Days in Medellin

It's almost that time again...time to move.

Medellin has been incredible, but I am done with the city and its classy, slightly uptight population and ready to get into some raw Colombia....one more day. Tomorrow, I head to Salento, deep in the heart of Colombia's coffee region.

Medellin was Pablo Escobars domain. While the people push the past into the past, the poverty and his rule are still apparent on the outskirts of the city. In the touristy, rich center, you could never tell, but a ride up the cable cars shows you a different world.

Gangs are still around, throwing their shoes over the wires, charging people to walk or drive there, making threats, and dealing drugs. Even a simple walk in the park and I am approached by men promising any drug my heart desires. (Haha)

My first day here, I met an energetic Dutch woman. Together we road the public metro cable up over the city, past the wealth, past the poverty, over some jungle, and to some shops an hiking trails over the mountain. 

That night I met up with Irfan (volunteer friend from Cartagena) for some food and mojitos! 

We had some wings, then we met up with a friend of mine I met in Panama. He owns a hostel there, and now lives in Medellin. We rocked out to Latin music as he drove us up over the city to mirador las palmas. It was an incredible view of the night lights of Medellin. 

While there, we got to experience authentic Colombia - hot cocoa with cheese. Sounds repulsive, I know, and the queso was a little much, but I guess it's the thing to do!

Yesterday, I jumped in a car with a Colombian hippie and some guys from Minnesota and headed to Guatape. We drove out of the city listening to Reggae and oldies and drove past farms of fat horses and cattle, tons of flowering trees, and beautiful hills and valleys.

We drove the back roads, on bumpy gravel trails through the woods...

After a delicious Colombian breakfast, our first stop was to see a church made out of a big rock...

Then, a rickety old bridge above a beautiful lake.

We crossed the sketchy bridge, being sure not to look down between the planks to the water 40 feet below.

We spent some time swimming and enjoying the incredible water, and jumping off the bridge! When we arrived our guide asked me if I wanted to jump and I quickly said no. Apparently I was feeling adventurous though, because I ended up jumping three times. Besides bungee jumping, I have never free fallen so far. Now, I am invincible. That adrenaline is addicting!

After the lake, we made our way to a giant rock in the middle of nowhere. Meteor maybe?

We arrived at the bottom, and then climbed to the top - 740 steps!

 

The guide told me that the climb would take 20 minutes and laughed when I told him 10...I got a workout and did it in 8. 

Our guide (I missed his name...) said that the "paisas", the local people, are pretty full of themselves and the view from the top is advertised as "the most beautiful view in the world". I wouldn't go that far, but it was pretty incredible.

Lakes and islands surround the rocks, the green land spotted with hotels, houses, and Holstein cows.

Back at the bottom, we were treated to another amazing meal of flavored rice, lentils, countless salads, eggplant, and a meat casserole off pork or the local sausage. The name escapes me, but it was incredible, and we were starving after that workout.

Our last stop was the actual town of Guatape, a cute little colonial town with beautiful paintings along the walls of the narrow streets.

And finally, after a much needed nap on the ride back, I met up with a few more of my wonderful volunteer friends from Cartagena. 

Love these kids. :) This afternoon we will all head up the cable cars again, enjoying one more day together before traveling our separate ways.

Until Selento. Ciao.

Nice to meet you, Medellin!

A morning spent teaching...

...some simply goodbyes to beautiful people...

...an hour flight of the most breathtaking clouds and landscape I have ever seen...

...and I arrived in Medellin.

(I apologize for awful photos - it was raining and I was in a bus/airplane. :))

I just entered a different world. I just exchanged dusty for wet. Humid heat to perfect cool. Sea salty air for lush rainy grass and pine. Full sun for pouring rain. Flat ocean to breath taking hills and valleys. Palm trees for every kind of tree. Poor, run down neighborhoods with sickly animals, for perfect roads and fields with herds of fat horses and cows.

And both of these places are Colombia? (Honestly, this area is exactly like my beloved Costa Rica. The rock walls we are driving along, the small rivers cascading down among the lush green, the deep valleys plunging down beside the road...)

Thankfully when I arrived, I easily found a bus to the city center and then a friendly man and his elderly mother spent almost a half hour helping me get a taxi during rush hour and didnt leave until I was safely on my way. (God is good!!)

The taxi ride took FOREVER and he didn't know the hostel, so after much time I asked him to drop me at the first hostel I saw. So, I am situated at Casa Blanca and have already met some people to hang out with. :)

And, a few of my volunteer friends are here as well, so hopefully we can meet up later.

Hasta luego.

Farewell, Cartagena.

Telling the kids "today is my last day" is pretty close to the hardest thing I ever have to say to anyone. The gut wrenching, heart twisting sadness is unbelievable, and it never gets easier.The look in their eyes as they ask, "why?" And my lame excuse that I want to travel or don't have enough money to stay...

It happens every time, and my only consolation is that I expected it. I came in knowing I will love, and knowing I will have to leave.

Every day here makes me want to stay longer, but staying longer will only make it harder. Because without fail, someday I have to leave.

Yesterday was my last day at Nelson Mandela, the school with 40 kids per class. It was by far the best experience I have had so far. We helped tutor kids in the morning, and after lunch the dear teacher Johnny gave me a ride on his motorcycle and took me through the dusty, poor, simple neighborhood to another school. I have never been whistled at so much as that seven minute bike ride. Apparently guys like blonde girls on bikes...

The neighborhood was a different world from anything I've ever seen. It is like you see on TV, or read in a magazine, but not something people like me experience. Emaciated animals roamed around, the houses were crooked and made out of old boards, everything was dusty and dry. There were tiny tiendas that all look the same and all sell the same simple snacks. Colorful birds were caged and hanging above the stores, chirping like lost chicks. Kids walked around barefoot, but a few were in school uniforms.  People sat on their "porches" giving is quizzical glances as we passed by. I believe I was the first volunteer to help at that school, and possibly the first blonde American to pass through - the neighborhood had been deemed dangerous, and even the founder of the school was unsupported in her decision to go there.

When we arrived at the school, I got a tour of the tech and shop classes. They were simple, with old looking equipment, yet adequate. 

I saw a few kids that I knew and they waved and smiled. I helped teach simple questions to a beautiful, happy, energetic class (the room had air conditioning!) and it made me want to stay so much more. They asked if I had a novio and laughed and joked when I hesitated to answer.

Before I left, I got pictures with some kids. Walking past one class, all of the kids yelled hi and waved and smiled, so I stuck my head in the door to say hi and take a picture. The kids excitedly ran to be in the picture and posed. Favorite photo to date.

After the cycle ride back, I had a half hour to just sit and talk to the kids in the library. My heart died as it came alive. Kids told me they loved me, they would miss me, and when I come back, I have to bring them iPods. :) Why, oh why must beautiful time disappear?

When I finally had to leave, I hugged the kids goodbye, and then said goodbye to Johnny. Johnny, the English teacher, made me feel more appreciated in my three weeks there than most people have in my life. He looked like he wanted to cry, and he thanked me so much, and said I am a good person. He hugged me, then hugged me again. We said goodbye, and I forced myself not to cry on the bumpy ride home, constantly reminding myself that there are new adventures to be had...new people to meet. Somehow, it doesn't make it easier.

And today...today was my last day at Marea. During lunch I sat in the little shack where we eat and nap, and I looked around the place, memorizing it; the buildings, the view of the city, the sound of the birds and teens somewhere in the distance...

I will myself to memorize everything, and I think about the kids...kids with such a broken past, and so much regret.

Ronny, Adorfo, Eduardo, Yulius, George, Hector, Jesus... The boys that named me friend, told me I had beautiful eyes and beautiful hair, boys that told me I was a nice and a good person and a good teacher, and so intently paid attention and asked questions as I taught them English. 

We laughed together -  from them teaching me to throw a football to me teaching them "th" and them teaching me "rrr" and all of us laughing because our mouths aren't made to say the other languages sounds.

The deep questions they wanted to ask me but we couldn't understand, so they were constantly asking someone to translate. Today the question was if I have ever made mistakes in my life. One of the boys interjected that everyone has made mistakes, but I think my only mistake is always leaving people I have grown to love.

They all wanted photos with me. Photo with one, photo with anther, another photo with the first one...photo with all of them at once. I ran out of memory space on my camera, which was probably a good thing, but it still made me sad.

We aren't allowed to hug them, but we did. Over and over we said goodbye, took photos, hugged...until finally there was no more time.

Sitting in the shack at lunch, I remembered seeing the dullness in their eyes slowly fade into new light in just a few short weeks. I wondered if I had played any part in the light returning to their eyes, and if it will again become slightly duller when I leave, or if other volunteers will quickly take my place.

One boy in particular captured my heart. I only knew him a week, but from the second I saw him...he drew me in. His eyes were so empty. He looked so sad. So I went and said hi. Suddenly, we were friends. He sat by me, quietly at first, and then...he began asking questions. We spent hours going over English, how to say "mother" and "father", "to kiss" and "too dance". He told me about his family, and about how he wants to be a mechanic when he moves on. I saw light grow, and I fell in love with that young boy. He was an artist, and I asked him to draw me a picture. He was going to make me my name in cool art and give it to me Tuesday...Telling him it was my last day was the worst... And suddenly, the sadness returned to his eyes, and my heart was shattered all over again.

Ronny told me to keep pictures of us and remember him, and made me promise to send him the pictures too, somehow. But being in that program, we aren't allowed to share our names or Facebook, making the fact that I will never see him again a reality.

This experience, So incredible. I am so blessed, and despite the sadness, I am so grateful for the time there. There was so much happiness, so much fun, so much laughing, so much learning, so many photos and games. 

Yet...The sadness in their eyes as I say goodbye makes me wonder once again if it is worth it. Did I really make any bit of difference? Did I affect them like they affect me? Is it really love if it is such a short time, and then I say goodbye forever? If so many volunteers come and go, does it just make them feel unloved and make me useless? Or does their newly learned English, the few memories, loving, laughing, and living in the moment make it all worth it?

As we drove away, Ronny looked in my eyes and didn't look away. I bit my lip until we were out of sight, and then I cried.

(Three of the four girls at the center)

The teens go to Marea for change, yet it is them changing me. They make me feel so beautiful. So valued. So loved. So appreciated...I come here to help them, but I think it is them that is helping me the most.