What is it exactly that you do, do?

(Bonus points if you catch the movie reference.)      

A happy face spider at school

I have taught middle school for many years. That I now do this in Cartagena, Colombia, doesn’t change the fact that young adolescents are similar in many ways, including their level of chattiness (coupled with natural Colombian gregariousness). This is comfortably familiar; so much in my life has changed but middle schoolers remain the same, here they just speak in heavily-accented English. 

They are generally adorable, as 6^th graders tend to be.  There are many Isabellas and Nathalias; I have a Maria of the Sea and a Maria of the Sky; multiple Juans, and Jorges, but all my behavior problems are named Felipe. They have had nurses and nannies from birth and are much less independent than American kids of the same age. Patience and Advil are required; even when the kids are quiet the block walls and metal chairs on tile floors echo horrendously. It is unbelievable to me that there haven’t been more complaints in previous years. Several of us have nagged enough about this noise issue that we are supposed to be getting tennis balls from China to put on the bottoms of desks and chairs.  The ship hasn’t come in yet…

My school is Colegio Jorge Washington, COJOWA for short. Yes, acronyms abound here as well.  The school’s mission is lofty: to produce bilingual, ethical leaders, and to reach the highest level of accreditation possible for an American school in South America. Meetings and paperwork are still a big part of my work life. But this is more than made up for by the fact that I have 21 students in each of my core classes (3 science and 1 math) so my workload is considerably less than what I’m used to.  My elective class is Digital Photography, which is a fun break from academics. The campus is located several miles outside the city proper, on a green plain inland from the coast, and is a lovely place maintained by a veritable army of landscapers and cleaning crews.  

Beautiful campus flowers

I ride the teacher bus from my neighborhood to the school. I load the bus at 6:30 to avoid the actual 6:15 stop behind my apartment building; I’d rather spend the time walking to a later stop. Sadly, it is a 40 minute ride from hell. It feels like driving with a 15-year-old learning how to operate stick shift; the gears grind, the brakes slam, and I won’t even mention the traffic (which I’m told is nothing compared to say, Bogota’).

I arrive nauseated to work everyday; thankfully it goes away quickly and I’ve only thrown up twice so far. The city planners are going to build a bypass road so traffic can avoid the bottlenecks that occur in the neighborhood of Crespo, in the form of a tunnel that will go under the sea.  I will be long gone before it becomes part of the bus ride! 

Bocagrande from a high rise in Castillogrande where
I had a meeting recently. Amazing views.

I live on a small peninsula that includes the neighborhoods of Bocagrande, Castillogrande, and El Laquito.  My edificio, Mar Adentro, is in Bocagrande, a touristy area that is a cross between Waikiki and the Las Vegas Strip, with a uniquely Latin American flare. I live across from the ocean side, the breakwaters and lack of complete sidewalks makes for some very loopy walks!

The bay side of Castillogrande, full of very upscale edificios, is only a few blocks away and has a nice path that is usually crowded with walkers, joggers, and the ubiquitous nannies and their charges (many are students at our school) on rollerblades and in strollers. The only time it is not packed is Sunday afternoon, so that is when I go there, trying to walk down different streets each time, reveling in the lack of traffic noise. It’s almost peaceful.

Bay path on a quiet Sunday                             

My favorite banyan tree

Sunglass vendor... I wasn't buying.

The maids often walk the dogs.

My balcony view




I love the sound of the ocean at night, (it’s too noisy during the day to hear it), and sunsets with wine are lovely from one of the other gals’ balconies 
(can’t quite see it from mine). 

There are some great things about the area… stores are close, and I can and do walk everywhere, people are friendly and helpful, especially my building porteros, who speak very slowly for me; it is a very safe city as well. My apartment is comfy and a nice refuge from the crowds. I am struck daily by how different it is to reside in a foreign country, rather than just visit one. Definitely a big change, but I am adjusting and finding my groove.  The pictures (click on one to view in slide show mode) will continue the story of my new life. Until next time, aloha.

        My favorite grocery store, Carulla. I will randomly find 
Safeway brands here, as well as things like Chex Mix.

Just around the corner, the famous Juan Valdez, and his
burro, Conchita. A bit cheaper than Starbux, and very delicious.
Though not open early, coffee here is more of a social drink
than a wake-me-up or pick-me-up.

This is the view out my bedroom window to the main
tourist shopping drag of San Martin. Imagine my surprise
to read the word Ho'okipa (ok, they left off the okina)
on a storefront (right in the picture's center). 
It is a little oasis with cruiser bikes.
I need to stop in and say "hi" preferably on a day when I
wear my flower pin in my hair. 

Too much glass and traffic to buy a bike. But I can
rent a cruiser on a quiet Sunday afternoon.

The beach across the street. The
vendors set up and rent the tents
every day, rain or shine.

The hawkers are constant... food (ceviche, mango),
drink (no open container laws), souvenirs,
and the most persistent, the massage ladies, with their
little buckets of green goo.

The view from my pool deck, it can be blissful
up here, with only pelicans and soaring tropicbirds
for company. And the sound of music from the beach below.

Bay side beach...

Street view from my balcony, at sunset...

...during a rain storm, streets just starting to flood.

My cedula, so I'm legal to work in the country

I nickname these "los ratones
del cielo;" their feathers
blow in whenever I open my
sliding glass door