Everybody's Working for the Weekend

I have a variation of the same conversation every day with my doorman. We exchange hellos, then we say how we’re feeling. Given I usually see him at 6:25 am and then again when I return from work, my response is usually “Estoy muy cansada.” I am tired.

Depending on the day of the week, he replies with (in Spanish), “Yes, very tired, of course. It’s Monday.” Or, “Yes, very tired, but it’s almost Friday.”

Today, he responded, “It’s okay because it’s Juernes!”

Juernes is a combination of the words Thursday (Jueves) and Friday (Viernes). At first I thought it was a Colombian saying similar to our “TGIF,” but after living here for two months, I’ve realized it’s just another excuse to party.

It starts on Wednesday. Every hump day, my upstairs neighbor has her girlfriends over. At 8pm the salsa music begins. At 8:30, I hear the clacking of heels on my ceiling. And from about 9pm to one in the morning, I hear them “woooooing” out on the terrace.

Thursday, before class starts, I hear my students talking about all the parties that are happening over the weekend. The boys talk about who they want to make out with and how drunk they’re going to get, and the girls talk about how they’re going to get their hair done and what they’re going to wear. Teaching is difficult.

Then there’s Friday. Reggaeton music pounds through outdoor speakers at lunch time and kids from all grades swarm the cafeteria, shoveling food into their mouths as quickly as possible so they can go dance with friends. The music continues to blast until school lets out at 3:10. If you have class after lunch, you’re screwed.

When I get home at 3:45, my doorman already has the door open, and is salsa dancing with an imaginary woman. A smile takes over his face as he shouts, “Señorita Jennifer! Es Viernes! Que rumba?” He tells me he hopes I’m going out dancing and drinking lots of beer. He also tells me I’ll have a hangover on Saturday and Sunday.

This Friday (tomorrow) will be extra crazy—student council is throwing an “end of the summer picnic party,” complete with hotdogs and hamburgers for lunch. Students won’t have to wear uniforms, and there’s even a mango stand outside the cafeteria (think snow cones but with shredded mango instead of ice).

At the beginning of the school year, I would have fought the kids and tried to teach them something. But tomorrow I plan on showing funny YouTube videos.

I also plan on dancing with my doorman at 3:45, and living my weekend like the Colombians do.

Then Monday will come, and the dialogue with my portero will start all over again. 

Let's Talk About the Weather

The weather in Bogotá is as unpredictable as my 14-year-old students. One minute everything’s great, and the next, it seems the world is coming to an end.

Unfortunately, in both situations, things are usually a bit gloomy. So it’s critical to always be prepared: lots of layers, an umbrella, and most importantly, a positive attitude. 

When I woke up this morning, rays of sunshine peaked through the window. My usual nighttime uniform of flannel pajamas and thermal socks felt unnecessary. (Side note: apartments here don’t come with heat or air conditioning. The average temperature of 55 degrees doesn’t require either.)

Knowing I only had an hour or two to enjoy the balmy weather, I quickly changed into running clothes and headed for a park about a 20-minute walk from my apartment.

I tilted my head towards the sun and soaked up the vitamin D. I smiled at the man on my block selling avocados. I greeted the women on the streets frying eggs and arepas (corn griddle cakes usually filled with cheese). The flowers being sold at stands throughout the city somehow masked the odor of car exhaust. I stopped and breathed in their sweet scent.

Parque El Virrey 

When I got to Parque El Virrey, I stopped into Juan Valdez, Colombia’s answer to Starbucks. The next hour was spent watching parents treat their kids to balloons, dogs playing fetch, and women, with full hair and makeup, rollerblading. I sipped my cappuccino and took in my surroundings.

When asked how I like Bogotá, sometimes it’s hard to answer. The language barrier has been difficult. The city is polluted and crowded with buses and taxis. The gap between rich and poor in painfully apparent. But on a day like today, when the sun in shining and I have nothing to do but drink coffee, it’s nice.

As I walked back to my apartment, the sky darkened. The wind picked up and it started drizzling. My teeth chattered and I reached in my purse for a rain jacket.

My pace quickened, but several blocks later I found myself at a traffic light, next to a woman selling fragrant tiger lilies. She held out a bouquet for me to smell and smiled. She was missing most of her teeth.

I bought the flowers and continued walking. The woman yelled after me in a strained, hoarse voice, and told me to have a wonderful day. I stopped and waved to her, telling her to do the same.

Her hair was already soaked and so were her clothes. But she was still wearing that beautiful, toothless smile. 

Lines and Laughter in Bogotá

I gasped for air and kept peddling, my head down so the spinning instructor wouldn’t see me laughing.

“Is it just me, or is he doing a sexy dance on top of the bike?” my friend Kari said on the bicycle next to me.

In the dark room, a spotlight highlighted the instructor’s deep-set eyes as he stared out into his audience. Beads of sweat rolled down his neck. He turned up the electronic salsa music and increased the resistance on his bike. His hips were thrusting back and forth as he shouted, “uno, dos, tres!”

Kari and I laughed about it the whole walk home.

This is just one example of the sexual nature of Colombian men—or the sexual undertone that envelops the city of Bogotá, my new home.

At restaurants, couples sit next to each other instead of across—kissing one another’s necks and lips in between bites of food. Young lovers can be found making out on stairwells outside department stores and on street corners. Everyone can dance salsa.

Just three days after landing in my new city I met a Colombian guy named Santiago. A casual meeting in the park turned into a hike to Monserrate, hot coco at a restaurant overlooking Bogotá, then a bottle of wine and tapas at an outdoor café. When he dropped me off at the hotel he asked to kiss me. “I don’t know if it’s your perfume, but I’m intoxicated by you,” he said as his lips touched mine. I almost spit in his mouth.

Santi and I have been out several times since then, and every time he says something that makes me bite the sides of my cheeks to keep from laughing.

“They’re not lines,” he tells me. “I’m just telling you what I’m thinking, and I’m thinking about you.”

I admit, it’s nice to hear. And I suspect in a few months the sight of my spinning instructor gyrating on top of his bike will be commonplace. But until then, I’m going to enjoy the unbridled laughter that Bogotá brings me. And I think I’ll take Santi up on salsa lessons.

A Weekend in Miami

Check out the latest article I wrote for VisitFlorida.com about my weekend in Miami: http://www.visitflorida.com/articles/girlfriend-getaway-miami-and-south-beach-on-a-budget. And stay tuned; more adventures to come in the near future. I'm headed to Washington, D.C. next month to attend a job recruitment fair for international schools. Cross your fingers I get somewhere good. I want to write about eating ceviche in Ecuador or tajine in Morocco. Or even bugs in Africa. My feet are itchy and my belly is hungry.

Getting Fresh

It’s winter. I get it. I should be posting pumpkin soup recipes and ideas for upcoming cookie exchanges. Well, guess what? I’m not. Deal with it.

Lately I’ve had an overwhelming desire to travel. And I’m not talking about a week in the Caribbean or even two weeks in Europe. That’s not gonna cut it. I long for my backpacking days and fantasize about future expeditions: Hiking Machu Picchu, spending a month in an ashram in India, riding a camel through the Sahara. The list goes on.

But nothing is ever like your first time—landing in an unfamiliar city, toting an oversized backpack, ears open to foreign languages, eyes open to foreign sights. The smell from street stalls filling your nose.

This was Bangkok for me in May 2011. Sweat dripping from my every pore, shirt suctioned to my body, horns honking, people running into me from every angle. I loved every minute of it. And that love and excitement continued for the next three months.

That’s why this recipe is so dear to my heart; and probably why I’ve been craving it even during the holiday season.

Vietnamese spring rolls are found, in some variation, all throughout Southeast Asia. Served cold, these handheld wraps are refreshing, fresh and healthy.

Don’t wait for summer. Make them now. Close your eyes and imagine your own backpacking adventure. If you’re anything like me, it’ll satisfy your itchy feet. If only for a night.

Vietnamese Spring Rolls
(Makes 8)

Ingredients:

2 ounces rice vermicelli
8 rice wrappers
24 medium cooked shrimp (peeled and deveined)
3 Tbsp chopped fresh basil
3 Tbsp chopped fresh mint
3 Tbsp chopped fresh cilantro
2 romaine lettuce leaves, chopped
2 Tbsp hoisin sauce
1 Tbsp fish sauce (or soy sauce)
1 Tbsp soy sauce
1/2 lime
2 Tbsp peanut butter
1 Tbsp finely chopped peanuts
1 Tbsp peanut oil

Method:

1. Place shrimp in a bowl and mix with the hoisin sauce and fish sauce (or soy sauce). Bring a medium saucepan of water to a boil and boil rice vermicelli 3-5 minutes, or until al dente and drain. Leave to cool.
2. Put peanut oil into skillet and turn burner on medium high heat. Cook shrimp for about 3-5 minutes until pink. Transfer to plate immediately after so they do not overcook. Let cool.
3. Fill the skillet with warm water. Dip one wrapper into the water for 1-2 seconds to soften. Lay the wrapper flat and place 4 shrimp in a row across the center. Place a handful of vermicelli on top, with a handful of the basil, mint, cilantro and lettuce, leaving about 2 inches on each side. Fold the sides over and tightly roll the wrapper. This will take time to perfect! Be patient ☺
4. In a small bowl, mix the lime juice, peanut butter, soy sauce and peanuts. Play around with the combination until you like the texture and taste. Feel free to try hoisin sauce as well.
5. Serve the spring rolls with the dipping sauce and enjoy!

A Spooky Sleepover

I'd been wanting to visit Cassadaga, a psychic community, since college. I finally did. Here's the story that ran on VisitFlorida.com. Enjoy!

http://www.visitflorida.com/articles/girlfriends-getaway-spiritual-and-spooky-cassadaga-hotel

A New Kind of Adventure

As you can see, I haven't been writing. I could blame it on school, writer's block, a case of carpal tunnel. I could tell you my dog stepped on my keyboard and somehow erased two month's worth of postings. But the truth is, I just haven't felt like it.

I heard from others who've lived abroad that coming home would be tough; and I thought I had mentally prepared myself for it. But I hadn't. I went from living in one of the world's largest, greatest cities, full of exotic foods, language restrictions and daily obstacles to living in New Port Richey. With my parents. Without a car. Or a job.

I've definitely been in a funk--longing for future adventures while missing the past. I thought about going back to Korea, or taking a job in China. But then I realized, I came back for a reason. Five more months until I get my teaching certificate, and then I'm off to another country--full of all new exotic foods, language restrictions and daily obstacles. But until then, I'm going to tackle New Port Richey and make the most of it.

Here's a link to my first article with Florida tourism's initiative, VisitFlorida.com: http://www.visitflorida.com/articles/girlfriend-getaway-reunion-on-rainbow-springs

It's the first of a series of articles on my weekend getaways around Florida. Sure, it's not walking the Great Wall of China or tasting sushi in Japan, but it's still fun. And it's probably making someone on the other side of the world long for the day they can do exactly what I've been taking for granted.