Random Thoughts of A Garvin

Blogging from my head...

My head hurts... I can't focus... I have so much thoughts running through my head. I feel a little confused and I don't know how to stop the buzzing of my brain. "Why not write a blog about it?"- I thought. But, I couldn't! My blogs always have a theme; I write about things I see, hear, experience or learned. I can't tarnish my blog with random, unfiltered blogs that may hurt people's feelings or offend. Then again, it's my blog, an outlet for my creative juices when they start to flow and oh boy, they're flowing. God help us all!

I hate double standards, they irk me and I want to kill them all. Sometime ago, a friend of the family was visiting. We were talking and she started talking about her daughter, saying that she was a tomboy and sometimes she likes to dress up in big T-shirts, caps and boots. She laughed it off because it was "normal" behaviour for some girls. I started thinking about what she would have said if she had a son who was metro sexual or very flamboyant. Would she be disgusted? Try to beat it out of him? Or accept him? The sad thing is that this double standard exists whereby it's OK for a girl to act like a boy and be somewhat accepted by society. A boy, however, who is girlish or stylish or doesn't fit into the stereotypical idea of a male, has to endure ridicule, disgusting looks or being called all the gay related nicknames out there. I feel strongly about this because I have never been what you would consider the stereotypical boy and I was and continue to be ridiculed about it. I try not to take it on and exude overwhelming confidence but sometimes, it gets to you and it hurts. Why can't we be who were meant to be once, it's not harming anyone? It's this double standard that makes me want to seek a life for myself elsewhere, I feel as though I will never be understood in Trinidad where the narrow- mindedness runs wild. I'm just biding my time, waiting for that opportunity and then, I'm outta here. At least, my parents understand and were anticipating my departure from Trinidad ever since I was seven years old. Some may say I'm selfish and unpatriotic but, I doh really care nah!

One would think that I would understand deceitfulness. I have been around it all my life; from "friends" that have spread rumours about me to "friends" wanting to know my business so as to broadcast to the world but, I still don't get it. Why be deceitful? Is it that they like to lie to themselves and people around them or enjoy the thrills of playing mind games? Are they just bored, trying to find a way to enjoy themselves and f****** with people is the only way they find entertainment? Whatever it is, it's not nice making people trust you and then, backstabbing them. But, maybe I'm just too trusting, like to share and I always look for friends in the wrong places; I'm like a magnet attracting all the high voiced, deceitful people out there. Sigh! I need to surround myself with positive people and I've started but, change is a continuous process and I've been falling back into old habits and trusting 'old' people. Ah well...

Am I stupid? Does what I have to say seem so insignificant that you have to cut me off? Gosh! I can take criticism or direction; tell me you don't like this and you don't like that. I'll listen to you and try my best to comply with your vision while staying true to mine. Don't cut me off by waving your hands as though I was a mosquito buzzing in your ear and talk over me while I'm trying to explain my vision, my creative insight to you. I was hurt and felt as though what I had to say was of no importance. Sigh, maybe I shouldn't be so sensitive.

There's a new member to my life coach crew well, I would like to think so. He challenges me to think outside of the box and not just be an academic. I learn so much from him on a daily basis, I think of him like an older brother and someone to give me words of advice, helping me grow as an individual. At least, there's one, good, random thought!

WOW, what a depressing blog touched by hints of violence against supervisors and double standards! I suppose this is my dark place; between all the smiles and confidence, there's a dark side festering, waiting... Maybe, I should let it out more often and channel them into blogs. At least, I know that I'm not one note. Until next time- that is, if you come back after reading this!

Harry Potter 7, Part 2: The Good, The Bad and The Indifferent

"Harry Potter, The Boy Who Lived, come to die!", Lord Voldemort.

It was the end of an era on July 15th, 2011 as the final installment in the Harry Potter movie franchise premiered worldwide. As an original HP fan- I actually read, understood and re- read ALL the books when the movies were only an idea- I was VERY excited about seeing the final movie. For me, it was the end of an era and in some weird way it came full circle and I finished the journey with Harry, Ron and Hermione. Owing to the sentimental nature that this movie held for me, it was very infuriating to hear cell phones ringing, people steupsing or see people walking out the cinema saying that the movie was too long and real shit. Ugh! Those blasted bandwagonists who didn't appreciate what HP has meant and will continue to mean for many a HP fan. The movie lasted a little over two hours, was full of twists and turns and surprisingly, kept as close as possible to the book. I'm thinking of doing two or three blogs to share my thoughts about the movie because I cannot and would not condense all the information into one blog post; it's not fair to Harry. I intend to publish these blogs during the weekend so as to give the other fans a chance to watch the movie and enjoy the posts even more. Yay, I'm excited and I hope you are too. Until the next one!

Colombia: Things Learned

New Motto: Living and Learning

As some of you may know, I've been in Trinidad for over a month now after spending an amazing, life changing year in Bogotá, Colombia. I experienced SO MUCH which has impacted on my life and helped me to see and understand things differently. After reading a friend's blog (www.aysafaysa.blogspot.com) and flicking through some pictures of my friends and I in Colombia, I felt inspired to finally sit down and write this blog post since the idea had been floating around in my head for some time now. The idea concerned all the intangible things I learned during my year in Colombia and how I've started to and/ or intend to adopt them in my everyday life. Sharing is caring and self evaluation is a good thing so I figure that this blog post would kill two birds with one stone. Quite resourceful if you ask me!

1) Survival

Two weeks prior to my departure for Colombia, my Dad called me outside and asked if I could fry sausage with onions and prepare breakfast for myself. I knew that my Dad meant well but his question left me unsettled and worried about how I was going to survive for a year without my parents. My Mum had attempted to teach me how to cook but nothing seemed to stick. Thus, when I left for Colombia two weeks later, I had decided that I would have to survive by minimalist means until further notice. After the pelau debacle of 2010 where my friend and I made a pelau without bursting the pigeon peas, I can safely say that I can handle my stories in the kitchen, bachelor style. Don't get me wrong, I'm no Wolfgang Puck but, if you're into spaghetti, red beans, store- bought rotisserie chicken and juice; I'm your guy. On one or two occasions, I actually seasoned my own meat and grilled it. I can also do pretty rudimentary stuff in the kitchen so I'm not worried much anymore. Another version of learning to survive comes from the fact that I learned how to travel around a big city like Bogotá. Mind you, there were times when I ended up in another part of the city but that's nothing because I wholeheartedly believe that getting lost helps you to know what not to take the next time around. Plus, it's fun! I'm not as navigationally retarded as I was. Overall, I came back to Trinidad in one piece, ready to inculcate my new found survival skills into my life and possibly, pick up some more along the way.

2) Appreciation

I love my family and I appreciate everything they do for me. I let them know this everyday and I try to be a good son/ grandson and make them proud. There is something about being away from your family for a long period of time, in a foreign country living in the apartment of a budding dictator. For some reason, you start to yearn for what you had at home and begin to truly understand and appreciate EVERYTHING that your family has done for you. My parents and grandmother work really hard to send me to University full- time whilst providing for my basic necessities and beyond. I try my best to make them proud but I have been slacking off. I mean, I don't put an 100% into my university studies; I'm capable of straight A's and being at the First Class Honours level but due to laziness and complacency, I've been falling short of realizing my true potential. Thankfully, I've re- discovered my scholastic fervour, a new version perhaps but, a fervour nonetheless. My new goal is to graduate with First Class Honours and make my parents and grandmother EXTREMELY proud of me and know that their sacrifices were not in vain. Whenever I feel down-trodden and want to give up which, I will because UWI has a way of getting to you, I'll think about my family and all the sacrifices they are making and will continue to make for me. I'm not only appreciative of the sacrifices my family made but I'm also grateful for EVERYTHING that they taught me while growing up. I'm always commended on my manners, my "clean" appearance and my chivalrous demeanour; those traits that I learned from my family. THANK YOU!

3) Friendship

The friendships I formed during my time in Colombia are dear and near to my heart especially, the one that I formed with my fellow, Trinidadian language assistants, Claire and André. At first, I honestly never imagined that we would have become such good friends. It started of weird but over time I really grew to respect, love and trust them deeply. I could tell them ANYTHING and trust that I can get a word or two of advice, knowing that what we spoke about would remain among the three of us. I consider them my siblings and would do just about anything for them. Some of you reading this are probably thinking that I'm replacing you as friends and that is not my intention. This friendship has taught me a lot about what a friendship is supposed to be like. No back- stabbing, no bacchanal between members of the group of friends and no rancour. I've had friendships like those and quite frankly, I'm over it! I've started weeding out these "friends" or at least, letting them know that I'm no longer interested in having "frenemies". I feel as though I have the right to choose the people that I want to have around me, helping me to become a better person and vice versa. My new friendship has also taught me how to be a friend to my really good friends that I haven't been treating fairly and basically, ignoring. I've started to make contact with them and spend more time with them in an effort to show them that I do value their presence in my life. If we're meant to be friends, all will be well and if not, that's life; you win some, you lose some. So, thanks André and Claire for my epiphany. Love you guys!

4) National Appreciation

Being in Colombia, experiencing the culture and absorbing as much as I can has instilled in me an appreciation for Trinidad and Tobago and what it has to offer. I noticed that there are so many Places of Interest that I have NEVER visited in Trinidad and Tobago. I've never been to the Asa Wright Nature Centre nor the Caroni Swamp nor the Gasparee Caves. I mean, really? According to a friend, "Yuh conduct real poor!" Thus, I'm making it a goal to visit and see as much of my country as I possibly can and partake in cultural celebrations that doesn't revolve around Carnival and calypso tents but venture out of my comfort zone and explore like that 'ole nastiness' Dora. Anybody wanna come?

My year in Colombia has been a blessing in so many ways. Not only was I able to see another part of the world, experience a different culture and improve my Spanish but I was able to grow as an individual and make amazing, lifelong friends. Overall, I'm a work in progress and I'm looking forward to my personal development. So, let's see what this year has in store for me. I'm excited and hope you are too. Until the next post!

Charlotte Street, Port- of- Spain

Street Fact: Panties should be bought on Charlotte Street because they are the same panties that you can find in Wonderful World and are MUCH cheaper!


Charlotte Street is located in Port- of- Spain and resembles Chinatown where you can find bargains on just about everything. The street is frequented by many Trinidadians and is known throughout the country. Being born and raised in Sangre Grande, I've never really had a reason to venture to Charlotte Street because I don't really like going to Port- of- Spain unless I have to and I can usually get good bargains in Grande. Now that I am working, I've had to come to the capital more often and I've been feeling like Dora the Explorer; I want to see everything that Port- of- Spain has to offer so, whenever I get the opportunity, I explore. Well, an opportunity presented itself last week.

The date was Thursday 30th June, 2011, the time was 4:15PM and something smelled REALLY bad. A friend had called me earlier, told me that she was going to buy something on Charlotte Street and asked if I wanted to come because she knew that I wanted to explore Port- of- Spain. I jumped at the opportunity and hurried over to Charlotte Street. My first thought was, "This is different!" then, the stench came. It smelled liked rotten cabbage mingled with perspiration with a dash of that smell you get after rain falls on an already dirty with a hint of car exhaust. People were screaming at me, asking if I wanted to buy vegetables, fruits or both since they were of good quality and BIG. There was a lot of foot traffic which greatly annoyed me because people kept on bouncing me and 'steupsing' as though it was my fault. I didn't say anything because they looked as though they could cause me grievous, bodily harm with one look. Aside from fruit stalls, there were pavement stores where the owners peddled their high-end panties and brassieres with gusto, boldly stopping a woman, carrying a lot of bags and asking her if she was looking for a D-cup to hold her breasts. Uhm, really? I finally made it to the store on the corner of Charlotte and Prince Street, elated that I would escape the horror of life on Charlotte Street for a few minutes.

On entering the store, I realised that I hadn't escaped the horror. The store didn't have a name and looked as though they took a shipping container from the wharf and placed it in the middle of Charlotte Street. Clothes were hung in every nook and cranny while the customers perused the store looking for the best bargain. One customer grabbed my attention IMMEDIATELY; she was dressed in a short, yellow pant suit, yellow sandals, big, golden earrings, a jet black hair piece with golden ends to rival those worn by the drag queens on Ru Paul's Drag Race and to top it all off, a humongous, unrecognizable tattoo on her upper thigh. She seemed to be competing in Charlotte's Street Next Top Model: Season 3- The Ghettolicious, Cosquellicious Cycle. She was loud and kept on conversing with her friend who was in the dressing room, trying on a dress in an attempt to look, "F***ing HAWT!" as Ghetto Big Bird so subtly put it. I stood to the corner, trying not to make eye contact and draw Big Bird's attention towards me because I really wasn't in the mood and I was scared. I was snapped out of my reverie when Big Bird started cursing no, CUSSING! The conversation sort of went like this:

Big Bird: "Wha' the f*** boy? This fat c*** laughing at me inno! Ey! EY! EY! You doh kno' who is me inno, I go beat her fat mother's c***, yuh fat f***!"

All this time, she was sort of jumping on the spot like those boxers getting ready to fight and looking at the chubby, salesgirl in the corner who was wearing a look of amazement, incredulity and terror on her face. Sadly, Big Bird continued saying, "Ey AISHA, lewwe go nah, lewwe f***in' GO nah boy! This bitch lookin' for me beat she c*** and ah go do it inno! She doh know who the f*** she dealin' with. Only watchin' me and laughing like a c***." My heart started to beat faster because Big Bird looked as though she was about to throw a tantrum and beat everyone in the store while she pelted clothes hangers through the door. Thankfully, Aisha came out of the dressing room and said, "Who is tha' givin' yuh trouble gyul? Yuh wa' beat she or wha'? Jus' tell meh and ah dey with yuh!" Big Bird responds, "Nah, she eh worth my f***in' time. Lewwe GO!" Big Bird and Aisha stormed out the store, shaking their horse hair as though they couldn't believe what had just happened. I was confused and it wasn't until the store manager asked, "What just happened?" that I started laughing. I affirmed my earlier thought that life was indeed different on Charlotte Street because everyone just went back working as though what just happened was an everyday occurrence. I was relieved that this would be the last store that my friend was going to visit because I was scared and wanted to go home.

All in all, it was quite an interesting, eye opening experience to see how life is in another part of your country. When I updated my FB status saying that life was different on Charlotte Street, one friend told me that I should go to George Street. So, who knows? I just might end up on George Street and see enough to do another blog post. Until the next one!

Man's Best Friend

You can´t fight inspiration...

About five years ago, my family and I had a dog named Shaggy. He was a white pompec that was given to us by my aunt and uncle after their dog gave birth to a litter of pups. At first, my dad was totally against us having a dog given the fact that our pet iguana had vanished without a trace some years before. Eventually, Shaggy grew on him and he was loved by the family especially my Grandma and my brother. While it was nice having a puppy around licking between your toes and running around outside while I studied my ass off for CXC, I must admit that I firmly remained NOT a dog person. One morning, we noticed that Shaggy was missing and we went nuts trying to find him. Later that evening, Shaggy was brought to us in a cardboard box by the people that lived in the street behind us. Apparently, Shaggy had ended up in their yard and their dogs being the gangsters of "Dog World" had attacked him, ripped out his throat and killed him. On seeing Shaggy in the box, my Granny dissolved into tears vowing to NEVER own a dog again while my brother hit the guava tree several times screaming, "WHY?!?" to the heavens. My Dad decided to bury Shaggy in the cane patch in the backyard and when my then neighbour, Ms. Deceitful asked him what had happened, he answered, "Girl, the dog get away, went in somebody yard and they dog gash 'way he throat. Things bad when dog killing dog yes!" Throughout the tears, anger and explanations, I was laughing hysterically. I couldn't understand why everyone was reacting this way, I mean it was just a DOG; we could have bought another one! Pardon my insensitivity but I just didn't get it.

While I was in Bogotá, I reminisced about Shaggy after watching a movie entitled, "Marley and Me". The film stars Owen Wilson and Jennifer Aniston as newlyweds, John and Jenny who live in Miami. Jenny has always had her life mapped out and feels that the next step after marriage is parenthood. However, John doesn't feel that he has accomplished anything in life and wants to wait on the whole parenthood thing so he buys Jenny a dog, Marley to distract her from wanting children for the time being- only a MAN would come up with this idea. Marley is not an obedient dog; he likes to chew household items, swallow jewellery, chase pigeons, bark LOUDLY all night and frustrate his masters. For some reason, he continues to be a part of John and Jenny's lives because they care for him deeply and vice versa. Throughout the movie as John and Jenny develop as characters; starting a family, securing job promotions, going through postpartum depression, moving to Philadelphia and experiencing all the trials and tribulations that life threw their way, Marley was there. By the end of the movie, the family of five can be seen around Marley's grave, bidding him goodbye whilst my eyes welled- up with tears, moved by the emotion displayed on the screen.

I was confused; I am NOT a dog person but there I was on the verge of tears, feeling cold in an apartment in Bogotá. I realised that it wasn't about being a dog person; it was about having empathy and understanding why these people felt that way after losing a dog. You see, once a dog enters your life it loves you unconditionally and never judges. John said it the best at the end of the movie, "A dog judges others not by their color or creed or class but by who they are inside. A dog doesn't care if you are rich or poor, educated or illiterate, clever or dull. Give him your heart and he will give you his. It was really quite simple, and yet we humans, so much wiser and more sophisticated, have always had trouble figuring out what really counts and what does not. As I wrote that farewell column to Marley, I realized it was all right there in front of us, if only we opened our eyes. Sometimes it took a dog with bad breath, bad manners, and pure intentions to help us see." Furthermore, a dog becomes part of your family, is there through the good times and bad times and can teach you important lessons about life. According to John, "A person can learn a lot from a dog, even a loopy one like ours. Marley taught me about living each day with unbridled exuberance and joy, about seizing the moment and following your heart. He taught me to appreciate the simple things-- a walk in the woods, a fresh snowfall and a nap in a shaft of winter sunlight. And as he grew old and achy, he taught me about optimism in the face of adversity. Mostly, he taught me about friendship and selflessness and, above all else, unwavering loyalty". Overall, tears and other signs of loss are normal when a dog dies.

It's sad that I took SO long to realise this but some of us mature and have epiphanies later than others. I would like to 'blog- ficially' apologize for my insensitivity all those years ago. Although I didn't bond with Shaggy or cry when he died, I should not have laughed at those who were truly affected by his death. Thanks to Marley and his family for showing me that! Who says you can't learn anything from television?

Until the next post...

'Pon the Caribbean Coast: Cartagena

CARTAGENA BABY!

Cartagena de Indias, more commonly known as Cartagena is a large, Caribbean, beach resort city located to the north of the Caribben coast in Colombia. It is the capital city of the Bolivar department, a VERY popular tourist destination and the fifth largest city in Colombia. Cartagena was the third stop on our tour and in my opinion, the BEST town on the Caribbean coast. This is what happened!

For the second time that week, I found myself on a corner in Santa Marta at 3AM waiting for a bus. I was in a better mood that morning having slept more than four hours but that didn't stop me from sleeping on the way to Cartagena. I got up somewhere on the outskirts of Cartagena and the first thing I saw was the biggest mangrove on the face of the earth; it seemed to go on for miles and miles. As a matter of fact, I'm not even sure that it was a mangrove because it just looked like a huge river that had trees growing out of it- gosh, my third form Geography teacher would be proud. Surprisingly, there were people living on the dry parts of the mangrove/ river with trees in it. I could see smoke coming out of their small, wooden houses while their drying clothes billowed in the wind and their small boats sat moored in the brackish water. It was a truly humbling sight to see. There was so much more water, trees and mountains to see as we got closer to Cartagena and it was nice being able to experience more of God's creations and appreciate just how awesome he is.

El Castillo San Felipe de Barajas was the landmark that greeted us when we entered Cartagena. The magnificent castle was constructed by the Spaniards during colonial times and served as a fort. The castle sat atop a hill and looked simply marvellous with its colonial architecture and the Colombian flag perched on top, blowing in the Caribbean breeze. The bus parked at the bottom of the hill and the tour guide told us that we had ten minutes to "look around". I was kind of upset because I REALLY wanted an opportunity to climb up to the castle to see it's beauty up close and personal but alas, we were on a tour and the world does not revolve around me. Sadly, I had to settle for marvelling at its historical significance from afar. Two women could be seen setting up their stalls in the hopes of selling their souvenirs to tourists. By the time I found something that I wanted, bargained with the woman and purchased the souvenir at a reduced price, it was time to go. Once again, we had to wait for 300 who wanted to take photos of EVERYTHING. Now don't get me wrong, taking photos is all good and what not but within 300 there are ten family units, each with their own camera meaning that we had to wait for each unit to take about six pictures of the same thing; that's NOT annoying AT ALL! After what seemed like an eternity, 300 returned to the bus and we were on our way.

It was during this leg of the trip that I noticed that there was something wrong on the bus. Someone decided to use the toilet and when they opened the toilet door, the strangest, most disgusting, public bathroom scent greeted me. I was momentarily confused by the smell but more so by the fact that the drivers had NOT cleaned the bathroom the day before. Forty five people on a bus, most of them having used the toilet the day before during our DAY LONG trip to LG and they thought it wise to NOT clean the toilet that we were supposed to use for another DAY LONG trip. Like, really? According to my friend, "Some people logic just different!" Our next stop and possibly the COOLEST tourist destination in Cartagena was the actual place where the aristocracy lived and entertained during colonial times. From the outside, it looked both terrifying and somewhat regal with its towering walls meant to keep out the lower classes back in the day. My first thought when I entered was, "Doh shit me up!" Every building was so well preserved even after all that time, I felt like I had teleported back in time and as I looked around I could imagine the women walking around with their little fans, laughing haughtily while the men sat, smoking tobacco, figuring out the best way to take over the world. They had everything they needed; a church, a square with a statue, a nice garden area, shops, a look out and even, cannons in case of an early morning invasion from the French. We were also very lucky to witness the Good Friday procession that was happening in the square close to the church. Good times, good times!

Owing to the fact that I was immersed in culture all morning, I didn't realise that I was hungry until we arrived at the restaurant where we were going to have breakfast. Breakfast wasn't a grand affair this time around but it tasted great. Breakfast... check. Culture... check. It was beach time! The beach of choice was Bocagrande (Big Mouth), a fitting name since the beach seemed to go on for miles on either side. I had heard that the beaches in Cartagena were to die for but quite frankly, Bocagrande was normal and looked like any old beach in Mayaro. When I asked the tour guide why this was so he let me know that the nicest parts of Bocagrande were exclusive for the tourists that visited the area and were very expensive. I should have guessed, it happens all over the world. We rented a tent and almost immediately, this water baby was in the ocean; the water was warm and shallow while the waves were fantastic. The locals all looked like relatives or friends from Trinidad and for a few hours I felt like I was home although I was soaking up the sun on another continent. Overall, it was a good day in Cartagena and the inevitable started to sink in, we were going back to Bogotá the following day.

Later on that night, we decided to take advantage of our last night in Santa Marta and hit the town. The tour guide had organized a Champeta band (Google it!) to play for us on the beach and then, we would go to a club. At first, I was annoyed about going to the beach to hear the band play for reasons that are way too long to describe in this blog post. However, once they started playing and I got absorbed in the culture, I really started to enjoy the ambience so much so that I started to dance. The band played for about 30 minutes and then, it was time to go to the club. I had a feeling that one or two people in particular were going to annoy the hell out of me because: 1) they seemed like sloppy drunks and 2) they were "outta timing" with some of the things that they said when they were sober. Until they proved me right, I decided to enjoy myself because when was I going to a handsome, 21 year old language student in Santa Marta again? I danced, mingled, sang, drank, posed for pictures, took photos and flirted with a woman twice my age. Sadly, my premonition would soon come true as the bill came and we noticed that we had drank more than $100.000 pesos in drinks. My money was dwindling so I drank one beer for $2.500 pesos, which I gave to them to help pay the bill. My notion was to pay for what I consumed and that's exactly what I did. The others didn't agree with my notion and wanted to divide the bill between the eleven of us so as to find out how much everyone should pay. I let them know that I had had ONE beer, I didn't partake in the two bottles of Aguadiente (puncheon) nor the eleven Club Colombia beers nor the sparkling, bottled water so I had NO intention of paying for what I did not consume! I was even more annoyed by how they started to argue over the bill amongst themselves while the owner and workers at the bar looked on, pissed because they wanted to leave and had to endure, "Dawn of the Jackasses" (coming soon to a theatre near you). I felt embarrassed as well because I came there with those jackasses. I was fed up, sleepy and ready to go so I was relieved when they sorted out their business and were ready to leave like the drunken messes they were. However, one guy wasn't done annoying me, he decided that it was his place to walk next to me and tell me about my flaws as though he was Dr. Phil or something. Urgh, I was ready to explode but I didn't because he was drunk and it was partially his fault that he was acting like a nanny- hole. I walked off and went about my way, reaching the hostel wanting nothing more than to go to bed. Sigh!

All in all, 'twas an AMAZING day in Cartagena. Next- Santa Marta 2!

'Pon the Caribbean Coast: La Guajíra

Apparently, I can´t bounce back although I´m young!

La Guajíra is a Colombian department in itself and the northernmost coastal town on the Caribbean coast. The town is pretty close to Venezuela which fosters a lot of illegal trade in the region. La Guajíra was our second stop on the tour and boasts extensive plains which are inhabited by many an indigenous tribe; we actually had the opportunity to visit one tribe. So, this is what went down!

It was April 21st, 2011, the time was 3AM and I was on a corner in Santa Marta waiting for the bus to La Guajíra (LG). We were up so early because I suppose that the tour guide wanted us to have a full day in LG. His intentions were good but that didn't mean that I wanted to be up at that hour especially after the late night I had had the night before. The bus ride to LG was a blank given the fact that I slept throughout the four hour trip; I was tired! By the time I got up it was 7AM and we were in Riohacha, the capital of LG where we were supposed to have breakfast. I am by no means a morning person because when I get up in the morning, I can be both grumpy and irascible. My lack of morning "niceness" was further exacerbated since I was surrounded by morning people; you know, those cheerful, loud, irritating people that revel in the splendour of the hours between 6AM and 10AM. I just wanted to have my breakfast but first I had to listen to the owner as he told us what was on the menu. I wasn't all there mentally but I do remember him saying something about shark, arepas and cow kidneys. I didn't have the cow kidneys since I opted for shark, two arepas and a cup of passion fruit juice. The shark was good and had a nice, seasoned, Caribbean taste to it; I sucked on that shark meat as though it was my only anchor to life. Having been fed, I was more than ready to go and see what LG had to offer.

En route to our second stop, our tour guide told us a little bit about LG, most of which can be found in the introduction for this post. We passed a long stretch of ocean and it reminded me of The Coconut, that is, the stretch of coconut trees between Manzanilla and Mayaro. Probably the most interesting thing I saw was a totem pole- esque 'thingy' that depicted a lot of black people with arms outstretched, looking towards the heavens. When the bus stopped, I was a little confused about whether or not this was our destination; the streets were littered with all manner of things and it looked like downtown Port- of- Spain. The town was called Maicao and it's a big, commercial part of LG. There were streets upon streets upon streets lined with an assortment of shops and tents where the locals sold handicrafts, handbags, electronics and flowing, cotton dresses that looked like dusters but were all the rage in LG. Most of the time was passed walking through these streets, soaking up the LG experience and taking photos in the square. As mentioned before, LG is very close to Venezuela which has caused illegal trading between them. The closest I came to experiencing this phenomenon was the old man that kept appearing behind us, trying to sell us a bottle no, a megaton of whiskey at a very, VERY low price. The thought briefly entered my mind that maybe my Dad or Grandpa would really appreciate a bottle of whiskey. However, I decided against it because: 1) it felt wrong, 2) I wasn't sure how I would pass through immigration with an illegal, bottle of whiskey and 3) what if the drinking of that whiskey gave my Dad or Grandpa a serious case of diarrhoea? Maicao, I noticed, has a strong, Syrian presence and as usual, most of the stores were owned by them. I started to wonder whether or not they were a part of the illegal trading by reputation but then, let's not be stereotypical. I didn't really enjoy the time spent in Maicao so I was more than happy when we boarded the bus an hour and a half later and were on our way to our third stop.

While on the bus to our third destination, the tour guide let us know that we were going to visit one of LG's local, indigenous tribes and that we were expected to do a ceremonial dance that the members of the tribe would teach us or else, we would greatly offend them. Images of being sacrificed and served to the tribesmen in giant calabash bowls started going through my mind so I made up my mind to do whatever dance they wanted me to do. On our arrival at the compound, the tour guide left the bus, fully clothed only to return in some kind of tribal garment which looked like a high- end jockey shorts with a nice, colourful pom- pon adorning his backside. Once we were done laughing, the tour guide carried us to the entrance of the compound where we were expected to do a sort of ritual before we entered. Basically, we had to put our hands in the air and say some weird chant while drums played. Once we were inside, we were directed to a day house, that is, a shed where more than ten hammocks were rocking in the warm breeze. While we swung lazily in the hammocks, a member of the tribe told us a little about the Wayuu tribe. The Wayuu tribe is an Amerindian ethnic group whose people inhabit the LG Peninsular and northwestern Venezuela. They have their own language, their own religion and women play a very important role in the tribe. It was pretty awesome learning about the Wayuu tribe and it made me want to find out more about the indigenous that still exist in Trinidad and Tobago. After the lecture, we were surrounded by other members of the tribe who were selling their beautiful, hand- woven crafts. There were handbands that had either "Guajira", "Wayuu" or "Colombia" written on them in bright colours or nice, earth tones. Then, there were the bags that were hanging from the roofs of other sheds; they came in different shapes and sizes and were done in colours that really grabbed your attention. It was too bad that they cost a pretty penny and I couldn't afford one so I had to settle for my two handbands, both of which I'm wearing right now.

Suddenly, the rhythmic beating of drums could be heard throughout the compound signalling that it was time to dance. I was uber excited about learning and participating in my first tribal dance so I headed to the front of the crowd of spectators to take in as much as I couold. There were five girls of varying ages dressed in billowing, brightly coloured, cotton dresses with hoods and a boy dressed in the same high- end jockey shorts except his pom- pons were of a different colour. They all took their places and the dance commenced. The dance was called the 'Majayura' or 'ritual of the young, Wayuu virgin' and basically, the girls dance towards the guy for marriage until the guy tumbles to the ground. A simpler explanation: each girl would run towards the guy with arms outstretched, looking like large, day-time soucouyants while he tried to escape. The girls would quickly stick out their feet and try to trip the guy so that he tumbles. Woman again! The dance was interesting, hysterical and very entertaining, there is something about seeing someone fall down while wearing a jockey shorts that just makes you feel that way. It was the tourists' turn and for some reason, a lot of the men were nervous. The girls went around with a cute, tribal hat placing it on the head of a male who would then have to do the dance and pray to God that he doesn't fall. All the guys that went before me fell and I must admit that I was worried because the ground was REALLY dusty and this negro didn't want to get dirty. The girl put the hat on my head, the drums started and before I knew it, I was running backwards in a circle while this little girl tried to trip me. My God, it was invigorating and as usual, I started laughing like a mad-man, all the while paying attention to baby girl's dusty feet. Like a snake about to strike, she stuck out her foot and I stumbled a bit but didn't fall probably because I was too fat. Laughing at my good fortune, I went back in line and watched some of the girls try to trip the guy from the tribe; none were successful. Jus' sayin'!

Mr. Hunger decided to pay me a vist after a morning filled with activity so I was pretty relieved that our next and final stop would be the beach where we would have lunch. Nothing exciting happened on this leg of the trip except that the toilet had started to stink again which was pretty bad for those people that were sitting close to the toilet, that is, MY FRIENDS AND I. A lot of people had visited the beach that day and the 'lime' appeared to be going REAL good! Lunch was really good this time around, I would tell you what we ate but Granny always says that that's lack of manners. So... *shrugs shoulders* The rest of the day was spent walking along the beach and soaking it all in. 'Twas a good day in La Guajira!

Next stop- CARTAGENA :D