Colombia 3 (cambambera=spoiled little shit)
Trip Start
Unknown
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Trip End
Ongoing
Barranquilla,
Colombia
Tuesday, September 4, 2007
Anyway, the point is I´m starting to feel a little repentant about my former snarkiness. I´m not saying that that it has disappeared-snarkiness is as much a part of me as my ovaries-but more that I realize that sometimes I should temper my rants with some positive observations. And the past few days have been almost pleasant, if I forget about all the wasted time and the stifling heat.
Walking home the other day, marvelling at the suicidal nature of Colombian drivers (it still boggles me that almost without fail, every Colombian I have met here moves like they've been shot at close range with a full dose of elephant tranquilizer but you put them behind the wheel and they transform into this deranged beast that would put the most irate, psychotic New Yorker to shame), I was suddenly struck by something completely unexpected: the beautiful and enticing fragrance of something tropical and... okay, something tropical. The adjectives will stop there. What made it such a pleasant experience was that for just a quick second, I smelled something other than black diesel exhaust, rotting garbage, and piss. I exalted! I almost expected something weird and romantic to happen and I looked around for some swarthy man but all I saw was a wave of lunatic drivers bearing down on me and an old man trotting along serenely with his donkey (yep, seriously).
But still. It was beauty in the midst of a decidedly unbeautiful city and I was thankful for it. (The trees are in full bloom and they add a gorgeous touch to the cement and smog.)
And for the first time in a while, I was deadly horny last night. I got my game back! Well, that's not true at all... I think I got asked out on a date yesterday (nothing to do with the horniness) and because A) I'm a chicken shit, and B) I'm not really interested in men right now (yes, I am aware that this statement is distinctly at odds with my claims of horniness), I did what I always do here when I don't want to deal with something: I started speaking in English and refused to admit that I spoke more than a word of Spanish. Why I couldn't just say no gracefully is still beyond me but as I suspected, the ploy worked and the guy got frustrated and gave up.
But I do get out, mostly on eating adventures with the women I work with. While there's no sex and most of the time, I eat until I want to vomit, then I eat some more, they are a great group of people (though one of them was somewhat responsible for my earlier church debacle) and we can gripe together about working with an ineffective stress monkey (no names...).
So. The other day, I was walking home, lost in thought-maybe I was calculating the weight of a Colombian hummingbird with a guayaba tied to its leg, it kilograms-when this mime came up from behind me and barked at me! Mimes aren't supposed to make noise, goddamnit! And this fucker scared the shit out of me-a few inches to the left and I might have leaped into the advancing horde of enraged drivers. I made a weird chicken squawking noise back at him-out of pure terror, I assure you-which seemed to surprise him as much as it surprised me. We stared at each other in pure confusion for a few seconds, and then I told him that mimes should be silent, and that was the end of our interaction. It was really strange, though...
On a happier note, I had a small and admittedly one-sided interaction with one of the geckos that hangs out in my house. I know it's probably not a mark of mental stability to converse with small, oddly-colored reptiles but they're so freaking cute that I can't help it. And I think they're supposed to be good luck or some shit like that, and I'm always in need of some luck. (Heh. Wink wink...)
