But, seeing as my friends and family in the U.S. are stepping into fall, I thought it might be appropriate to focus on my "summer" travels here in Colombia.
You'll have to forgive me, though -- lumping my travels means starting back in April so that I can be sure not to leave anything out. I also lost a good deal of photos from La Guajira, as they were mostly on my old phone and are now lost in cyperspace.
So, without further ado (and to avoid procrastinating on this blog for yet another two months):
April: the month that I went on a trip to La Guajira, the northernmost tip of Colombia, with my 29-year-old host sister.
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| Allll desert in La Guajira |
I had agreed in a sort of spur-of-the-moment decision. My host sister, Angelica, owns her own store in the historic downtown of Cartagena, and takes regular trips to La Guajira to re-stock handmade items from the region, which is mostly indigenous.
La Guajira is like a state in Colombia, but it's mostly desert. It has a capital city, Rioacha, and other smaller cities that look just like the rest of the coast, but it also has a lot of land under the control of the tribes, especially the Wayuu, which is where my host sister buys most of her hand-stitched bags.
The region has actually been in the news quite a bit. As all of it is in Spanish I only catch bits and pieces, but many of the tribes who live on the very very northern tip of La Guajira are starving (understandable, as they live in a desert and have been in an extended drought) and often count on food and resources promised by the government, but which never come. Needless to say, I wasn't totally sure what to expect when I got there.
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| Angelica and I on the bus to Maicao, La Guajira |
We took a night bus (a solid nine hours -- kill me!!) and stayed with friends of Angelica's from college who are Wayuu but who live a modern lifestyle. Still, there is little indoor plumbing in the entirety of La Guajira, and things like air conditioning or shops not open air in general were hard to come by in the town they live, called Maicao.
Angelica was really sweet and wanted me to see as much as possible, so she took me to have lunch with her and her main bag supplier, a Wayuu woman who lived a very simple life with her children. Nonetheless, she shared everything she had with Angelica and I, including the region's specialty: chiva -- goat! It was fried and one of the most delicious meats I have ever tasted.
We explored a little bit around their property, including an area that used to be a lake but which was completely dry due to extreme drought in the region.
That night, we were invited to a party. A birthday party for a mother of one of Angelica's friend's sister's boyfriend's mother's.
That's right. haha.
It looked like the entire town had been invited, and all of the family members showed up wearing shirts they had made that described their relationship to the woman of the night.
(Here, a sidenote: I have learned that birthdays in Colombia are a big deal. Practically everyone I have met here asks me when my birthday is. And unlike in the U.S.,, it's very common to announce to the world when it's your big day. Colombians seem to love to be showered with sweet words and small tokens of affection, and they also love to do the showering. On the coast especially, it's not uncommon to see a little house with streamers and balloons outside. Always there is a big cake and plastic lawn chairs arranged in a circle. There is a giant speaker out on the porch playing music very, very, very loud, even if no one is outside. And, eventually -- sometimes immediately, and sometimes a few hours after the adults have a little more aguardiente in their system - there is dancing).
So, this party was one of those typical Colombian birthdays I had seen -- but multiplied by 1,000. So many people. So many lawn chairs. So. Much. Liquor. Our little table was supplied with a bottle of rum, and when it ran low, another one magically appeared. And another. (Don't worry, mom -- I was too busy trying to following the 15 different conversations going on in Spanish to take part).
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| Angelica and I exploring desert |
The other thing I love about parties here is how Colombians drink. Usually, one person stands up with a bottle of liquor in their hand, and they pour a tiny bit into a plastic cup -- one of those cups that you would use to take a dose of cough syrup. They hand it to out, then someone takes it and returns the cup. They refill it and hand it to the next person. And so on, in a neverending circle. It's funny to see someone take on the responsibility as shot master, but also a lot of fun.
Anyhoo. My table was really kicking back those tiny plastic cups.
And then, a mariachi band came and played, and everyone danced. And then, another band came, the same kind that plays during carnaval in Barranquilla.
And even though I had only just met all of Angelica's friends, they grabbed my hand and made me dance with them. They started calling me "amiga Ana" and I stopped worrying about the fact that I was only understanding about 50 percent of any conversation, and I started to just have fun.
Then we got tired, and Angelica and I went home.
But that's not all -- I promise, I drew out this story for a reason.
Because when we went back to the friend's sister's boyfriend's mother's house, around 11 a.m.
the next day .... The party was still going on.
the next day .... The party was still going on.
People were still dancing ...There was still a shot master, though it was a different person than before. Music was still playing. There were fewer people, yes, but a solid number of people upright and celebrating.
Yup. Angelica said she wasn't surprised. She said .... and I kid you not .... that these parties sometimes go on ... for a week or more. I'm not kidding!! That's what she said!!
It was pretty obvious from our trip to La Guajira that it is probably one of the poorest regions in the country. But it was an interesting, and inspiring, and crazy and a little bit of a sad experience, too, to be a part of something so simple that was reason for so much celebration.
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