BASICS
its a card game.
a 2 person game.
it uses 2 decks.
shuffle them separately. shuffle one deck with jokers.
from one deck, deal out 5 cards to each player. place the remainder of the pile to the side to be drawn from on each turn.
from the other deck, deal out 26 cards to each player. flip the top card over to reveal it.
the person who wins the game is the one who played all 26 cards from their other deck.
ROWS
each player has 4 possible rows on his/her side of the table. the cards placed there cannot be touched by the other player.
cards must be arranged in descending order of value (ace is low, king is high).
you can start a row with whichever card you wish.
suits do not matter.
you can stack cards of equal value in these rows.
therefore, rows can look like this: k, q, j, 10, 9... or like this: 9, 9, 9, 9... or like this: 7, 6, 5, 5, 5, 4, 3
you may not put aces or twos in these rows.
STACKS
the center of the table is the playing ground.
here, cards must be stacked from ace to king.
if a player has an ace, he/she MUST play it.
if a player has a 2, and the ace is down, he/she MUST play it.
cards are stacked in numerical order from the cards you hold in your hand
or
from the cards you have in your personal rows
or
from your other deck that has the one card flipped over and revealed (if you play that card, flip the following card over and build to play that next).
when a stack reaches king, put it off to the side.
MORE BASICS
after your play, if youve played from your hand (either to place cards in your personal row or in the playing field stacks), draw as many cards as you have played from the pile of the one deck.
when the one deck is finished, reshuffle all of the cards that have been put to the side because their stack had reached king (this should include cards from both decks, thus increasing the amount of cards in one deck throughout the game).
jokers can be used as any card except ace, 2, 7, or king.
players MUST do something on their turn. no bluffing or passing.
if neither player can play, both players fold their hands, place the cards in the pile of used (soon to be reshuffled) cards, and draw 5 new ones.
this is a game that was taught to me by alex some years back and then one of my collegues, jenny, reminded me of it right before anna and i came to colombia. it has provided endless hours of entertainment.
Saturday, December 30, 2006
Friday, December 29, 2006
ode to sylvester (no rocky 6)
after being in santa marta for a couple of days and in tyrona national park, anna and i took refuge in the coastal mountains of colombia. the mountains go up pretty high - i think they are the highest coastal mountins in the world, but, we only went up 600 meters or so to a house called 'cape diem'. it is basically a familys house and they have rooms for people to stay in. the whole area is made up of farms and communes who grow things and subsist that way.
their property has a number of farms and closer to the house, a grouping of hammocks with a fireplace in the middle. anna and i spent the two plus days we were there sitting in those hammocks, sitting by the nearby river soaking our feet, or sipping on coffee that was brought to us with astonishing frequency by the house mother. there were coffee plants on the property and so we can relly say that we were drinking fresh colombian coffee.
they had two animals. one was a neighbors dog that came around a lot. nobody seemed to like him, as they always were shooing him away. he was rail thin with the ears of a donkey. a bazaar looking creature. the other was a cat named sylvester- a fat orange cat who seems to look to garfield for spiritual guidance. my first encounter with sylvester was as i was lying in the hammock, seeing him trot by with no particular speed as the familys boy ran after him with a bucket of water. later, sylvester came back to introduce himself to me and anna. he walked by and i grabbed him. i have a whole new view on cats now that i kind of own some back in cuenca. not only are cats for throwing, ive learned, but they can be played with as well. who knew? anyway sylvester lay down and turned over to let me rub his belly and while my hand was there, he very deliberately grabbed onto it with his paws lowered his head and chomped my hand. he didnt break the skin, but i was sure that it was his intention to do so. the house mother was around, so i didnt throw him. but, i knew then that there would be war.
the next time i saw him was at dinner. sylvester liked to lay around for hours on end, but when it came time to eat, he was always there, walking through you legs as you sat, rubbing against them to let you know that he was there and that if you wanted to give him food, he would be there. the house mother treated him like a child and gave him food at every turn, so to her he meowed and follwed. but he also spent some time quietly under the table. while he was there, near my feet, i decided that i would get back at him by kicking him (gently). i kicked, but he didnt move. all he did was close his eyes, as though to wish me away. so i stopped and thought of another plan of attack. later, when he was close enough to my hand, i began poking him on his head and plucking him in his ribs. i didnt want to hurt him, only to bother him a lot. still, his head would bob as it was poked, but come right back to position each time. the plucks did not bother him through his great belly. i was willing to let it rest that evening until i saw him eating some leftover chicken the house mother gave to him. so, i went to him and began tugging on his whiskers. he just kept on eating. i shook him in his stomach region hoping that it would agitate him enough that me may throw up. no such luck. then, anna and i began playing cards.
outside our room, next to the card table, there is a comfortable chair. sylvester sleeps in this chair. he sleeps all curled up with his paws covering his face and his face in his stomach. however, when i came around after playing cards, i lifted him and placed him on the table. while he was in the air, he either growled or purred a bit, but i think he was just surpirsed. when i let him go on the table, hs shook himself from head to toe and began licking his stomach furiously. i moved the chairs from around the table and sylvester didnt seem apt to jump down from such a height so he just stood on the table. and looked around. unsatisfied with his level of being bothered, i then draped one of my shirts over him and without being able to see, he tried to walk out from under the shirt but the shirt moved with him. as i saw him about to back off of the table, i lifted the shirt and pushed him back onto the table and it occured to me that i really didnt want to see him hurt. only bothered. then it occured to me that he really wasnt reacting to my provocations. i was expecting a hiss or a running away or something. but instead he proved himself to be the ghandi or dr king of cats (except that he did bite me). he just stood there and took my provocations without fighting back until i got tired of it and put him back in his chair.
the next morning i woke up to find sylvester sleeping in that same chair and i put a leaf in his ear to tickle him awake and all he did was twitch his ear. so instead, i decided to rub his neck and pet his head. finally he let me rub his belly without him biting me. im not sure if this means that we made up or not.
their property has a number of farms and closer to the house, a grouping of hammocks with a fireplace in the middle. anna and i spent the two plus days we were there sitting in those hammocks, sitting by the nearby river soaking our feet, or sipping on coffee that was brought to us with astonishing frequency by the house mother. there were coffee plants on the property and so we can relly say that we were drinking fresh colombian coffee.
they had two animals. one was a neighbors dog that came around a lot. nobody seemed to like him, as they always were shooing him away. he was rail thin with the ears of a donkey. a bazaar looking creature. the other was a cat named sylvester- a fat orange cat who seems to look to garfield for spiritual guidance. my first encounter with sylvester was as i was lying in the hammock, seeing him trot by with no particular speed as the familys boy ran after him with a bucket of water. later, sylvester came back to introduce himself to me and anna. he walked by and i grabbed him. i have a whole new view on cats now that i kind of own some back in cuenca. not only are cats for throwing, ive learned, but they can be played with as well. who knew? anyway sylvester lay down and turned over to let me rub his belly and while my hand was there, he very deliberately grabbed onto it with his paws lowered his head and chomped my hand. he didnt break the skin, but i was sure that it was his intention to do so. the house mother was around, so i didnt throw him. but, i knew then that there would be war.
the next time i saw him was at dinner. sylvester liked to lay around for hours on end, but when it came time to eat, he was always there, walking through you legs as you sat, rubbing against them to let you know that he was there and that if you wanted to give him food, he would be there. the house mother treated him like a child and gave him food at every turn, so to her he meowed and follwed. but he also spent some time quietly under the table. while he was there, near my feet, i decided that i would get back at him by kicking him (gently). i kicked, but he didnt move. all he did was close his eyes, as though to wish me away. so i stopped and thought of another plan of attack. later, when he was close enough to my hand, i began poking him on his head and plucking him in his ribs. i didnt want to hurt him, only to bother him a lot. still, his head would bob as it was poked, but come right back to position each time. the plucks did not bother him through his great belly. i was willing to let it rest that evening until i saw him eating some leftover chicken the house mother gave to him. so, i went to him and began tugging on his whiskers. he just kept on eating. i shook him in his stomach region hoping that it would agitate him enough that me may throw up. no such luck. then, anna and i began playing cards.
outside our room, next to the card table, there is a comfortable chair. sylvester sleeps in this chair. he sleeps all curled up with his paws covering his face and his face in his stomach. however, when i came around after playing cards, i lifted him and placed him on the table. while he was in the air, he either growled or purred a bit, but i think he was just surpirsed. when i let him go on the table, hs shook himself from head to toe and began licking his stomach furiously. i moved the chairs from around the table and sylvester didnt seem apt to jump down from such a height so he just stood on the table. and looked around. unsatisfied with his level of being bothered, i then draped one of my shirts over him and without being able to see, he tried to walk out from under the shirt but the shirt moved with him. as i saw him about to back off of the table, i lifted the shirt and pushed him back onto the table and it occured to me that i really didnt want to see him hurt. only bothered. then it occured to me that he really wasnt reacting to my provocations. i was expecting a hiss or a running away or something. but instead he proved himself to be the ghandi or dr king of cats (except that he did bite me). he just stood there and took my provocations without fighting back until i got tired of it and put him back in his chair.
the next morning i woke up to find sylvester sleeping in that same chair and i put a leaf in his ear to tickle him awake and all he did was twitch his ear. so instead, i decided to rub his neck and pet his head. finally he let me rub his belly without him biting me. im not sure if this means that we made up or not.
ode to the canadian
somehow we met these people the other day - our last in cartegena until we get back. we went to a volcano with them. one that spews mud instead of lava. well, spews is not really an accurate term since the mud is somewhat just stagnantly sitting in the crater. in any event you jump into the crater of the volcano, which is by all accounts counterintuitive, and bathe yourself in the mud. the mud is said to have theraputic value, but really it is just cool. you float in the mud, so you can be standing upright with only the bottom of the crater below you, yet completely englufed in mud (up to your neck - weirdly, you never sank so that the mud came up above your neck, no matter however tall or short you were). it was a surreal experience.
one of the guys we went with was a canadian guy who was older than us. i wasnt sure if he looked old or young for his age but he had tufts of gray hair, but a laid back and young look on his face. it turns out that he must have been about 45. apparantly he has traveled throughout the entire world during his lie and chooses always to cross borders in absurd ways. for example, he came from peru to ecuador via boat. the only way to do that is via 2 week jungle canoe trip. this he did and in the process apparantly almost died. he came out of the trip with a deadly cough and a huge abscess on his leg that had to be immidiately lanced once he was within range of a doctor. his cough still flares up every now and again and he needs to take antibiotics every few hours.
still, his next plan is to get from colombia to panama. since it is pretty dangerous to get there overland (dangerous like paramilitary drug wars going on, not like pirhanas) he is choosing to take a number of connecting sailboats. there is a boat that goes from cartegena and sails to panama over a four day period, but this boat seems to provide too much of an air of party and fun and 'thats not what (hes) in this for'. plus, he is no stranger to sailing. his last trip took him from central america to micronesia by boat. he met two guys who happened to be the danish sailing champions and happened to be sailing via the galapagos and easter island further west our to south east asia. his last stop was micronesia. he had stories of triangulation of star paths for navigating, being without sight of land for "only" 24 days. during these days he was able to keep sane by sticking to routine. waking up and excercizing. playing travia games with hsi mates, etc. and his description of his time at deep sea was one of consistant vomiting. the boat would regularly drop dozens of feet over a wave and vomiting ensued, but he didnt let that stop him. his positive spin on the whole thing was that he developed a great 6-pack by trying not to vomit (eh).
he has taken up photojournalism and before anything purchased the most up-to-date possible camera. during his few weeks in peru he managed to take over 9000 pictures only to have his camera (with the pictures on it) stolen and all his pictures lost. this was a setback but everything was fine because the bus driver bought him a pineapple.
one of the guys we went with was a canadian guy who was older than us. i wasnt sure if he looked old or young for his age but he had tufts of gray hair, but a laid back and young look on his face. it turns out that he must have been about 45. apparantly he has traveled throughout the entire world during his lie and chooses always to cross borders in absurd ways. for example, he came from peru to ecuador via boat. the only way to do that is via 2 week jungle canoe trip. this he did and in the process apparantly almost died. he came out of the trip with a deadly cough and a huge abscess on his leg that had to be immidiately lanced once he was within range of a doctor. his cough still flares up every now and again and he needs to take antibiotics every few hours.
still, his next plan is to get from colombia to panama. since it is pretty dangerous to get there overland (dangerous like paramilitary drug wars going on, not like pirhanas) he is choosing to take a number of connecting sailboats. there is a boat that goes from cartegena and sails to panama over a four day period, but this boat seems to provide too much of an air of party and fun and 'thats not what (hes) in this for'. plus, he is no stranger to sailing. his last trip took him from central america to micronesia by boat. he met two guys who happened to be the danish sailing champions and happened to be sailing via the galapagos and easter island further west our to south east asia. his last stop was micronesia. he had stories of triangulation of star paths for navigating, being without sight of land for "only" 24 days. during these days he was able to keep sane by sticking to routine. waking up and excercizing. playing travia games with hsi mates, etc. and his description of his time at deep sea was one of consistant vomiting. the boat would regularly drop dozens of feet over a wave and vomiting ensued, but he didnt let that stop him. his positive spin on the whole thing was that he developed a great 6-pack by trying not to vomit (eh).
he has taken up photojournalism and before anything purchased the most up-to-date possible camera. during his few weeks in peru he managed to take over 9000 pictures only to have his camera (with the pictures on it) stolen and all his pictures lost. this was a setback but everything was fine because the bus driver bought him a pineapple.
Thursday, December 21, 2006
the next beach
we arrived in playa blanca via motorboat shared by 20 people on monday morning. we had to take a cab to the grimiest market ever (not one vegetable, mud, dead dog) and there we caught the motorboat. on it were a bunch of locals on their way to and fro, doing their daily things, 3 swiss and a swedish guy who despite its being 9am was throwing back beer after beer. his reasoning being that he hadnt yet been to sleep. the swiss laughed at him behind his back each time he went for another.
after a 45 minute ride during which the water turned from aqua to a deeper, crystallized turquoise, the boat pulled up to a place near where that water touched fine, white sand. at this time of day, the beach was deserted except for a few locals who were able to point the way to the hotel. at the hotel, we learned that it costed only $2 to sling ones own hammock. good deal. we did that, though the hammock space was directly in the kitchen. no problem though, we changed a ran out to the beach. we found a secluded little restaurant on the side of the beach where the sand was rougher and more yellow, but the water was equally turquoise. the people there allowed us to use their sun-cover as long as we bought things. we stayed there until 4pm or so, had some beers, and lunched ona whole, fireed fish.
after resting up a bit, we watched the sun set and went to another place to eat our fried fish dinner. by the time we were done with that, it was fully dark and we sat out and looked at stars for a bit. by 830, the beach was totally dark and we felt satisfied with our day on our secluded-enough beach. sure, some people came around trying to sell us things, but it was expected and therefore not as overbearing as it could have been. the day was a success and we went to sleep. the breeze was nice, out in the hammocks, but since we were sleeping in teh kitchen where the 4 dogs and 3 cats were, we were subjected to some rude awakenings: dogs barking at everything that moved, except, weirdly, the cats, who were having sex.
we woke up and had a coffee at the hotel. well, we woke up at 6am when the guy came to clean things up aorund the kitchen with a rake. then we had coffee and milled around. soon, we went back to our secluded spot. we had our breakfast there of arrepa stuffed with a fried egg and then swam a bit.
lonely planet says that playa blanca is pretty deserted except in the early afternoon when tour boats arrive. the previous day, from our secluded post, we noticed some boats docking on the side of the beach with palm trees. not a disturbing amount, but enough that we were happy to remain where we were. they didnt coe to our side of the beach and we didnt go to theirs. then, we crossed theat line. our bright idea that morning was to leave our secluded haven to go sit closer to where the palm trees were.
indeed, the sand on this side of the beach was finer, but even when we got there, a tourist boat was docked and day-beachers were circulating about. we assumed that the tour boats were just early that day. but then, another tour boat came - this time it was a miniature sized cruise ship called, 'alcatraz' that had an appendage boat packed with maybe 100 tourists - the atrocity. the appendage boat came directly to the port of the beach we were sitting at and everyone got out and sat next to us. we couldnt easily move, as we had already paid for our specific, immovable sun-cover.
aside from the shreiking children this brought, naturally, who peed in the water turning yellow that which was once blue, other tour boats who arrived in rapid succession - the horror - the blaring music of these tour boats, next came the immense density of sellers: bracelets, not what we wanted. coconut juice, thanks, but we dont need 58,000. shrimps, again, thanks, but stop asking us. ask the tourists. we are here for seclusion.
we waited it out, but by the time they all left, sunset was coming. we went back to our hotel and talked with gilbert, the french owner who seemed friendly enough. he had been living on playa blanca for 10 years and his hotel is called wittenberg. his is the only place that lonely planet mentions in its book, but it is certainly not the only place to stay on the island. i am convinced that lonely planet chooses only to highlight european or american owned businesses - good or not - and wants to foster a network of enbubbled european and american trevelers who meet only each other and dont support local businesses. im sure the wittenbergs of the world give a percentage of their inflated earnings to lonely planet.
wittenberg is not a good hotel and gilbert is an anti-evolutionist. he owns about hald of playa blanca, but the hotel grounds are made of scruffy grass and unfinshed paved areas. you can sling a hammock, but only in the kitchen out bacck by a boggy marsh where the animals sleep (there was a runaway cow incident during our second night). the whole grounds are set so far back from the beach that you cant even hear the waves. and when he gives you his business card when you leave, it is really just one of those 'why you will go to hell' comics that people try to hand out on the subways in new york. its as though he bought the land, got his name in lonely planet, then stopped improving his business.
meanwhile, anna and i returned to our secluded spot wihtt eh nice owners who when we let told us that next time we came, we should stay with them. and in fact, all of the restaurants offer space to sling yuo own hammock, or offer tents to rent so that you can sleep actually on the beach. preferable.
the last day was spent again as though playa blanca was a secluded beach. we swam, played with seaweed, ate well and enjoyed what has been by far the nicest beach ive ever stayed at. the most beeautiful. in the end, not the most deserted, but very beautiful. the people all in all are nice. many of them exist by selling things to tourists, but the majority of people respect if you dont want something and dont hound you to death and many will even stp for non-sale-related-conversation just for the sake of being nice. of course if you want to leave playa blanca, dont rely on the word of the motorboat drivers as far as departure times are concerned. there is a definite lack of respect for schedules on play blanca, which i guess is one of those things im supposed to see as being a cultural difference, though im sure that if my cultural difference was to pay less for services not rendered on time, peopel wouldnt respect my culture.
anyway, playa blanca was an excellent introduction to the paradise we were and are seeking. next up is taganga, a beach near the town of santa marta. it is meant to be touristy, but even bluer water and even taller palm trees and whiter sand. further along is a national park with a beach whose shape is a perfect U, and then another further along, but you have to hike through the national park to get to it, the whitest white sand, the deepest blue water, the least amount of people and the coconutest yielding palm trees youve ever seen. we will get there eventually...
after a 45 minute ride during which the water turned from aqua to a deeper, crystallized turquoise, the boat pulled up to a place near where that water touched fine, white sand. at this time of day, the beach was deserted except for a few locals who were able to point the way to the hotel. at the hotel, we learned that it costed only $2 to sling ones own hammock. good deal. we did that, though the hammock space was directly in the kitchen. no problem though, we changed a ran out to the beach. we found a secluded little restaurant on the side of the beach where the sand was rougher and more yellow, but the water was equally turquoise. the people there allowed us to use their sun-cover as long as we bought things. we stayed there until 4pm or so, had some beers, and lunched ona whole, fireed fish.
after resting up a bit, we watched the sun set and went to another place to eat our fried fish dinner. by the time we were done with that, it was fully dark and we sat out and looked at stars for a bit. by 830, the beach was totally dark and we felt satisfied with our day on our secluded-enough beach. sure, some people came around trying to sell us things, but it was expected and therefore not as overbearing as it could have been. the day was a success and we went to sleep. the breeze was nice, out in the hammocks, but since we were sleeping in teh kitchen where the 4 dogs and 3 cats were, we were subjected to some rude awakenings: dogs barking at everything that moved, except, weirdly, the cats, who were having sex.
we woke up and had a coffee at the hotel. well, we woke up at 6am when the guy came to clean things up aorund the kitchen with a rake. then we had coffee and milled around. soon, we went back to our secluded spot. we had our breakfast there of arrepa stuffed with a fried egg and then swam a bit.
lonely planet says that playa blanca is pretty deserted except in the early afternoon when tour boats arrive. the previous day, from our secluded post, we noticed some boats docking on the side of the beach with palm trees. not a disturbing amount, but enough that we were happy to remain where we were. they didnt coe to our side of the beach and we didnt go to theirs. then, we crossed theat line. our bright idea that morning was to leave our secluded haven to go sit closer to where the palm trees were.
indeed, the sand on this side of the beach was finer, but even when we got there, a tourist boat was docked and day-beachers were circulating about. we assumed that the tour boats were just early that day. but then, another tour boat came - this time it was a miniature sized cruise ship called, 'alcatraz' that had an appendage boat packed with maybe 100 tourists - the atrocity. the appendage boat came directly to the port of the beach we were sitting at and everyone got out and sat next to us. we couldnt easily move, as we had already paid for our specific, immovable sun-cover.
aside from the shreiking children this brought, naturally, who peed in the water turning yellow that which was once blue, other tour boats who arrived in rapid succession - the horror - the blaring music of these tour boats, next came the immense density of sellers: bracelets, not what we wanted. coconut juice, thanks, but we dont need 58,000. shrimps, again, thanks, but stop asking us. ask the tourists. we are here for seclusion.
we waited it out, but by the time they all left, sunset was coming. we went back to our hotel and talked with gilbert, the french owner who seemed friendly enough. he had been living on playa blanca for 10 years and his hotel is called wittenberg. his is the only place that lonely planet mentions in its book, but it is certainly not the only place to stay on the island. i am convinced that lonely planet chooses only to highlight european or american owned businesses - good or not - and wants to foster a network of enbubbled european and american trevelers who meet only each other and dont support local businesses. im sure the wittenbergs of the world give a percentage of their inflated earnings to lonely planet.
wittenberg is not a good hotel and gilbert is an anti-evolutionist. he owns about hald of playa blanca, but the hotel grounds are made of scruffy grass and unfinshed paved areas. you can sling a hammock, but only in the kitchen out bacck by a boggy marsh where the animals sleep (there was a runaway cow incident during our second night). the whole grounds are set so far back from the beach that you cant even hear the waves. and when he gives you his business card when you leave, it is really just one of those 'why you will go to hell' comics that people try to hand out on the subways in new york. its as though he bought the land, got his name in lonely planet, then stopped improving his business.
meanwhile, anna and i returned to our secluded spot wihtt eh nice owners who when we let told us that next time we came, we should stay with them. and in fact, all of the restaurants offer space to sling yuo own hammock, or offer tents to rent so that you can sleep actually on the beach. preferable.
the last day was spent again as though playa blanca was a secluded beach. we swam, played with seaweed, ate well and enjoyed what has been by far the nicest beach ive ever stayed at. the most beeautiful. in the end, not the most deserted, but very beautiful. the people all in all are nice. many of them exist by selling things to tourists, but the majority of people respect if you dont want something and dont hound you to death and many will even stp for non-sale-related-conversation just for the sake of being nice. of course if you want to leave playa blanca, dont rely on the word of the motorboat drivers as far as departure times are concerned. there is a definite lack of respect for schedules on play blanca, which i guess is one of those things im supposed to see as being a cultural difference, though im sure that if my cultural difference was to pay less for services not rendered on time, peopel wouldnt respect my culture.
anyway, playa blanca was an excellent introduction to the paradise we were and are seeking. next up is taganga, a beach near the town of santa marta. it is meant to be touristy, but even bluer water and even taller palm trees and whiter sand. further along is a national park with a beach whose shape is a perfect U, and then another further along, but you have to hike through the national park to get to it, the whitest white sand, the deepest blue water, the least amount of people and the coconutest yielding palm trees youve ever seen. we will get there eventually...
Sunday, December 17, 2006
a travelers dream
cartegena has been a travelers dream.
a place not so overrun by tourists that it has lost its natural flavor. a place cheap enough to live the high life. a place that has extra cheap options for when you have run out of money trying to live the high life. a beautiful colonial city with brightly painted houses, newly cobbled cobblestone streets and outdoor cafes and bars open 24 hours a day. a place where everything makes sense.
there are some places you can go where things dont make sense. for example, cuenca is a colonial town, but you kind of have to use your imagination a bit to think about what it may have looked like in its heyday. montañita has nice juice stands all around the town, but you kind of get the impression that these are there because there is some vague idea going around town that tourists like fruit and juices and thats why they are there. in cartegena, you can be sitting around one of the many outdoor cafes that serve real coffee not nescafe and see women walk by carrying baskets of fruit on their head, watermelons, papayas, canteloupes, pineapples, etc. advertising that they make fruit salad, not just for tourists, but because people like eating fruit salad. there are juice stands that line the avenue overlooking the bay that make extra large fruit juices for everyone, but if you go there, you will likely be the only tourist at the stand, everyone else being on their way to work or out with their family. while drinking a 32 ounce pineapple/carrot juice this morning a family sat down with us, the juice seller obviously knew the kids and managed to get the little baby girl to laugh after a number of attempts at pinching her cheek. for those family members who didnt want juice, the juice stand also fried fishes and they ate that for breakfast instead.
there is never a reason to go inside in cartegena. all the food you could ever want is outside. morning coffee? outdoor cafe, or, there are guys - about 2 per block - that walk around with plastic cups and thermoses full of real brewed coffee. why is real brewed coffee such a treasure in this land of plentiful coffee? well, because it is impossible to get. it is underappreciated in ecuador and peru and shipped off to the united states almost 100% juice? i mentioned above. snack? you cant walk three feet in cartegena without running into a fruit stand that sells mangoes the size of heads, avocados the size of bowling balls and coconuts cut open so you can drink the juice. plus some other fruits you have never seen or heard of before. they have their own regional sweets that everyone eats. most of which are coconut based mixed with other fruits or flavors, such as dulce de leche and things like that. lunch and dinner are equally easy to find on the streets. there are barbeque stands everywhere selling chicken, sausages and some other more organy parts of animals smoking all day long. also, there are rows and rows of stands selling sea food, cups of shrimp, mussels, oysters in a ketchupy sauce. the restuarants that are affordable (there are many expensive and fancy restaurants and places here - anna and i actually got turned away from a museum for wearing shorts (though i cant imagine that anyone would want to wear pants here in the land of the 90 degree cold season) and this after months of being treated not only as though we might have money in our pockets but that we may in fact be made of money) are nothing special, though you can get modongo for pretty cheap, so then all the more reason to spend the entire day outside.
there is a whole lot of construction going on here. in fact, it is quite an accomplishment to get from one side of the street to another. every day, or seemingly by the hour, construction sites move and routes you have taken and gotten used to will be cut off. no matter though, people routinely walk through and over barriers, motorcyclists lift tape and ride underneath them. i dont mind the costruction so much. it shows that the city cares about itslef and the parts that are done are pretty. the sidewalks will soon be all brick, and the streets will all be paved - no problem. this work goes on all day and all night as there is no reason to stop or go inside.
tomorrow we are headed to an island nearby to spend a couple of nights on an undensely populated beach. we will be sleeping in hammocks and paying about $3 per night for shelter. not that we willbe inside, but we will have a cover in case it starts raining. yesterday we went to the city beach that is about a mile walk from where we are staying. the beach was nice. it was made up of many u shaped coves separated from each other by rocks. the water was nearly as hot as bath water and though our particular cove was not as crystal blue as others (perhaps this was why we were afforded a certain amount of solitude), it was not too filthy especially for a city beach that was not really reserved or controlled by hotels. there was some toilet paper type stuff there, but it washed away in time. across the street there was a restaurant that served fried fish with coconut rice and tostones (which are called patacones here for whatever reason). you go there and the lady shows you a cooler full of fresh fishes of differing sizes. i swear i saw a barracuda. it was too expensive though. anna and i got the cheapest smallest fish that was not very small at all. we sat and ate and tore off every remaining ounce of meat that fish had. be it from the tail, the head, the body, whatever. there were only bones left. then, we washed outselves off in the ocean and resumed sitting, reading, looking out over the caribbean sea and generally feeling fortunate and that if people dont want to visit colombia because of things they have heard then thats their bad. yes, we were asked by some man at the airport to deliver a package to some part of colombia for him, but we didnt do it, so all is well. all is perfect and so much so that it is confusing.
a place not so overrun by tourists that it has lost its natural flavor. a place cheap enough to live the high life. a place that has extra cheap options for when you have run out of money trying to live the high life. a beautiful colonial city with brightly painted houses, newly cobbled cobblestone streets and outdoor cafes and bars open 24 hours a day. a place where everything makes sense.
there are some places you can go where things dont make sense. for example, cuenca is a colonial town, but you kind of have to use your imagination a bit to think about what it may have looked like in its heyday. montañita has nice juice stands all around the town, but you kind of get the impression that these are there because there is some vague idea going around town that tourists like fruit and juices and thats why they are there. in cartegena, you can be sitting around one of the many outdoor cafes that serve real coffee not nescafe and see women walk by carrying baskets of fruit on their head, watermelons, papayas, canteloupes, pineapples, etc. advertising that they make fruit salad, not just for tourists, but because people like eating fruit salad. there are juice stands that line the avenue overlooking the bay that make extra large fruit juices for everyone, but if you go there, you will likely be the only tourist at the stand, everyone else being on their way to work or out with their family. while drinking a 32 ounce pineapple/carrot juice this morning a family sat down with us, the juice seller obviously knew the kids and managed to get the little baby girl to laugh after a number of attempts at pinching her cheek. for those family members who didnt want juice, the juice stand also fried fishes and they ate that for breakfast instead.
there is never a reason to go inside in cartegena. all the food you could ever want is outside. morning coffee? outdoor cafe, or, there are guys - about 2 per block - that walk around with plastic cups and thermoses full of real brewed coffee. why is real brewed coffee such a treasure in this land of plentiful coffee? well, because it is impossible to get. it is underappreciated in ecuador and peru and shipped off to the united states almost 100% juice? i mentioned above. snack? you cant walk three feet in cartegena without running into a fruit stand that sells mangoes the size of heads, avocados the size of bowling balls and coconuts cut open so you can drink the juice. plus some other fruits you have never seen or heard of before. they have their own regional sweets that everyone eats. most of which are coconut based mixed with other fruits or flavors, such as dulce de leche and things like that. lunch and dinner are equally easy to find on the streets. there are barbeque stands everywhere selling chicken, sausages and some other more organy parts of animals smoking all day long. also, there are rows and rows of stands selling sea food, cups of shrimp, mussels, oysters in a ketchupy sauce. the restuarants that are affordable (there are many expensive and fancy restaurants and places here - anna and i actually got turned away from a museum for wearing shorts (though i cant imagine that anyone would want to wear pants here in the land of the 90 degree cold season) and this after months of being treated not only as though we might have money in our pockets but that we may in fact be made of money) are nothing special, though you can get modongo for pretty cheap, so then all the more reason to spend the entire day outside.
there is a whole lot of construction going on here. in fact, it is quite an accomplishment to get from one side of the street to another. every day, or seemingly by the hour, construction sites move and routes you have taken and gotten used to will be cut off. no matter though, people routinely walk through and over barriers, motorcyclists lift tape and ride underneath them. i dont mind the costruction so much. it shows that the city cares about itslef and the parts that are done are pretty. the sidewalks will soon be all brick, and the streets will all be paved - no problem. this work goes on all day and all night as there is no reason to stop or go inside.
tomorrow we are headed to an island nearby to spend a couple of nights on an undensely populated beach. we will be sleeping in hammocks and paying about $3 per night for shelter. not that we willbe inside, but we will have a cover in case it starts raining. yesterday we went to the city beach that is about a mile walk from where we are staying. the beach was nice. it was made up of many u shaped coves separated from each other by rocks. the water was nearly as hot as bath water and though our particular cove was not as crystal blue as others (perhaps this was why we were afforded a certain amount of solitude), it was not too filthy especially for a city beach that was not really reserved or controlled by hotels. there was some toilet paper type stuff there, but it washed away in time. across the street there was a restaurant that served fried fish with coconut rice and tostones (which are called patacones here for whatever reason). you go there and the lady shows you a cooler full of fresh fishes of differing sizes. i swear i saw a barracuda. it was too expensive though. anna and i got the cheapest smallest fish that was not very small at all. we sat and ate and tore off every remaining ounce of meat that fish had. be it from the tail, the head, the body, whatever. there were only bones left. then, we washed outselves off in the ocean and resumed sitting, reading, looking out over the caribbean sea and generally feeling fortunate and that if people dont want to visit colombia because of things they have heard then thats their bad. yes, we were asked by some man at the airport to deliver a package to some part of colombia for him, but we didnt do it, so all is well. all is perfect and so much so that it is confusing.
Monday, December 11, 2006
getting out
so for the last night of cuenca (1st term that is) we went to some bar/club that was having an opening. personally, i would think that bars would coordinate their openings with the beginning of CEDEI semesters rather than the end when their most loyal and vociferous admirers scatter across the continent for a month of pleasure. nonetheless, that isnt how it went.
the clubs here have this bazaar system of getting paid. there is no "entrance fee", though if you dont want to drink, you cannot pay the difference at the door. you must buy the beer. when you come in, they give you a ticket. they put one persons name on the ticket and that person is responsible for everyone he/she comes in with. the number of people overall is written on the ticket. the ticket has a chart indicating all of the drinks the bar offers and spots for the bartender to check off as each drink is bought. when you leave, the bouncer checks your ticket to see that an appropriate number of boxes are checked relative to the number of people indicated on the ticket. the tickets are quite large to carry. all pandemonium breaks loose when either one person goes to buy a drink without his clan, or, when people of your clan try to leave seperately.
the other night, at the club i had mentioned, we came in with 6 people. me, anna, some other teachers, and two ecuadorian 19 year olds. one of the 19 year olds was the person whose name went on the ticket. it was going to be difficult, so, i was happy to see that the bartenders asked us to pay for the drinks up front rather than my having to track down said 19 year old each time i wanted a drink. it gave me hope for this new bar/club. they had exposed brick walls, a live band, and airy dance floor - and they didnt adhere to that silly ticket system. or so i thought.
anna and i danced, talked with people and stood around for a while. still we were ready to leave before others. we went to the door, but they wouldnt let us out without a stamped ticket. i went back in. the person whose name was on the ticket was dancing with a lady, so, i waited until the end of a song and approached him, "i need to leave and im on your ticket." he handed me the ticket, which was absolutely empty of stamps, x marks, checks or anything of the like. i took the ticket and gave it to the bartender. she stamped it and anna and i were finally able to leave.
a couple of hours later, anna got a call on her cell phone. it was our friends and they were wondering what happened to the ticket. as it turns out, the bouncer to whom i was supposed to give the ticket, lost it. therefore, there was no evidence that these 4 people actually had purchased the appropriate amount of drinks necessary to leave. there was a large argument and they all had to pay a $1.50 surcharge in the end for having lost their ticket. i felt at first that perhaps i should have showed the ticket to the bouncer and then given it back to the guy whose name was on the ticket. that would have required too much work and walking back and forth for me. i felt that it was the bouncers fault for having lost the ticket. then, i felt that it was the fault of the guy whose name was on the ticket for having been so lacksidasical with his responsibility. but mostly i blamed the system.
the busses have a strange system for taking tickets from people. you have to go first to the section of the bus station that has the companies that go to the place you want to go to. you choose which company you want. you buy the ticket and get a nice, printed on piece of paper. then, in order to leave the bus station you have to pay a $.10 fee. you get on the bus. here, both the bus driver and his assistant will watch you get on the bus without asking you anything. if you have a bag, the assistant will put it under the bus for you. once you are on the bus, the bus eventually leaves, the lights go off and you begin dozing off. invariably, at some point close to the border of the city, the bus will stop to pick up 55 more passengers. the lights will go on, the music will come on and the bus will leave again in this fashion. before long, the lights will go out but the music will stay on. you can still go to sleep this way and you doze off. then, at another point that seems absolutely random, the lights will come back on and the bus assistant will be coming down the aisle requesting peoples tickets.
through all of the obstacles, weve made it out of cuenca. we came here to baños on our way to latacunga and the quilatoa lake hike and eventually onto colombia later this week. so far weve seen days full of sun, warm nights, and international style food. getting out has been a healthy thing.
the clubs here have this bazaar system of getting paid. there is no "entrance fee", though if you dont want to drink, you cannot pay the difference at the door. you must buy the beer. when you come in, they give you a ticket. they put one persons name on the ticket and that person is responsible for everyone he/she comes in with. the number of people overall is written on the ticket. the ticket has a chart indicating all of the drinks the bar offers and spots for the bartender to check off as each drink is bought. when you leave, the bouncer checks your ticket to see that an appropriate number of boxes are checked relative to the number of people indicated on the ticket. the tickets are quite large to carry. all pandemonium breaks loose when either one person goes to buy a drink without his clan, or, when people of your clan try to leave seperately.
the other night, at the club i had mentioned, we came in with 6 people. me, anna, some other teachers, and two ecuadorian 19 year olds. one of the 19 year olds was the person whose name went on the ticket. it was going to be difficult, so, i was happy to see that the bartenders asked us to pay for the drinks up front rather than my having to track down said 19 year old each time i wanted a drink. it gave me hope for this new bar/club. they had exposed brick walls, a live band, and airy dance floor - and they didnt adhere to that silly ticket system. or so i thought.
anna and i danced, talked with people and stood around for a while. still we were ready to leave before others. we went to the door, but they wouldnt let us out without a stamped ticket. i went back in. the person whose name was on the ticket was dancing with a lady, so, i waited until the end of a song and approached him, "i need to leave and im on your ticket." he handed me the ticket, which was absolutely empty of stamps, x marks, checks or anything of the like. i took the ticket and gave it to the bartender. she stamped it and anna and i were finally able to leave.
a couple of hours later, anna got a call on her cell phone. it was our friends and they were wondering what happened to the ticket. as it turns out, the bouncer to whom i was supposed to give the ticket, lost it. therefore, there was no evidence that these 4 people actually had purchased the appropriate amount of drinks necessary to leave. there was a large argument and they all had to pay a $1.50 surcharge in the end for having lost their ticket. i felt at first that perhaps i should have showed the ticket to the bouncer and then given it back to the guy whose name was on the ticket. that would have required too much work and walking back and forth for me. i felt that it was the bouncers fault for having lost the ticket. then, i felt that it was the fault of the guy whose name was on the ticket for having been so lacksidasical with his responsibility. but mostly i blamed the system.
the busses have a strange system for taking tickets from people. you have to go first to the section of the bus station that has the companies that go to the place you want to go to. you choose which company you want. you buy the ticket and get a nice, printed on piece of paper. then, in order to leave the bus station you have to pay a $.10 fee. you get on the bus. here, both the bus driver and his assistant will watch you get on the bus without asking you anything. if you have a bag, the assistant will put it under the bus for you. once you are on the bus, the bus eventually leaves, the lights go off and you begin dozing off. invariably, at some point close to the border of the city, the bus will stop to pick up 55 more passengers. the lights will go on, the music will come on and the bus will leave again in this fashion. before long, the lights will go out but the music will stay on. you can still go to sleep this way and you doze off. then, at another point that seems absolutely random, the lights will come back on and the bus assistant will be coming down the aisle requesting peoples tickets.
through all of the obstacles, weve made it out of cuenca. we came here to baños on our way to latacunga and the quilatoa lake hike and eventually onto colombia later this week. so far weve seen days full of sun, warm nights, and international style food. getting out has been a healthy thing.
Tuesday, December 05, 2006
its not hot
late last week there was a day that it didnt rain. the next day, it didnt rain until 5 pm or so, so, during that day and a half i was under the impression that the rainy season had finally run its course and the sunny season was about to start. its rained each day since (not to mention the 30 previous days). the rain is something that i will have to get used to here. i intellectually understand this fact, but, i am so accustomed to thinking of rain in a different way. where im from, it rains every so often. on those days, you sit around and laze without any guilt. the next day is sunny again and you go on about your life. this works great. one is not normally caught off guard by the rain and on sunny days, one can walk around confidently - one can even make plans to do things that involve being outside hours in advance. here is different. here, if you laze around waiting for the sunny day to come, you will have never left your house (and although i do like my apartment - it isnt the optimal choice). you just get wet. you hurry around when it is sunny for fear that you will get dumped upon at any moment, so you want to get to where you are going. you hang your clothes to dry and they get rinsed over and over again.
nevertheless, it is almost christmas season here. people are stringing up lights and putting little santa clauses around everywhere. i cant help but thinking that santa must be a bit warm in his north pole outfit. i also cant help but thinking that all that wool must smell like dog after a while since everything gets so wet here. ive never thought that it is a good idea for cultures to adopt customs of other cultures without some adaptation. give santa some shorts for the daytime. give him some llamas to ride instead of reindeer. give him a raincoat for the mid afternoon or some gore-tex gear. give him a fleece for the night. dont just put santa clause in south america and assume all will be well. this is recipe for disaster.
surely ive mentioned before about the salsa/merengue/reggaeton phenomenon here in ecuador. one does get the feeling being here that ecuadorians have adopted these musics and see them as their own or at least coming from a very similar culture. however, because they speak spanish does not make cubans, dominicans, or puerto ricans much like ecuadorians. for example, i see my breath almost every day. this does not happen in the above mentioned countries. surely the lack of seeing ones breath (and the accompanied outfits) has influenced the tempo and rhythm of the musics.
the main square here has imported palm trees. just because there are palm trees in ecuador (on the coast) does not mean that it makes sense for cuenca to give its citizens the false sense of being palm-tree shaded, tropical people. the indigenous of cuenca wear sweaters, long tights and felt hats each day, and they listen to the flutey music that you would imagine andean people to listen to (the reason the flutes are so popular in their music is because the music was meant to copy the sounds of nature - most prevalent of such sounds being the wind). the young wear skimpy outfits (i know theyre cold) and listen to reggaeton.
but of course you cant blame ecuador. im just mentioning because this is where im at. 10% of ecuadorians have immigrated and the money they send back represents the 2nd largest source of national income after oil. this money has made ecuadorians enamored with foreign things - to the extent that they neglect their own (none of my students could name for me a current ecuadorian author, or a poular ecuadorian pop band). it has also given ecuador a false sense of wealth. you can often see huge suburban houses here in ecuador, with two cars in the driveway, but unused. these houses are built by people in other countries and are rarely used. people have learned to become consumers with the money being earned in the u.s. or spain, or italy (the 3 most immigrated to countries for ecuadorians) and the prices of regular things here in ecuador have risen as a result - in response to an intangible market force.
however, i was able to get fillings done for $15. as some of you know, i spent lots and lots of money - a ridiculous amount unworthy or blogspace - on dental work. here, $15. i also got some sort of laser procedure done that will reduce the sensitivity in some of my teeth. plus a cleaning and two fillings costed me less than $100. not bad. the fillings are white, the technology was up to date (unlike in new york where the technology was a little too futuristic for its own good, ie. clamps, suction, novacaine for each cavity, multiple appointments, etc.) and the service was quick. i was in and out since not a million hourse were spent clamping metal things onto my teeth, or waiting for novacaine to settle in (i admit that sometimes novacaine is necesary - but for smaller cavities, i would prefer teh seconds of pain to the hour of numbness), or waiting for x-rays to develop (here they used a camera the size of a pencil to search into my mouth for cavities. the images were projected and magnified onto a big, clear screen). by the end, i almost felt cheated to have to leave so soon. so, if you are with bad teeth, and you are uninsured, and you live in new york - come to ecuador. for the price of a ticket and then the price of dental work, you will save money over an equivalent amount of dental work and the price of a metrocard. its a nice experience.
nevertheless, it is almost christmas season here. people are stringing up lights and putting little santa clauses around everywhere. i cant help but thinking that santa must be a bit warm in his north pole outfit. i also cant help but thinking that all that wool must smell like dog after a while since everything gets so wet here. ive never thought that it is a good idea for cultures to adopt customs of other cultures without some adaptation. give santa some shorts for the daytime. give him some llamas to ride instead of reindeer. give him a raincoat for the mid afternoon or some gore-tex gear. give him a fleece for the night. dont just put santa clause in south america and assume all will be well. this is recipe for disaster.
surely ive mentioned before about the salsa/merengue/reggaeton phenomenon here in ecuador. one does get the feeling being here that ecuadorians have adopted these musics and see them as their own or at least coming from a very similar culture. however, because they speak spanish does not make cubans, dominicans, or puerto ricans much like ecuadorians. for example, i see my breath almost every day. this does not happen in the above mentioned countries. surely the lack of seeing ones breath (and the accompanied outfits) has influenced the tempo and rhythm of the musics.
the main square here has imported palm trees. just because there are palm trees in ecuador (on the coast) does not mean that it makes sense for cuenca to give its citizens the false sense of being palm-tree shaded, tropical people. the indigenous of cuenca wear sweaters, long tights and felt hats each day, and they listen to the flutey music that you would imagine andean people to listen to (the reason the flutes are so popular in their music is because the music was meant to copy the sounds of nature - most prevalent of such sounds being the wind). the young wear skimpy outfits (i know theyre cold) and listen to reggaeton.
but of course you cant blame ecuador. im just mentioning because this is where im at. 10% of ecuadorians have immigrated and the money they send back represents the 2nd largest source of national income after oil. this money has made ecuadorians enamored with foreign things - to the extent that they neglect their own (none of my students could name for me a current ecuadorian author, or a poular ecuadorian pop band). it has also given ecuador a false sense of wealth. you can often see huge suburban houses here in ecuador, with two cars in the driveway, but unused. these houses are built by people in other countries and are rarely used. people have learned to become consumers with the money being earned in the u.s. or spain, or italy (the 3 most immigrated to countries for ecuadorians) and the prices of regular things here in ecuador have risen as a result - in response to an intangible market force.
however, i was able to get fillings done for $15. as some of you know, i spent lots and lots of money - a ridiculous amount unworthy or blogspace - on dental work. here, $15. i also got some sort of laser procedure done that will reduce the sensitivity in some of my teeth. plus a cleaning and two fillings costed me less than $100. not bad. the fillings are white, the technology was up to date (unlike in new york where the technology was a little too futuristic for its own good, ie. clamps, suction, novacaine for each cavity, multiple appointments, etc.) and the service was quick. i was in and out since not a million hourse were spent clamping metal things onto my teeth, or waiting for novacaine to settle in (i admit that sometimes novacaine is necesary - but for smaller cavities, i would prefer teh seconds of pain to the hour of numbness), or waiting for x-rays to develop (here they used a camera the size of a pencil to search into my mouth for cavities. the images were projected and magnified onto a big, clear screen). by the end, i almost felt cheated to have to leave so soon. so, if you are with bad teeth, and you are uninsured, and you live in new york - come to ecuador. for the price of a ticket and then the price of dental work, you will save money over an equivalent amount of dental work and the price of a metrocard. its a nice experience.
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