Colegio Bolivar is a heck of a lot richer than our school. Their buildings are newer and nicer, and they have more technology than we do. The school provides the teachers with more than 2 ball point pens and 1 pencil for the year (my limit at the supply room) and I’m pretty sure they have reliable internet access and the power doesn’t go down a couple times a week, too. What a bunch of pansies. The conference was very informative, though most of the teaching ideas I learned require me to have the class quiet and attentive for more than 12 seconds at a time, which is usually not possible with our students.
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| Enjoying street beers and mingling with Colombian hippies at the Art Festival |
After the conference, we stayed at a hostel in San Antonio, Cali’s hippie neighbourhood, with some friends from our school who were also at the conference. There happened to be an artisan street festival going on, so Lisa had a field day buying all kinds of jewellery made of wood, bones, seeds, bits of dried plants, etc. We also saw people with real dreadlocks protesting against eating meat and got to try some “aphrodisiac” liquor that they make in Buenaventura on the Pacific Coast. Actually it was just 120-proof moonshine that tasted like kerosene, but who’s complaining at three dollars a Mickey? They had stages set up too, with men sporting big hats and grand moustaches playing bandolas and guitars and singing in close harmony.
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| A very small man with a big voice |
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| "Flowers" that were once used as maracas for kings, 3 for only 50 cents |
We also couldn’t help seeing some salsa dancing. Cali is the salsa capital of Colombia, and people are very serious about it there. Of course, it doesn’t make a whole lot of difference to me, because Colombians in general are very serious about salsa and I’m left in the dust anyway. Our 60-year-old doorman Leonel could probably out-salsa me dead drunk with a broken leg. At any rate, there was a salsa festival going on in Cali and that night a big international salsa competition was being held at the local bull-fighting ring. We went and it was pretty astounding. Couples from all over the world came onstage in costumes and hairdos so bright and sparkly that they blinded you and proceeded to dance so fast that you couldn’t see what they were doing anyway. The men, often very small men, would pick up their partners and flip and twirl them around in the air like they were made out of Styrofoam. One man with a blond Mohawk and a pink sequined pantsuit that had a V at the front down to his groin threw his lady up and spun her in a sort of blurringly fast horizontal full-body barrel roll that looked like something out of a CGI-heavy martial arts movie. The crowd approved. I also got to drink beer and eat some type of viscera I couldn’t identify from the concession stand.
Later we went to a salsa bar with the teachers that we met from Colegio Bolivar. It was a very small place with cheap beer and old salsa records from the 60s and 70s nailed all over the wall and ceiling. Most of the patrons just spilled out onto the street because there wasn’t enough space. I got some Dutch courage together and tried to dance with Lisa, but was only moderately successful (no crushed toes or pointing and laughing).
On the last day, we went to the zoo and saw stuff like this:
Later we went to a salsa bar with the teachers that we met from Colegio Bolivar. It was a very small place with cheap beer and old salsa records from the 60s and 70s nailed all over the wall and ceiling. Most of the patrons just spilled out onto the street because there wasn’t enough space. I got some Dutch courage together and tried to dance with Lisa, but was only moderately successful (no crushed toes or pointing and laughing).
On the last day, we went to the zoo and saw stuff like this:
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| Polly wanna feast on a dead clown? |
