Wonders Never Cease!

Culture shock is REAL!

With moving to any new town, city, or country, some form of culture shock is inevitable. A previous blog of mine spoke of one such instance. This one takes another spin, and addresses those things that made me gasp, scream, shake, or bathe in five minutes. Each experience begins with the question I asked upon learning about the new piece of cultural information- translated to English, of course. Enjoy!

"What exactly was making that noise?"

One night, I was watching a movie entitled, "The Last House On The Left". I consider it to be a scary movie with a lot of gore, and moments that make your heart race. Although I knew that I would get nightmares, I refused to change the channel, and remained glued to the television screen. In one scene, the "Dad" bludgeoned one of the "Bad Guys" with a hammer, while the dramatic lightening flashed in the background. Who knew the human skull was so soft? Perhaps, doctors? Anyway, as soon as the hammer made contact with his head, I heard a very real noise from inside the house. It sounded like a cross between a monkey, a mouse, and a parrot. Although that probably wasn´t the best description ever, what matters is that, whatever it was scared the bejesus out of me. I immediately turned off the television, and ran up the stairs, tripping once on my way up. Mama ain't raise no fool!

The next day I asked my former land lord, "What exactly was making that noise, last night?" I had to mimic the noise for him, and once I did, he let me know that it was a lizard which is very popular in Neiva. They can usually be seen everywhere- in the bathroom, the kitchen, out on the balcony, behind the computer, in your room, EVERYWHERE! Oh lawd, now I have to deal with a monkey-parrot sounding lizard! Thus far, no one shares my concern over these creatures. They even laugh at my "flesh eating lizard" and my "if a lizard falls on your belly, it means you're pregnant" theories. The latter has been proven, just so you know!

"Really?"

It was my first outing to the University in Neiva, and I was so excited. I got up, ironed my clothes, polished my shoes, clipped my fingernails, and then, it was off to the bathroom. I hung up my towel, stripped, brushed my teeth, stretched, jumped in the bathroom, and instinctively, looked for the hot water switch. There wasn't any in plain sight, and, after looking everywhere including behind the toilet, I still couldn't find it. Naturally, I asked about the lack of a water heater switch, and my worst fears were realised- there wasn't one!

Apparently, in hot regions like Neiva, it is customary to take cold showers to keep you cool during the day. Quite frankly, this makes no sense to me whatsoever! I mean, Trinidad's climate is just as hot as Neiva, and almost every Trinidadian household has hot water in the bathroom. Plus, bathing in cold water does not keep you cool because as soon as you put on your clothes, you start sweating! Although the prospect of a cold, early morning, balls-shrinking bath was daunting, I decided that it would be a cultural experience, and took the plunge. Let's just say that that was the fastest I have ever bathed in my life! Since then, I have become quite accustomed to taking cold showers. I have even realised that if say, "Lawd, no sickness!" before I bathe in the morning, I wouldn´t get sick. YAY ME!

"Is that a baby on a motorbike?"

Yes, you read that correctly! I realised early on that Neiva is teeming with motorcycles of varying sizes, models, and colours. Everyone seems to have one; from men to women to university students to executives. It wasn´t that shocking for me, and eventually I became quite accustomed to seeing thousands of motorbikes on a daily basis, weaving through traffic to the annoyance of other drivers and pedestrians alike. One day, this all changed though!

I was in a car, on my way to taste guarapo for the first time when it happened. There, sitting on a swanky, red motorcycle was a man and his wife who was holding their baby in her hands. He/ she seemed to be no more than six months old, and was resting on his/ her mother´s busom like nobody´s business. Nobody seemed phased by this phenomenon, so I just had to ask to make sure that I wasn´t going crazy, and there was a baby on the motorbike. After asking, I learned that: 1) it is a baby, and 2) although it is illegal to have more than two people on a motorbike, much less a baby, most people/ families do it anyway. To this day, everywhere I go, I see more example of these fast and furious babies and toddlers. Wonders never cease! 

Well, that´s all for now! Until the next post... chao!

Maritza Scarred Me!

What have you done to me!?!

Sometimes in life, you have bad experiences that never really leave you. Of all those experiences I´ve had in my life,  I must say that the time I spent living with Maritza is probably one of the worst. For those of you who don´t know, or may have forgotten, Maritza Ratoncita Pukeko Dragon- Face Torres was the woman in whose house I lived when I was in Bogotá between 2010 and 2011. She was a budding dictator with her strange house rules, her knack for knowing about everything that happened in the apartment, her underhanded tactics, and her overbearing demeanour. I admit that perhaps, I wasn´t the best tenant, but the way she reacted to my indiscretions could be filed in the dictionary under the word "INTENSE". Now that I´m away from home again, I´ve found myself having to live in someone else´s home. Although everyone isn´t as intense as Maritza, I still feel this need to avoid conflict at all costs, and a heightened sense of paranoia seems to permeate the air. Basically, I blame Dragon Face!

Since arriving in Neiva, I´ve moved three times. Everyone I stayed with, before finding my permanent residence, was very nice and accommodating. The apartments were comfortable, furnished, and I had everything that I needed to survive. Amidst all the niceties, I could not allow myself to relax. There were all these questions that I needed to ask to ensure my peace of mind. For example: "How much time can I spend in the bathroom?", "How much loads of laundry am I allowed to do?", "Is there a cleaning schedule for the apartment?", and "Can I watch television?", just to name a few. To some, these questions may seem a bit weird to ask someone when first meeting them, but after living with Maritza, they seemed appropriate. I mean, I had to take 5- minute baths, and wash black clothes with light colours because I was only allowed two loads of laundry a week. The first scar of Maritza had reared it´s ugly head, and it wouldn´t be the last time.

I noticed that even after clarifying my doubts on the house rules by having my questions answered, I still couldn´t become 100% comfortable. I needed to avoid conflict at all costs, so my goal in life was to become the "World´s Best Tenant!" I reasoned that if I were perfect, and made no mistakes that all will be well. I mean, it worked with Maritza- well, most times- so, why wouldn´t it work now? I started to watch my every move; I ensured that my room was always clean, that I didn´t make too much noise, that I washed all the soap down the drain after bathing, that I wiped the face basin after brushing my teeth etc. The thing is that, as humans we are not perfect! Thus, in trying to be perfect, I drove myself crazy! I would worry about the most mundane things, and if I didn´t do something correctly before leaving the house, it would haunt me for the entire day. My brain would create these scenarios that all ended with me coming home to find my luggage in front the apartment, the locks changed, and a vagrant wearing one of my nice shirts. It was stressful, frustrating, tiring, and unhealthy in my humblest of opinions. No one should have to live like that! Perhaps, I´m being dramatic, but hey, that´s me! Again, thanks Maritza!

Finally, there was the paranoia! I started to feel as though everything was my fault, even when there was no need to feel that way. Every look and drawn out silence became an accusation. If someone forgot to greet me when they entered the house, I would sit and wonder why, and arrive at the conclusion that it was because of me. Then, there´s that feeling that if things change in the apartment, it was done to prevent you from using too much. This paranoia reminds me of what it was like living with Maritza. She wasn´t one to come out, and tell you that you were doing something wrong all the time. She would leave notes, or whisper to her man late at night when she thought you were sleeping, or mark the water level, or disconnect the cable from the television. Her underhandedness was legendary, to be frank!

This blog was hand written late at night about two weeks ago. Now, I virtually live by myself, and it feels great! I don´t feel as stressed and worried as I used to. I still try to be careful, and have my own stuff though. Admittedly, it doesn´t seem necessary. My only concern now is renting a washing machine!

Until the next post... CHAO!

Neiva, I Love You!

So far, so good!

Thursday, August 9th, 2012 marked two weeks since I had been in  sunny Neiva. The old addage, "So far, so good!" is the most appropriate to describe the experience thus far. I am being productive, punctual, meeting new people, Spanishfying, and adapting to the new culture. There are some aspects of said culture that have been a bit difficult to become accustomed to, but this blog isn´t about that. I want to share with you, those things that I absolutely love, and particularly enjoy about Neiva. You know, those things that make me feel all warm inside; warmth that has nothing to do with the heat, or warning me about impending diarrhoea. For some reason, that diarrhoea bit sounded funnier in my head!

Cholupa, according to my gracious, Opita host, is a cousin of passion fruit; a sweet, sexy, tasty one at that. The fruit is grown solely in the Department of Huila- Neiva is its capital- and functions as its National Fruit in my opinion. Smaller than its passionate cousin, cholupa is green with a tough exterior; a yellow interior, black seeds encased in a jelly-like membrane, and proves that big things can indeed come in small packages. The first time I tasted cholupa, I admit that I was a bit hesitant. I usually am when it comes to trying new foods as I´m a very picky eater/ drinker, and my face betrays just how much I don´t like something. I took the plunge, and was rewarded with the most refreshing, fruitiest, sweetest juice I have ever tasted in 22 years, 10 months, 43 weeks and 2 days- I may be studying languages, but my Math is good! My entire body orgasmed- from my taste buds to my toes- as Ms. Cholupa travelled downward, making me tingle. It felt better than sex yo! (Not that I would know anyway, Mummy!) Everyday since, I must have at least one cup of cholupa, I go out and search for it with fervour, like some strung out cholupa whore. It´s relatively easy to find, since there is a lil shop in the school´s mosquito infested, "no light at night" cafeteria that serves the drink for ah mil- real cheap! Below is a photo of cholupa; ain´t she a beauty?

In Form One, I remembered reading about the Siesta, that is, a short, mid-afternoon nap taken in the early afternoon, usually after lunch, in some countries. I always associated siestas with Spain, and was therefore, not that shocked when I noticed that no one took them in Bogotá. I just assumed that Bogotá set the precedent for how everything was done in Colombia, and I came to the conclusion that siestas were non-existent here. Ha! Imagine my surprise when on my first day, other teachers in the staff room packed up their stuff, and left at minutes to twelve. As I´m heading to the house, I noticed that the lil tienda on the corner was closed, and the streets were too eerie for midday. I arrived at the house to find my host in home clothes, re-heating the food he cooked that morning. After we had lunch, he retired to his bedroom, only to get up two hours later, re-dress, and head back to work. Eventually, I learned that during the week, between 12 noon and 2 PM, the majority of Neivans take a siesta. I was elated because it meant that I could sleep for two hours in the mid-afternoon, and not be considered lazy because culture dictates that it is normal. Sadly, taking a nap is not as easy as it sounds! You need to take off your clothes, sleep, get up, bathe, brush your teeth, and basically, get ready all over again. Plus, for some reason, it´s even hotter in Neiva during siesta! Once, I accept everything that the siesta has to offer, I suppose that I will grow to love this restful part of the culture.

Quite frankly, I expected Music in Neiva to be VERY traditional. You know, old, soaring ballads about sea foam and ashes! While I can appreciate the historical and cultural importance of songs like those, they can become repetitive and dull, and make you contemplate suicide. Luckily, I was very wrong about what kind of music is played on the radios, in clubs/ bars, and in people´s homes. The music features an eclectic mix of Vallenato, techno, ballads, American contemporary and rock, and reggaeton. This was particularly shocking as a lot of Colombians are aversed to this genre of music with it´s raunchy, dirty lyrics and beats that make you want to grind on someone, and/ or wine on yuh head on ah marble table. Vallenato, which I never really liked the first time around, is now growing on me. The lyrics are beautiful, and speak about a range of issues that tend to happen to people who are in love, or have fallen out of love. And well, ballads are AMAZING in any language! Do not despair young ones, I have posted links to some songs from each genre that have caught my attention!

Después De Ti- Felipe Peláez and Manuel Julian (Vallenato)
Traga´o De Ti- Peter Manjarrés (Vallenato)

Lo Mejor Que Hay En Mi Vida- Andrés Cepeda (Balada)

¡Corre!- Joy & Jesse (Balada)

Hasta El Techo- ChocQuibTown (Genre Unclear)

Te Pintaron Pajaritos- Yandel and Yostin ft. Andy Rivera (Reggaeton)

Llegamos A La Disco- Daddy Yankee and a lot of other Artistes (Reggaeton)  

Inténtalo- 3BallMTY ft. El Bebeto and América Sierra (Genre Unclear)

I hope to learn more about Neiva in the coming months, and grow to love this part of Colombia even more. Until the next post folks!

What Are You Wearing?

(Source)

 Mi tell dem man is not an issue cause mi pum pum tun up

Head ah mash up, because mi pum pum tun up

A yah so good, so him nuh miss you cause mi pum pum tun up

Pum pum tun up, mi sah mi pum pum tun up

After four days in the apartment, I went downtown today for the first time to organize my cédula extranjería or ID card, for you non-Spanish speakers. It was a long process that involved walking around, taking photos, getting fingerprinted, and talking with the guy who was in charge of the whole process about what Trinidad and Tobago had to offer. Amidst all the black ink, flying spittle, and walking around, I had the opportunity to do what I do best, that is, maco. What particularly stood out to me was the way in which the majority of women tend to dress in Neiva. Some looked as though they were going clubbing on a Monday, while others seemed to be advertising to men everywhere that the pum pum tun up.

Imagine in a big, government office, a female employee dressed in a leopard-print jumpsuit with cut out shoulders, and white wedged heels with matching leopard scrunchie and earrings. Meanwhile, her colleague is wearing a pencil pants, a lingerie-esque top with a lace back, and six inch purple and red pumps, taking photos with the cleaning lady who she happens to know from school. The trend continued throughout the city, as the majority of young, "professional" women appeared ready for a long night of dancing, or dinner with an oil rich, old man. These women came across as very inappropriate and unprofessional in my humblest of opinions. I mean, I cannot begin to take you seriously if your big breasts are in my face, especially if they are being held down by leopard cloth. How tacky!

Then, there were the “Delilahs” and “Silvias” who looked downright loose in their tight jeans, spaghetti strap tops, pum pum shorts or short skirts, straddling motorcycles and scooters. I suppose that for the normal, red blooded, tusty male- the sight of so many scantily clad women, riding motorcycles is a turn on, no matter how big their bellies are or how black between their legs are or how sweaty/ dusty they look! To me, they come across as being very easy, lacking class and self-respect. I mean, they leave nothing to the imagination! Maybe, I´m a prude, or really old fashioned?

Overall, this may all be cultural and I´m going to have to get accustomed. It´s not like Trinidad is lacking its share of inappropriately, sluttily dressed young ladies. Just visit some Ministry offices on South Quay, or spend an hour in City Gate. Better yet, go to UWI! You´ll see it all!

Until the next post… Chao!

Pet Peeves Are All Around Us- Dressing for the World of Work

GRRR!

Pet peeves are those actions, objects, or people that we find particularly annoying. They are individualistic, meaning that, what annoys one person, may not annoy someone else. I have a lot of pet peeves which means that I end up pissed off during the day for extended periods of time. As I am now a part of the world of work, I've been exposed to a new set of pet peeves that revolve around the way some men dress. Here goes...

1) Book-bags with work attire

I don't even know where to begin with this one. YOU ARE NOT GOING TO SCHOOL! THERE IS NO NEED FOR A BACK PACK! Nothing gets me more upset than seeing men, young and old, in their nice suits, or long-sleeved shirts in pants with a nice shoe, and a BIG, BOOK BAG on their back. It looks so unprofessional! What irks me even more is the fact that to them, "they in style", and they have "swag" so, they bounce like fools, grinning from ear to ear. Oh, and is better fete if is ah JanSport! Furthermore, once you take off the bag, that area of your shirt looks so untidy, and if he happens to be a person who sweats a lot, you see those unsightly wet spots. Oh geed! Why not get a nice bag that you can sling on one shoulder? JanSport sells those! Or perhaps, a nice pouch or something. Just get rid off the book bag!

2) Black Pants, White Socks

Unless you are MICHEAL JACKSON, THAT ^^^ does not work, AT ALL! It annoys me that you think it does. I've said enough. 

3) Pant Seams That Go Way Up in the Back

(NO PHOTO AVAILABLE)

You guys will have to use your imagination, but I have a feeling you know exactly what I'm talking about. Some guys feel the need to carry the seam at the back of their pants all the way to the center loop. It looks like you have a big "A" stamped on your ass, which is fitting since you look like an ass, or an arrow pointing toward God knows what. I applaud your neatness and attention to detail, but it looks ridiculous and it irritates me. It looks better if the seam at the back stops right under your butt cheeks. Jus' sayin'!

4) Shoes and Belt Don't Match

Black belt, black shoes... Brown belt, brown shoes. Got it?!? Good!

So yeah... stop annoying me! Ah gone! 

Finally!

Yep, that's the truth!

After nine months of abandoning my glorious blog/ creative outlet, I'm back and ready to re-vamp Garvin's World. It has been a trying, stressful, tiring, paper filled past few months. Thank you very much UWI, St. Augustine! After misleading information from former, final year students about Year Three being a breeze- Curse you!-, I was labouring under the delusion that final year would have been my BEST year at UWI. These past two semesters were the WORSE in my opinion especially when it came to time management on my part, and I had no time to blog because all my writing energy was channeled into my thesis. The good news is that the semester is FINALLY over, I can FINALLY devote more time to Garvin's World, and I have a different outlook on how I want to approach this facet of my life. Before talking- well, writing- about my blog plans, I think it appropriate to clue you all into what's been happening since October 2011.

Thesis: HUMN 3099- The Caribbean Studies Project had been a big part of my life since October but, more so during the early months of 2012. The project is actually a 8000 word thesis on a topic of your choosing; it must be impeccably written, and presented in accordance with the MLA or Modern Language ASSociation. The project is designed to help you hone in on your research skills, and stamp your name in the annals of history. What really happens is that the thesis invades every aspect of your life like a disease, and most times, your thesis ends up in West Indiana, collecting dust.

Entitled, "A Place for Women?- The Evolution of the Roles of the Female in the Trinidad and Tobago Police Service 1955-2011", my thesis studied- 1) the changes in the roles that women have played in the TTPS since being recruited for the first time in 1955 to 2011, 2) the factors that brought about the changes, 3) how their roles affect/ have affected their status in the police service and the challenges they face/ faced, and 4) possibilities for further change. Wow, in my humble opinion, it sounds impressive! I can honestly say that I was interested in doing research on the topic and presenting my findings. I think being passionate about your topic is the first step in doing a successful thesis because when you start to feel overwhelmed- and, you DO- it's your passion for the topic that  keeps you going. That, or the fact that HUMN 3099 is worth six credits! Perhaps, I'll do another blog on the ups and downs of finishing a thesis. Until then, let this suffice.

I'm trying to think about what else happened that deserves mention in this blog post but, I got nothin'! So, moving on...

As I said earlier, I want to dedicate more time to really develop Garvin's World. Who knows? Maybe, one day this blog will make me famous. Delusions of grandeur? Nope, not at all! I think this post-UWI stage of my life should provide some interesting topics to write about. I mean, I'm about to officially enter the world of work with no plans of going back to school until September 2013- provided that the world doesn't end. But I don't only want to write about my adventures, I want to give my opinion on issues. Also, I've been doing a lot of soul searching recently, uncovering my flaws, and having grand discussions with myself. Basically, I'm trying to include more content as opposed to the one note blog posts about iguanas and security guards and maxi taxis. I know that writing about such things have become sort of my signature so don't worry, there will be posts like those mixed in with the new content. As usual, I'll try not to be funny which works well for me.

Here's to the return of Garvin's World, I hope you guys are excited because I am. The world revolves around me so whatever I feel, you guys HAVE TO feel it too. Jus' kiddin'! Well, not really...

Freaky, Stalker, Security Guard Lady!

Good looks are a blessing and a curse!

I have a penchant for attracting older women as they find me charming, funny, well-mannered and easy on the eyes. Usually, we end up talking or unintentionally flirting and I'm OK with that. Aside from a woman once telling me that she would kidnap me, take me home, put me in a glass case and just look at me everyday, nothing has ever really come out of these "attractions"- that was until I met Ornella. Following is a blog post about my newest admirer, a security guard who works in the hospital across the street.

I first met Ornella in the pharmacy at the end of my street. At first I didn't really notice her presence as I was late for class, worried about my pending assignments and just wanted to buy my mints and be on my way. My less than pleasant demeanour seemed to arouse her curiosity as she turned to me and smiled. She was a short, burly, black lipped woman of East Indian descent who was dressed in her Amalgamated security uniform with her gun on her side, bullet proof vest fastened who looked at me from head to toe as I asked for one dollar in mints. As I paid for my mints and turned to leave, she shifted slightly in front the door and started to talk to me:

Ornella: Who vex yuh?

Me: Nothing! (I was particularly annoyed because I hate when people think that because you're not smiling "somebody vex yuh")

Ornella: Well smile nah, yuh too handsome to be looking so vex!

Against my better judgement, I smiled and said thank you. On turning around after I had left the pharmacy, I saw Ornella waving at me and smiling which I assumed was normal behaviour.

Two weeks passed before I saw Ornella again. This time she was in front the pharmacy smoking a cigarette which repulsed me and helped me to understand why her lips were so black. Suddenly she was walking beside me, telling me about working a double shift that had started the night before and how tired she felt. She seemed to think that the fact that I was entertaining her meant that we were friends and proceeded to ask me my name, after telling me that hers was Ornella. I could have felt my inner-Garvin screaming at me to give her a fake name and that was exactly what I did. As far as Ornella knows, my name is Micheal and I attend UTT. I made nothing of this encounter because I kept on telling myself that I was being overly dramatic and paranoid. I started to notice that after the second encounter, I would always see Ornella either smoking a cigarette in front the pharmacy or standing around the hospital which was understandable since she worked there. She would always make small talk with me and would wave whilst, I would walk by quickly because I couldn't shake the weird vibe that I got from her. Daddy always says, "Follow yuh vibes!" and once again, my vibes were right.

I had taken a week long sabbatical from UWI -it's a tradition- and I was making my re-emergence to the hallowed halls of CLL when Ornella justified the vibes that I had had. This time, she opted to not stand at her usual spot but come out of a track to the side of a house, two houses away from mine. I was therefore, startled to see her standing next to me in all her female security guard glory, fully equipped with her smelly bullet proof vest and a gormless grin.

Ornella: "Micheal!" (all cheery)

Me: "Hi!" (all skeptical)

Ornella: "I like yuh shirt!" Then, "How come yuh didn't go to school last week?"

Me: "How do you know that I didn't go to school?" (skepticism mingled with fear)

Ornella: "Cuz I eh see you pass when you usually do! I was worried but then, I used to see you in yuh gallery sometimes." (smiles)

Time seemed to stop for an eternity as I grappled with everything that she had just said. She knew where I lived, when I went to school and when I went out into my gallery? Maybe, she's just really observant given her job? Maybe, she happened to be standing outside on that one day when I went outside? I mean, it's totally coincidental that she ran into me on that day or that she happened to be close by whenever I was walking out of my street. Normal people do that! However, my reasoning gave way to my imagination and a scene emerged:

There I was tied to a chair in my birthday suit, my eyes darting to and fro searching for the source of the mad cackle. Ornella walks towards me, a knife in hand, smiling and telling me about the fact that she loved me from the moment she saw me in the pharmacy. My nice, pink lips called out to her and she knew that she needed to have me. She starts licking my face, her hands caressing my body as I whimper in disgust. She jumps back, enraged and begins wielding her knife like a warrior. She screams at me about just wanting to be loved by a man and she had foolishly thought that I was that man. But alas, I'm just like the other men; disgusted by her very touch, disgusted by her. The light bounces off the knife as Ornella brings it down once, twice, three times... AHHHH!

Given the little scene that had just played out in my head, I decided it was time to get off of Ornella's radar. I've resorted to changing my routine and leaving the house at different times. It's highly possible that my tactics may not work since, from what I've seen on T.V., stalkers are DEDICATED and RESOURCEFUL. I'm patiently awaiting the day that I come home to find Ornella sitting in my living room with my family at 6PM for our prayer meeting. Until that day comes, I'll settle for Ornella's stares from the hospital's dark corridors. Oh joy!

Until the next post!