a reasonably large collection of his work in Bogota, it’s clear to me that his work is at its most impressive in sculpture – the central focus of his work, the roundedness aka ‘fat’, most effective and striking when experienced in three dimensions. Fat. Not ‘ph’ fat. Just good old ‘if it sits on you it’s going to hurt’ fat.

Beginning in Bogotá

January 8, 2012 Elle Wanderlust

Ok, I’ll be the first to admit it. I was not enthusiastic when my flight to Maracaibo was canceled and Bogotá became my first South American stop. My original plan was to skipped the Colombian capital altogether and I was not at all excited to visit Bogotá. In hindsight, Bogotá most definitely was a better [and probably safer] introduction to South America than Maracaibo.

I read so many horror stories of mugging. I hadn’t found any articles in which people were raving about the city. It seemed like most people were rushing through Bogotá, hitting up the most important museums, using it as a transit stop and moving on quickly to the next place. Whatever that place may be.

Part of the reason I chose South America was that, in theory, I speak Spanish fluently. Or at least I did a few years ago. I was feeling a little isolated since I am trying to not speak English at all, but today that changed. Not that I magically became fluent overnight, but it is (slowly) coming back to me.

For example, today I took the Transmileno to the other side of Bogotá for no reason than to see another part of the city (It rained while I was riding the bus instead of walking the streets. I call that a win-win) .

Bogota’s buses going through the rain and again in the sun

What is this fruit deliciousness

On the return trip, I had conversation with an elderly gentleman who sat next to me. It was nothing serious, weather, I’m new in town, ect, but it was a chance to practice Spanish with someone who didn’t speak crazy fast. I’m feeling a little more confident. After successfully ordering lunch [3 courses $5500 COP ~$3.25], I stopped in the frutería. Fruiteria = a store only for fruit… these are some of the things I love about being away–I’d never get that in the USA.

I only wanted to get a few snacks for the road, but I was talked into a fruit salad. Nothing like I’ve ever had. It included mango, papaya, pear, banana, and a couple other fruits I have never seen before. Before leaving, I ask the fruit man Que es esto? esto y esto, and very patiently he shows me all the fruits in the store, both in the natural state and the cut up state. So while my fruit salad was only slightly less than lunch, the education about fruit was worth the $2.75 price tag.

Bogotá is a city of more than 8 million people. And as much as I am not a big-city person, I still find big cities fascinating. Just don’t expect me to move to one. I arrived at El Dorado airport at 2a, a full one day + 18 hours after my intended arrival time. I just wanted to get into a bed as quickly as possible. So I took a taxi, which I hate, to my hostel in Candelaria, where I promptly crashed for a few hours.

The next morning, I started to explore the city, and I noticed two things right away: the altitude [O.M.G breathing is so hard] and the thick layer of gray clouds that hover over the city on most days. The altitude – Bogotá sits at 8,675 feet– caused me to huff and puff my way up and down Candelaria’s steep streets like a chain-smoking asthmatic. I never got used to it during my two weeks in the city. Bogotá is not exactly warm either. I can see why it’s off the radar with most travelers. Especially travelers coming from sea level, tropical temperatures, and perfect weather.

I joined a few of the free walking tours during my stay. They are excellent for getting one’s bearings straight in a new city, finding out a few more details about places to hit up, and addressing safety concerns. They are also good for traveling by yourself but having safety in numbers.

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