Sitting in an internet cafe in Taganga, waiting for a room to free up, waiting to book into another backpacker hostal and meet a new slew of characters and exchange first impressions with two questions: where're you from, where're you going? And just like that, we'll probably be halfway to being friends or not.
Went to a lot of museums in Bogota, saw a lot of works by Fernando Botero. Born 1932 in Medellin. Drew a lot of chubby people. Not just people actually, fruits, trees and horses, Jesus on the cross, guitars, houses, were all drawn chubby. Even drew a chubby Mona Lisa, look it up, it's funny. He's not yet dead but the work of other artists on exhibit who had passed away were accompanied by placards detailing only their name, birthplace and death place. By way of introduction. Like:
Andres de Santa Maria
Bogota, 1860 - Brussels 1945
It tells you a lot really but at the same time leaves out everything between. I'm Reading "A Hundred Years of Solitude" in Spanish and it's slow going but one little quote I remember is where Jose Arcadio Buendia says that it doesn't matter where you were born, one is not from a place until one of yours has died there.
Before I had to answer the question "Where're you from?" 5 times a day, I would hesitate before answering, confusing the question with "Who am I?" I'm not really from Edmonton, I'm not really from Hong Kong, I'm not really from Ontario, these are just places I've lived. Now for simplicity's sake, when other backpackers ask, I don't delve into a detailed personal life history, my response is the same as a museum placard would say:
Liang Cheng
Edmonton, 1985 -
Sunday, May 31, 2009
Monday, May 18, 2009
Moving On
After spending 3 weeks in rural Ecuador, coming back to the city feels good and I don't know why. The cars, the horns, the people hurrying around, the teenagers expressing themselves through their clothes, the graffiti, the traffic lights, it's all so familiar. This time it's Quito but all these big cities feel like big cities. Busy, busy people. Saw an old man on the street today, peddling a backscratcher and a toe-nail clipper. His hand was propped up by his walking stick and the toe-nail clipper hung off his finger while the backscratcher stick was propped up, demonstrating these things were for sale. So he sat there half asleep mumbling to himself while offering his two goods for sale. One time he woke up, re-adjusted the scratcher stick so it palm was facing pedestrian traffic, then went back to sleep. I stood there for a while just watching him and giggling to myself but not wanting people to see that I was giggling at him. During that time, the only person that gave a second glance was a 8 or 9 year old boy who stopped dead in his tracks, let go of his mother's hand, went up close to inspect first the goods and then the sleeping man, and then ran back to his mom who had kept walking. I smiled to myself remembering how Kimberley says "Oye" and when little Alex asked my why I was a 'small gringo.' I really miss the kids, I don't know if it's because I'm a big softie or because I'm back in this big, much colder, adult world. I got a million hugs every day for the past three weeks and today, I'll be lucky to get one.
Sunday, May 17, 2009
All Smiles, Snotty Noses and Eager Eyes
Well I've only made it to Ecuador so far. I'm at the Katitawa School in Salasaca (katitawa.blogspot.com).
The day starts at 7 am, cold with porridge already cooking and feet creaking on wooden floors. Quick cup of tea to warm up and a dusty half hour walk uphill to school, passing cactus lined fields, fast flowing irrigation ditches, chickens, pigs, cows and the locals carrying wide loads on their backs. We teacher-volunteers arrive at the school just after 8 am, the dusty volcanic soil undisturbed for just a few more seconds until the orange van of kids arrive and off we go.
Noise and activity, dust flies, as balls and children are to be chased, hundreds of piggybacks given and questions questions questions questions.
We're in the Valley of Volcanoes, at the equator and 3000 meters up, and the weather leads by example, changing temperament quickly, trending towards a burning hot afternoon but unpredictable. The kids follow suit wearing their emotions on their sleeves, one second steadfast refusal to cooperate, the next all smiles, snotty noses and eager eyes looking up at you, wanting to please and wanting to have their way. They've got a lot of love to give, and when they look to me for an authoritative answer, the last thing I want to do is disappoint.
The past weeks have been equally exhausting as rewarding. Constantly trying to be a living example, and trying to be fair and trying to be friendly and also trying to be respected are mentally draining activities. I find myself trying new things everyday, testing out the kids, trying to push the right combination of buttons. To be a friend and to be respected at the same time. I've learned a few things. Everyone wants to win. If you want to be believed, always do what you say. Kids know an empty promise when they hear one, consequence or reward. Kids can be manipulative. Kids get away with a lot. Kids act different when they think no one is watching. Kids learn by example. Kids will do what you let them do.
Eventually the children are trucked away and after cleaning up and closing up, we walk back home in the hot sun, all a little tired. I find myself feeling either satisfied or dejected. I want so badly to make a difference in their lives and the days when I feel like the kids learned something make up for the days I feel like I'm not getting through to them.
I spend the afternoon winding down on the back patio with the guitar I bought, watching a fierce wind push trees and clouds west, toward the fading light. If lucky, the clouds part and snow capped Volcan Chimborazo takes on hints of the orange pink of the setting sun.
We eat dinner, have a few beers, play some cards as the day simmers to an end. The wind dies right down to a stand still and the lights in the valley come out, shimmering and mimicking the constellations. A distant chorus of cows, dogs and donkeys carries across the valley as night fully blankets the valley. Tranquilo. Taking a deep breath of cold mountain air, I imagine even the most boisterous of the kids, the ones that go from class to class running wild, the ones who are always either crying or laughing and nothing in between, even they must be snuggled up in bed, letting sleep creep over them.
I've settled into the routine and loved my time here but I'm on my way out. I'm ready to move on, act on my own accord without thinking about what's best for the kids and how best to teach them. The experience has been unforgettable but I'm leaving unfulfilled. I still want to do more. I will probably come back to teaching again, here or somewhere else but for now, it's quite enough. Done with lesson plans, back to travel plans. Off to Colombia and I've booked my flight from Bogota to Lima on June 10th. Then home.
The day starts at 7 am, cold with porridge already cooking and feet creaking on wooden floors. Quick cup of tea to warm up and a dusty half hour walk uphill to school, passing cactus lined fields, fast flowing irrigation ditches, chickens, pigs, cows and the locals carrying wide loads on their backs. We teacher-volunteers arrive at the school just after 8 am, the dusty volcanic soil undisturbed for just a few more seconds until the orange van of kids arrive and off we go.
Noise and activity, dust flies, as balls and children are to be chased, hundreds of piggybacks given and questions questions questions questions.We're in the Valley of Volcanoes, at the equator and 3000 meters up, and the weather leads by example, changing temperament quickly, trending towards a burning hot afternoon but unpredictable. The kids follow suit wearing their emotions on their sleeves, one second steadfast refusal to cooperate, the next all smiles, snotty noses and eager eyes looking up at you, wanting to please and wanting to have their way. They've got a lot of love to give, and when they look to me for an authoritative answer, the last thing I want to do is disappoint.
The past weeks have been equally exhausting as rewarding. Constantly trying to be a living example, and trying to be fair and trying to be friendly and also trying to be respected are mentally draining activities. I find myself trying new things everyday, testing out the kids, trying to push the right combination of buttons. To be a friend and to be respected at the same time. I've learned a few things. Everyone wants to win. If you want to be believed, always do what you say. Kids know an empty promise when they hear one, consequence or reward. Kids can be manipulative. Kids get away with a lot. Kids act different when they think no one is watching. Kids learn by example. Kids will do what you let them do.
Eventually the children are trucked away and after cleaning up and closing up, we walk back home in the hot sun, all a little tired. I find myself feeling either satisfied or dejected. I want so badly to make a difference in their lives and the days when I feel like the kids learned something make up for the days I feel like I'm not getting through to them.I spend the afternoon winding down on the back patio with the guitar I bought, watching a fierce wind push trees and clouds west, toward the fading light. If lucky, the clouds part and snow capped Volcan Chimborazo takes on hints of the orange pink of the setting sun.
We eat dinner, have a few beers, play some cards as the day simmers to an end. The wind dies right down to a stand still and the lights in the valley come out, shimmering and mimicking the constellations. A distant chorus of cows, dogs and donkeys carries across the valley as night fully blankets the valley. Tranquilo. Taking a deep breath of cold mountain air, I imagine even the most boisterous of the kids, the ones that go from class to class running wild, the ones who are always either crying or laughing and nothing in between, even they must be snuggled up in bed, letting sleep creep over them.
I've settled into the routine and loved my time here but I'm on my way out. I'm ready to move on, act on my own accord without thinking about what's best for the kids and how best to teach them. The experience has been unforgettable but I'm leaving unfulfilled. I still want to do more. I will probably come back to teaching again, here or somewhere else but for now, it's quite enough. Done with lesson plans, back to travel plans. Off to Colombia and I've booked my flight from Bogota to Lima on June 10th. Then home.
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