Cow Country

[Jamie]

On the spur of the moment I decided to take a little vacation out to the countryside. My friend had some relatives we could stay with and the plan was to explore and visit some bird breeders. Knowing how they live in the pueblos I was surprised to learn that the house had running water and that my bedroom would have air-condition. I was also surprised that we could take a direct shuttle. The van service in Colombia is very economical and I have never had a problem or delay using this mode of transportation.

So part of the plan was to leave very early the next morning at 6:0O a.m. so we could make the four hour trip and get some activities in during the day. Well there is something about planning in Colombia that just doesn’t sit well with its siesta continuum. Because as soon as you start formulating a plan something in the Colombian air is taking counter measures. The country is off-limits to planning. The nature of Colombia won’t let your plan happen. So unless you want to piss the Gods off never do what I did and confidently say, “So that’s the plan right?”

So two hours after our scheduled departure time our ride finally arrives. Instead of a van it is a truck. The bed of the truck is full and there is one passenger in the truck so I am thinking, ok there is only room for one more person so we should be out of town soon. We head into the center of the city and pick up a young boy. So now that we are full I am expecting to hit the road. But instead we are making stops unloading what is on the back of the pick-up truck in order to make room for other stops to load on to the pick-up truck. I kept asking the driver, “when are we going to be leaving town” and was given assurance that it would be “soon”. The word soon does not have any meaning in Colombia, soon can actually mean never. So when a Colombian tells you they are going to do something soon they don’t actually have to do it, because soon does not have any time limit. So if you say, “hey you said you were going to do this soon and you never did.” They would look at you as if you were saying, “you said you would never do this and you never did.”

Since we were told on the phone by the shuttle service that we would have air condition I asked, “Why is the air condition not on?” I was told once we leave the city we will put on the air condition. “And when will that be?” “Soon.”

When we were driving on a stretch of road in the city with no traffic lights all the cars were passing us. I am thinking were maxing out at around 25 mph I wonder if the 4 hour trip was based on this speed.

After an hour and a half driving around the city we finally leave with three people in the front, three people in the back and who knows how many in the bed of the truck because I can’t see out the back window.  We start heading east the opposite direction I was originally told. When we cross the Magdalena River we turn on to a dirt road. Now I expected dirt roads a couple hours out, but not immediately outside the city limits.  When I asked, why are we taking this route I was told to avoid the cops. It appears a Beverly Hillbilly’s truck stacking is even illegal in Colombia.

Now that we were outside the city in cow country with no other options but to stick with our ride we were told the air conditioner which was suppose to be turned on once we left the city wasn’t working. Gee, what a surprise and how Colombian. Since we were hot in the city delaying the cooling process until we were really sweaty in smelly seemed so logical. I wonder if Colombians actually believe these lies. It certainly appears that they do. You’ll hear the most absurd things here and people will actually tell you this with a straight face and others around you will nod as if the person is actually saying something that makes sense. If you want to be a comedian you don’t have to write jokes or be creative, simply come to Colombia and write down what you observe and you will have incredible material. Anyway being in vacation mood it wouldn’t be a vacation in Colombia if this wasn’t happening or for that mater a regular day.

So the landscape is pasture, the road is dusty with almost no traffic, the sun is out, 90 plus degrees, high humidity, little breeze just the way I like it. Now the rainy season had just begun. After the first rain it is amazing how quick everything turns green. The place transforms in a few days. The skinny cows are final getting some green grass. While there is fencing along the road for almost the whole trip we often had to slow down for cows on the road. It appears that no one told the cows that they belong on the other side of the fence.

After a few hours we stopped because the driver wanted a beer. Ok no problem, get your beer and let’s go. But he didn’t want to drink and drive. I am always amazed when someone in Colombia actually follows a law it’s like, so strange. So after about 30 minutes of drinking a lady passenger who had been waiting in the truck comes out and complains about the wait. She says, this is a public service (it’s not) and you should not be drinking. He doesn’t even look up.

When we got back in the truck, having not lost that inner child in me I kept asking, how much longer after every bend of the road? Being recognized as a child I was told thirty times, “We’re almost there.” In Colombia don’t expect precise answers.

When we dropped off the first passenger I’m thinking, we have arrived! But I don’t understand why is the driver taking another beer break. It turns out we had another 30 minutes to go and of course there is no hurry in getting us to where we want to go. Anyway it’s a good thing I’m entertained by swatting flies and watching chickens pecking the ground.  I then see a saddled horse parked outside the tavern. My friend asks if it is ok to be photographed on the horse and I said sure it’s not my horse. The horse owner sees our interest in his horse and tells my friend, you can get on and even wear my hat. As soon as my friend gets on the the hat’s-a-flying. I’m thinking, why would a horse in this hot weather go galloping down the road. What a crazy horse. It’s got to be about a hundred. I wonder if horses can get heat stroke… oh, and I was also thinking I hope my friend doesn’t get hurt.

Back on the truck my friend tells me, to be nice to everyone we meet.  It’s like one restriction after another restriction.

“And whatever food they give you eat it.”

“Listen I am not going to eat any food.”

“When we arrive they are going to offer us food.”

“We are not going to eat any food that is not in our plans. We’re lucky if we have 2 hours of daylight left. We are going to go out riding. As soon as we arrive were going out right?”

“Ok.”

When we arrive the lady of the house offers me some chicken soup. I look at my friend who doesn’t say a thing. Ok it figures I have to do all the dirty work, “No thank you.”

“Would you like rabbit?”

Let me think, do I want to eat a rodent, “No thank you.” ten minutes and many, no thank yous later a bowl of soap is in front of me.

So the man of the house is loaning me his motorcycle. Colombia, like the U.S has it share of ridiculous laws and then some. You are required to wear a helmet plus a vest with an identification number on it. You are also restricted from using certain streets and driving on certain days and having certain passengers. It’s just a big mess of laws. I won’t take the time to tell you the idiotic reasons for these laws, but like any “fix” a politician comes up with, it doesn’t work.  However, the good thing about driving in the countryside is they rarely enforce any laws so no helmet for me.

I look over the motorcycle, check the gear pattern. Notice the horn is not working, there is no rubber on the foot pegs, one turn signal is hanging, the tires are worn and there’s no license plate. I ask the guy is this going to be a problem not having a license plate, and he tells me, not if the cops don’t need money. Ok, cool then were all set to go.

 I ask him how much gas do I have and he says about half a tank. So off we go. Due to the fact that my brain is 30 minutes slower than everyone else what should have been the first thing I looked at was the last. As we leave town I finally take a look at the gas gauge and of course it’s on empty. Now if you have ever been to Colombia you will notice that 90% of the taxis have their gas gauge on empty. I don’t mean almost to the red line signifying empty. I mean below the red line where that little meter stick is flat on its back empty. Since its Colombia, I figured it’s broken like everything else, but now I realize these drivers have figured out how far their gas fumes can take them. While we think in miles or kilometer when it comes to estimating how much further we can go they think in meters. So when you get into one of these taxis and tell the driver you want to go to the mall. The driver immediately calculates your 94 kilos, the destination 1,055 meters, five street lights, and three minutes and 45 seconds of stop time which will allow him to coast the last 30 meters into the drive-entrance of the mall. So don’t panic when you see the gas gauge on empty they got it all figured out.

We only get a little riding in. since it turned dark, but enough for me to have good expectations for the next few days.

Back at the house were sitting in the backyard patio. Before long there are about 15-20 kids and teenagers around me. Don’t mater where I went kids would circle me. I tried kicking them away, but they wouldn’t leave. They said I was the first gringo to ever visit their town. So that means no gringo has ever got lost and ended up in this town, because I can’t see any other reason why a gringo would be here, but instead I told them, I can’t believe that.  So back at the patio they wanted me to talk to them in English. I tell them I have nothing to say, instead why don’t you ask me some questions and I will answer in Spanish and English. So the first question is would I sing to them, “No, next question.” Jamie, please sing for them, “No.” They want to hear someone sing to them in English, “No.” Why won’t you sing? So much for an easy start. Do you like Michael Jackson? “No.” Do you like Bon Jovi?” “No.” “What type of music to you like?” Do you like Vallenato? No. (This answer brings a silent gasp to the crowd. Vallenato would be something like county folk music the accordion is the primary instrument. It does not sound anything like American country music, but the origin is from the Colombian countryside. It’s awful and simplistic, but well liked at least in the northeast of Colombia.)  From an adult, is it true you can only have three children in the U.S.? “No.” “Do you like Colombia?”, “Next question.” When are you coming back? “I don’t know.” (I got asked this question a lot. About 5 minutes after meeting someone they would ask, “So when are you coming back?”). “Do you think the girls in town are pretty?” “Umm… I didn’t notice.”

 I would be surprised if any of these town girls reach 18 without being pregnant or married.  I met one spirited lady who was married at 13 and had 15 children. She was about 87 years old and I thought her face looked very good for her age. My friend comments about how well she looks and then cups the underneath of her bosom and moves it up and down and tells her, however these guys aren’t looking too good.  I move back a step just in case the old lady wants to grab my balls and say the same thing to me. It’s all part of the black comedy world I live in.

Whenever I was alone with the man of the house he would ask me how many girlfriends I had. I told him I could only afford one. He said, two is much better it’s like having “suero” (dairy sauce) with your yucca. You should have two girl friends. Better yet, you should have three girlfriends that’s like having aqua de panela (concentrated syrup from sugar cane) with your suero and yucca. When you return I am going to have a woman for you. I nodded my head and made a mental not to be alone with this guy again.

At night sure enough I had air-condition in my room, but my bed was smaller than anything I’ve ever slept in since I was three. To me the bed is the most important furniture in the house. It’s got to be big, comfortable, attractive and inviting. Most Colombians sleep in tiny beds, with thin mattresses and hard sheets. So as I laid my head on to the mattress, because I didn’t have a pillow I noticed a lot of mosquitoes in the room. Now in the tropics there is good chance you are going to be bitten at night by mosquitoes when you don’t see any. When you see them that means you are going to wake up in the morning with your leg bitten off.  However, I was prepared and wore mosquito repellent at all times which meant I only got bitten by non-mosquito insects. A lot of the town’s folk sleep in hammocks so being a meal is an every night occurrence for them.

I’m given a toothbrush and shown the bathroom, but I didn’t know what I’m suppose to do there was no sink in the bathroom. I don’t see a shower either, but a barrel of water with a bucket in it. “Hey, you told me they had running water.” “They do, but it’s shut off at 5 p.m. everyone knows that.”

In the morning we ate eggs (there was over 200 eggs on the kitchen counter), with passion juice, bread and some natural cheese that I was told was like cream cheese, but tasted nothing like cream cheese. I was asked how I liked the cheese. I prefer not to be phony polite. “Well it’s very strong.”
“Yes, that’s because it is natural, how do you like it?”
“Well it’s very different and strong.”
“Do you like it?”
“I never tasted anything like this before.”
“Yes, because it is natural.”
“Do you want some more?”
“No, I think I’m full.”

Now my stomach has been Colombianized so I don’t get sick. But if you are ever in a small town I would recommend you eat and drink as little as you can get away with.  When I asked my friend why is there so much food on the counter, yet the refrigerator is almost empty I was told the refrigerator does not work.  “Umm, so how old was that cheese I ate?”

They had a mamoncillo tree which they call mamón. The fruit is green and about the size of the circle you can form with 2 fingers.  They usually don’t sell this fruit in the supermarket you buy it from fruit vendors. When I first tasted the fruit year ago I found the texture in my mouth to be gross, but the taste was good. After awhile the texture did not bother me and I would more frequently eat the fruit. The fruit is mostly seed. You would crack the skin with your teeth and then put the seed in your mouth and suck the juice and the little pulp and then if you like you can beam someone with the seed.

It rained during the night so the roads were perfect there would be little dust for at least a few hours. We headed west in to the hills and being a nature lover I had more than enough sights to keep me interested. We would stop often depending on what plants or animals caught my attention. There were many colorful birds. Every time I take a trip outside the city I see beautiful flowering plants I have never seen before, and I am fairly knowledgeable in this area. The dirt roads overall were in good condition. We did run into one truck that was stuck in the mud and once the rainy season intensifies I can see how some parts of the road would become impassable. While overall the countryside is attractive, Colombians do not take care of their natural resources. In many places there was litter because the norm is to throw your trash to the ground. Where there are people it’s hard to find a vista where you don’t see smoke from fire used for clearing the land or burning of trash. We would ride about an hour or two before hitting a small pueblo. We didn’t bring any liquids so when we hit a town we would get a cold soda. About 5 minutes later you would feel thirsty again. This was the tropics at maximum heat, sun and humidly.

We ended up at a river that actually looked clean, but of course I knew it wasn’t. As we drove along the river we would see people bathing. We parked under the closes shade tree. When I got off the motorcycle and said hi to a group taking the shade of the tree I was asked if I was going to take a bath.  So I decided to get back on the motorcycle and drove through a very small pueblo. The pueblo I was staying at later said this was a very poor pueblo and I thought their pueblo was poor. Oh well nice to know what the pecking order is. When we stopped at a tiny store I was surprised that they did not have any fruit. I didn’t see any fruit trees either. I bought a large bottle of grape soda for 40 cents and gave part of it to a young kid who walked away with it without saying thank you. These pueblos would be a dismal place to live. I rarely saw anyone working and when I asked why doesn’t anyone work I was told because they work during the dark morning hours. Of course everyone around me nodded their head as if that was going to convince me that anyone lifted a finger around here. Normally in the city people sit on their front porch at night or during the weekend, but in the pueblos all day and night they would be sitting on the front porch.

When we finished riding by the river and returned back to the edge of town I got a flat. In these small pueblos the primary transportation is motorcycles followed by horse. I never saw a taxi; however they do have motorcycles pulling small carriages as taxis. So even in this tiny town, which was nothing more than a collection of houses, I suspected someone could fix my bike. So we are pointed to a direction again and again and that direction ended being the opposite side of town. I see two young boys working on 2 motorcycles. They said they could fix my flat and to take a seat. I sit down trying not to disturb the muddy pig sleeping under my chair. I watched the barefooted kids playing and notice one boy with very blond hair, so I must not have been the first gringo to this town. In about 15 minutes my flat is fixed and I am charged about six dollars. If that flat happened outside of town I would have lost the day.

The next day we headed another direction and as it got towards sundown my friend is getting scared and wants to return. So I kick start the bike and feel no resistance in the kicker petal, being hours from nowhere that wasn’t a good feeling. I’m working the kicker petal not really expecting it to work when it suddenly catches and starts. It’s dark when we get back and we stop at a chicken restaurant that I saw advertised on both sides of a street billboard outside of town. I was pretty much filthy from driving all day and when I went to use the bathroom to clean up I was surprised to see a sink and a shower. So I turned the water on and hear and then see the water draining in to a bucket below the sink. Well at least it’s halfway functional. I was told I could take a shower. I thought that was a strange offer, was it because I looked bad or smelled bad or both. Anyway a shower is not going to change that.  With only one dinner napkin to dry off with I decided I would stick with the bucket shower at home. The restaurant had air-condition, but there were still too many flies and mosquitoes. Like a fool I did not specify to the waiter don’t give me a chicken that’s been roasting over the grill all day, so that’s the chicken I got. Colombians like their meat as dry and dead has you can get it.

That night more talk and I mentioned I saw some monkeys and I was surprised there were monkeys in this area since there was only small patches of forest the rest being pastures. The men in the group became very interested.

“Monkeys, what type of monkeys were they?”

I did by best to describe howler monkeys.

The men looked at each other.

“How many were there?”

“How big were they?”

“Where did you see these monkeys?”

“Was there a stream nearby?”

So now that they knew exactly where those monkeys were I’m guessing that will be the end of them.

You will never hear in Colombia , “Don't air your dirty laundry in public.” Because that’s exactly what everyone does. I must have been invited to about 20 homes and was constantly ducking and dodging hanging clothes. I would go under one line of clothing only to straighten up underneath another line of clothing wearing grandma’s underpants on my head.  I couldn’t understand why I had to visit and be introduced to so many people I didn’t know by people who I didn’t know. I think they just wanted to poke me with a stick being the first gringo to every show up in their town.

My American garage never looked as bad as these houses. Every backyard was like a mini-farm. They all had farm animals in confined areas. Neighbor’s cats and dogs would be walking through the house. I saw a chicken with almost no feathers and I asked, “Why does that chicken not have any feathers?” I was told that’s how the owner keeps track of his chickens intermixed with your chickens walking through your house.  Most had caged birds some in the house staining the floors all of which were cement. Walls would be dirty sometimes with children’s writings. Dusting didn’t seem to be a cleaning activity because there was dust everywhere. Trash would be around the houses, ugly doesn’t seem to bother Colombians. 

I understand being poor but I can’t understand being poor and living in dirty surrounding. I can’t understand being poor and being lazy. How can people not take pride in their house, neighborhood and surroundings? The people in these towns have time to sit around all day on their front porch, but what no time to pick up the trash lying in front of you? No time to plant fruit seeds are trees. No time to utilize your labor and effort to develop the resources around town. No time to develop a community self-sustaining market? 

I asked is there a place to swim and was told yes there is a lake. I clarified, “Is this place that you can swim shared by cows?” “No.” So when I took a look at the swimming hole it was nothing more than a pond with algae that nobody was swimming in with hoof prints around the banks. The community leader can’t develop a swimming hole.

When we decided to head back we made sure we got a van with air-condition. We traveled back on a different route and when we were about to cross a small bridge I see a sign on the side of road that says, “DANGER DO NOT PASS.” Once we crossed the bridge I turned around to see another sign facing the bride, “DANGER DO NOT PASS”. Oh well.

When we finally hit paved road the ride didn’t feel any better than being on the dirt road. Fixing potholes is not on Colombia’s to do list. One of the passengers had us stop for food and he shared some hard coconut cookies that were tasty. After him and his family finished lunch they took care of their trash Colombian style, by throwing it out the window. My friend looks at me at smiles. We stopped often to buy fruit from the market stands along the road. The price difference between buying fruit and vegetables in the market versus what you pay in a city supermarket is significant.  For example, I bought 12 sweet mangos for $5.500 pesos about two and half dollars at a supermarket and for the same sweet mangos the price was 20 for $1000 pesos. So were talking 5, 6, or 7 times cheaper for market bought fruits.

Every time we crossed a river I’d ask. The driver, “What’s the name of that river?”
“The Magdalena.”
“But the river before that was the Magdalena.”
“Yes, I know.”
Latter
“What’s the name of this river?”
“The Magdalena.”
“But you said the river behind us was the Magdalena?”
The driver then asks a passenger, what’s the name of this river?
“The Magdalena.”

Normally when you ask the same question in Colombia, with only one right answer, you will get many different answers.  If it’s not something you need to know it actually fun hearing all the different answers. Google Earth had the town where we were in at 20,000 people. I meant to ask the different towns people to see what numbers I would hear, but only remembered to ask once and was told 10,000. But, hey if you ever enter a pueblo where you are told you are only the second gringo to ever visit then you can ask that question for me.

[dennislevy]

Jamie

God, this wes funnY!!!!

It brought back memproes of a trup from Igague e to God knows here to visot a past novia s country relatives.

My other favorte comparable to soon....is 5 minutes, as in they will behere in 5 minutes. Now, I ask in Spanish is that 5 minutes by the watch or the Colombian 6 minutes? When I get that smile we know so well, I just find aplace to rest, because In not going anyhqere very fast..

I learned that whenever you go to someone s house, whatever mught be set on the tabLE  may be absolutely iedible, so it pays to bring survival rations, for me bakery tolls, bottled water, Coca Cola and Jet chocolate in a backpack.

And when you take a trip to parts unknown in Colomba, bring at least one roll of toilet paper with you.

Thanks, Jamie you had me laughing!!!   

Denniis
Bogota

[soltero]

I agree! This was an excellent read. I actually put off eating dinner (that I have to go and get) until I finished as it just kept getting better and better! Now, time to eat! Jamie, you have true talent...

[Shadow_mas]

If the people where you were guest would read it they would shake their head at how spolied the gringo's are.