The end of an era / El final de una época

Yesterday marked a momentous occasion for me - I 'graduated' to the 8th gup (3rd level) of Taekwondo. I now have a 'real' martial arts belt (ie, not beginner's white) and I have to start preparing for combat and breaking things (...there's probably an official name for that). 

My old belt wrapped up for storage. The profe even wrote my name in purple! The white belt is for the first level, and the yellow stripe is for getting to the second.

Where I grew up university was pretty much a given. Out of the 120 people in my year at school I would say less than 10 didn't go to university, and of those who did, probably only another 5 never graduated (despite facebook I don't have exact statistics, sorry). The majority of my peers have (or have at least seriously considered) master's degrees or some other form of post-grad specialisation. Until I met lots of people from other backgrounds it never really crossed my mind that you could choose not to go to uni, or horrors! not even have the option (I've been extremely lucky just because of where I was born - thanks mum and dad!). Perhaps that's why my Taekwondo graduation ceremony yesterday seemed so much more momentous than I remember my university graduation to be - it was my own choice, paid for by me - not just 'what one does,' helped out considerably (= entirely) by my parents (or perhaps it's the almost decade that's passed since...).

Even the fact that I'm writing this on a different continent, in a country where the native language is not my own, doesn't seem as impressive to me as my new (bright yellow) belt. 

As part of the ceremony the teachers take off your old belt and tie the new one on for you. So very strange to be helped with your clothes in your late twenties!

When I first joined my dojang it was as a way of making new friends, and of spending more time with the friend I already had. It was something to do in the evenings and a form of exercise. It has become so much more than that.

Everyone cheers me on when I'm struggling, and congratulates me when I succeed - even if I was only trying to do 20 situps, a pathetic sum compared to the higher levels' 100. Just as much emphasis is placed on the theoretical and moral aspects of Taekwondo as on the physical - we have all sworn to be 'champions of justice and liberty' (I haven't picked my superhero name yet - suggestions on a postcard please). It's become my family away from home, the place where I can go to let off steam after a stressful day (punchbags ftw), share good news (and cakes), and remind myself that I'm rather awesome actually when I need to be.

Estrenando. Very pleased that while my white belt was a size 40, the yellow is only 38. I guess sit-ups do work after all!

As a competitive person (so much so that I even take being competitive competitively), I expected to be really upset (and to be completely honest, vengeful) about other people's successes when I couldn't equal them. Perhaps it's the belt system (the different colours are supposed to simultaneously motivate and humble us) but everything is just "OK" there. When I'm not as fast as everyone else, it's fine. If I can't complete the same number of pushups or kick quite as high or knock my partner over with a punch (we use lots of padding), there's no problem. Obviously there is plenty of friendly joking but no real comparison - you are what you are and your only benchmark is your own previous performance. (At this point my pride compels me to point out that actually I can kick really high and once (just once!) I was the fastest in the group.) It's the only place I really feel like I can let my guard down and just try, despite it being the only place I've ever had people queue up to hit me (yes, literally).

Me and my profe (V level black belt = don't mess).

I hope the day when I (have to?) leave Colombia is far in the future, but I already know that when and wherever I go next, I will miss these guys the most. When you come to Colombia, for whatever reason, the only certainty is that you will find (and fall in love with) much more than you expected.

감사합니다

How to: cheer yourself up / Como animarse

I got robbed. The next day I set off for DAS to try and get a new contraseña. That didn't go well, as they are under the impression I should pay $300,000 COP for a new one, and I do not suffer from this misconception (when I find out who is right I'll let the blogosphere know). So, what's a girl to do?

Well, if you're in a mood at DAS head south down the Cr 15. Next to the FotoJapon there's a couple selling really good arepas with cheese, ham, and eggs-with-onion-and-tomatoes for only 2300.

I challenge you to find something that tastes this good, is this filling, this closely resembles a balanced meal, is gluten free and costs less £1 in London. And where you get called a princess when they serve you :D A packet of crisps does not count.

Keep walking south on the Cr 15, stopping to get some fresh orange juice on the way, until you get to the Cl 85 with Cr 14. There you will find....

Knitting paradise! They even have seats outside to knit in!

La Mina! It's like the entire haberdashery department of John Lewis (including tiaras! I was very tempted) came to visit me in Colombia! Two balls of merino/alpaca and a couple of hours later I had a new hat:

Stuff you thieves - you can take my cédula but you can't take my knitting! Apparently you stole my ability to tidy up the stray ends of wool before I take photos though.

And just around the corner from that place of happiness, is this hairdressers:

Zoe: is life, is beauty.

Officially a good day after all :D

Why you should talk to the police

Once you've been robbed of (or merely lost) your documents you'll have to do something about replacing them. First step: Police! Lots of chocolate! Second Step: Police!

I wasn't exactly sure where or how to report crimes in Bogotá (and to be completely honest, I forget their equivalent of 999 about five seconds after I look it up. For future, and hopefully entirely unnecessary reference: 123). Thankfully, while I was stocking up on comfort food I found a pair of police officers. They were incredibly kind and helpful - not only telling me where to report the crime (just around the corner - phew!) but also regaling me with tales of ingenious pickpockets, the various times they'd been pickpocketed themselves, and just being nice and sympathetic in general. Feeling much less tonta (after all, if the police themselves get pickpocketed, I shouldn't feel bad about it happening to me!) I strode off to the police station where another pair of officers were outside. I'd arrived exactly at closing time (6pm) - noes! However, continuing the trend of lovely police officers one dashed inside to check that the relevant desk was still open, and came back saying that as I'm a foreigner (I strongly suspect he used a different word to the lady inside) they'll stay open five minutes just for me. 

Inside I was escorted to a comfy chair where a gorgeous lady with guns on her lapels (really not confidence inspiring to someone who's heard this story) took my details and gave me a form. In the end we decided to say that I had simply 'lost' my documents, as that form takes a matter of seconds to fill out and can be used immediately to apply for a new ID card. Actually filing a criminal complaint can take several weeks before you get to the point of being given useful papers, and besides, I really wasn't paying attention to the thieves so would be useless as a witness. 

All in all, visiting the police when you've been robbed is a really good idea. Not just because it's useful, but because they're all really good at cheering you up!

How to: get pick-pocketed / Como dar papaya

Well, this week I'm grateful for something that may surprise you: I'm grateful for being pickpocketed!

Last Tuesday I was happily minding my own business (mistake #1) on the way home from work. I got on the right bus (something that still makes me feel proud every time I do it - to the foreigners who've been here longer than I have: does the triumphant feeling ever go away? :D ) and sat near the back doors so that I could get off the bus easily. Nearing my 'stop' (ie: stretch of pavement) a woman got up in front of me and waited with her hand on the bell (on Colombian buses there is only one button to ring the bell, unlike in London where there are buttons all over the place). I asked her to ring for me please, and a couple of guys stood up behind me as if they wanted to get off at this stop too (it's next to a transmilenio footbridge and major crossroads - it's usually popular so I didn't think anything of it). When the bus screeched to a halt there was a polite kerfuffle of the 'you first, no, you first' type. I ended up getting off first, and... now that I think about it... last too. I don't believe the woman or the two guys got off with me. They stayed on the bus - as did my purse (with a pair of earrings that were gifted to me in it - nooooo! ), my diary (Why? What on earth did they think it was? Or do Colombians usually keep their cash in their diaries?) and my beautiful (I made it myself) little notebook in which I had not only tucked my ID cards, but had written all the useful buses, fun restaurants and knitting shops down in.

At this point I invite you to insert an appropriate string of expletives into the narrative. I'd provide my own selection but I know my grandmothers are going to read this. 

So, why am I grateful for this? Several reasons:

• I didn't have that much money with me in the first place. Yes, it was enough to buy me breakfast for a month, but in English money it was only about £20.
• There was absolutely no incriminating useful information in my diary whatsoever. For the last few weeks my timetable has been regular enough that I haven't needed to write down my classes in it, and I never got around to putting addresses or phone numbers in it. It had been a present though :(
• I have several more pretty little notebooks that I've made, so losing just one isn't a big deal. One of the ID cards inside it was from my old job, and therefore useless when not at that particular school, so no big loss to me. The other was, instead of being a real Cedula (official Colombian ID card) just the contraseña - an almost useless piece of paper that definitely won't let anyone open any bank accounts etc in my name. 

So, all in all it could definitely have been a lot worse. I didn't even realise they'd taken my things until two or three hours afterwards - vastly preferable to being mugged, wouldn't you say?

The moral of the story: wear angry boots more often :D

The Village / El Pueblo

Although Bogotá is Colombia's largest city (only half a million people less than London) sometimes it feels like a village in the middle of nowhere.

 For instance, would you really expect to find forested mountains less than 5 minutes away from the town centre (equivalent to Tottenham Court Road)?

Or see horse drawn carts that aren't for tourists, instead being used to transport (literally) all kinds of things? (No photo :( Apparently one of the things they transport is stolen goods so none of my friends have let me get my camera out near the zorros.)

 Or be entertained by chickens while you wait for your bus to work? (Or walk past cows on your way to the shops?)

Or have there be only one place in town where you can buy what you need? (OK, that's exaggerating. You can find things outside of their allotted district, but you'll never get the best price unless you go to the one shop street that sells it.)

Or see an entire roast pig on a regular basis? (My view of the countryside might not be entirely accurate, but I imagine people eat entire pigs quite often :D ) 

More big cities should do this, lechona is fantastic.

And I'm sure Bogotá is the last place on earth where there is always a gentleman offering his hand to you as you get off a bus (even at 6am). I can't imagine that happening in NY or London!

Strangely, I noticed this similarity while in a lift to the 27th floor. The view when I arrived was this:

I guess Bogotá is a big city after all... 

Things I'm grateful for this week

I gave in completely to the Olympics last week, and watched as much as I could in every spare moment I had, this was helped by the gymnastics (I'm convinced that they were all bitten by radioactive spiders as children) and the Taekwon-Do matches that I'd been waiting to see. (Hurrah for gold!) This week I was so happy to see Team GB doing well, and even happier to see the Colombians get a record breaking 8 medals (one gold, three silver and four bronze) - there are posters of the eight champions in al of the shopping centres, newspapers, magazines... Everywhere! Well done! I was happiest to see the end of the Olympics though - not because it's over but because it ended so well. That was an amazing concert :D (and for Christmas I want one of the Spice Girls' taxis please - best car ever after the Batmobile)

A little closer to (my temporary-ish) home, I owe plenty of gratitude to the kind strangers of Bogotá. In one day I managed to get on the wrong bus four times! Twice! (that's a total of 8 wrong buses...) Apparently 'straight down the Boyaca' does not mean 'straight down all of the Boyaca,' instead it means 'straight down the Boyaca until two blocks after I get on, then it goes West.' Oh, right... Similarly just because 'CAN' is written on the bus, doesn't mean that it will actually travel past CAN (unless I'm totally wrong about what CAN is. Quite likely.) Thankfully I have yet to find someone on a bus who doesn't enthusiastically give directions and advice on travelling in Bogotá in general. I've just got to learn to take advantage of this before I go through the turnstile and pay! 

Finally, although this is something I could say every week, I'm really glad I have internet access. This week it's helped me to reconnect to some lost acquaintances, get some extra classes to teach, and given me the inspiration and information I need to get some important (but boring) things sorted out. Thank you Britain for inventing the web (hey - it was in the opening ceremony for the Olympics - it must be true, right?)

Have a good week guys, there's only three days left until the weekend!

A random photo of the 'Summer Festival' in Simon Bolivar Park. This was taken just before the wind picked up, the sky filled with thousands (possibly literally) of kites, and my battery ran out, so I went to get barbecue instead of taking more pictures. I regret nothing ;)

It's the little things / Las cosas pequeñas

Most of the things I've written about here (or are planning to write about) are not Bogotá-based events - trips to the countryside, holidays in other countries, etc. 'My life in Bogotá' has become 'my life' faster than I'd expected. This is good (obviously) as I feel at home here, but I don't want to forget that I am, essentially, on holiday :D I also don't want anyone who's reading this outside Bogotá to miss out on the everyday pleasures of living here, or for me to forget what I get up to when I'm not having 'big adventures.' So, I've decided to post every week on the things that have made me happy. They may be specifically related to Bogotá, or they may just be cool things in general. They may even be completely forgotten about by the time next week comes along and it's time for another post :D

As everyone is talking about the Olympics, let's start there. One of the reasons I'm in Bogotá is to escape the Olympic madness that was predicted to descend on London this summer: the crowds, the transport problems, the even-more-expensive-than-usual prices, a shameful opening ceremony... I'd been planning to leave London during the Olympics since the games were first announced! Actually, it's not that bad! The opening ceremony was sweet, lovely, nostalgic, and just 'nice' in the way that I think only the English do so well. I'm so grateful that they didn't try to outdo the showiness of Beijing. Apparently the crowds in London aren't that bad either (everyone's probably escaped, as I have, or inside watching the games on TV) but I'm still glad I'm not there at the moment. Here I'm relatively unique, and one of the few Londoners available to be interrogated about asked whether we really do stop everything to drink tea at 5 o'clock, and if everyone is as tall as I am (I tell them I'm considered short in my country, heh heh). In London, I'd just be one of many, and all the foreigners would be able to see for themselves that actually we stop for a coffee break nowadays, and not just at 5pm.

So, although I'm glad I'm not in London right now, I'm even happier that I can still stay in touch with everyone over there. For the first time since Christmas I got to 'go' to a family reunion at my grandparents' house - travelling via Skype. I was sure I'd cry but in the end I was just so happy to see the majority of my family together, be able to listen in to my cousins fighting, hi-five my brother, and catch up on all the gossip that I completely forgot to be sad or nostalgic (I also forgot to wish my uncle a happy birthday, despite that being the reason for the party - sorry!). It was just lovely to 'be' there (although why did you all have to eat cake in front of me? Come on Skype, I want a cake/tea and biscuit transporter released in time for my birthday!). As much as I'm enjoying my time over here, I'm really glad that we are able to keep in touch. 

I've already put this on Facebook, but it's the best photo I've taken in 6 months, so I'm putting it here too:

My family: love you guys