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Published: November 26th 2008
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Josh celebrating his/our life.
I felt like I was in a beer commercial. Unfortunately we had no ladies with us so it was more Schmitt's Gay than Corona. I’m not exactly sure what being intimate with someone who has children has to do with precipitation but in the parlance of our time it’s raining like a mother f*&%#@ here. Something to do with being caught in some late hurricane business. Good news though, they cancelled an after school meeting to accommodate driving home earlier in the mad watered roadways. Two weeks ago Adam, Josh and I went to an island in the Caribbean off the coast of Cartegena and slept in hammocks in a little place named Paradise and ran by a woman who rocked the handle Mama Ruth. Price including chairs on the beach under a shaded lean-to and hammocks for the night: $2.60. We were so close to the water that we were told to put our belongings in a chair in case the tide came up under our hammocks during the night. It was the first time I’ve snorkeled and enjoyed it, very peaceful on a little stretch of crystal watered beach all to ourselves for the most part. It’s a very touristy beach at one end, and at the other end you’ll find Paradise under the watchful eye of Mama Ruth. As we sat on
the beach Josh and I both got extremely burned by the devil sun, where as Adam’s beautiful mocha skin protected him from the devil rays. This earned our angry jealousy and Adam the nickname Brown Noise.
Most people take the boat back to Cartegena (like 2 hours) at four in the afternoon leaving the beach completely to the overnighters which is fantastic. However, sometimes you miss the morning boat back leaving you in grave danger of being trapped in Paradise and consequently leave the English Dept. three teachers shy of a full gaggle of gringos. The other option home is a masterpiece of sketchiness consisting of jumping on three mototaxis who speed you helmetless through a swampy mess which is a road by the loosest of definitions. Just when you are grateful that you are on a bike and don’t have to walk through the worst parts of this stagnant bog you have to do exactly that as the man you’ve got comfortably straddled requests you dismount and stroll though the shin deep mud so as to lighten the motorcycle’s load making the quagmire manageable by bike. After slogging through several such experiences my driver noticed that his back
Lepage's Wood Gatherer
Ah the burden of age and the frivolity and joy of youth. tire was a little flat and becoming more so rapidly. We gathered some of the greatest minds of our time and determined that if you are doubled up on a tiny motorcycle in slippery conditions with a flat tire the best course of action would be to stop getting off at the difficult areas, stop slowly navigating the giant bottomless lagoons and hit ludicrous speed. In order to take pressure off the flattening back tire he had me cuddle up against him and if I dared slide slightly back I was gruffly told “mas pegado” or “more stuck to me.” Like the smaller guy in a jail cell, I meekly did as I was told. Needless to say I was by considerable margin the first of our triumvirate to arrive which afforded me time to stand around with a large group of steely eyed locals. I felt like Jim Carrey in Dumb and Dumber. “Big Gulps eh? Well… See ya later.” Upon arrival of my muddied better two thirds the locals discussed how much they could fleece three crackers who were very far from home with no other means of transport. Having been traded for a pack of a cigarettes to another cellmate with a taste for gringos we continued on and were dropped off at the water’s edge where we encountered man with a “boat” that begged reexamination of its seaworthiness. He used a long stick in Venetian fashion to push us across a waterway to another bustling metropolis where we were quickly accosted by beggars who had learned the lessons of freshman health class; no means yes, be more aggressive. We paid a little girl to lead us to the place where the occasional bus passes headed back to Cartegena but sadly didn’t endure the wait due to the beggars increasingly belief they were white and we were rice. We took a taxi to the bus station, hit the ATM like good westerners, bought peanut m&m’s and other amenities and mounted our 5 hour bus ride home. Just a quick eight hours after leaving Paradise we arrived home and tried to wash the smell of poverty off. It was great actually, proving that getting there is often more than half the fun, I would suggest it to anyone with a sense of adventure and an underdeveloped sense of self preservation. We are considering a return trip (but not missing the boat) in two weeks. Thanksgiving plans: friends, turkey and pumpkin pie (courtesy of Aunt Becky). We’ll probably have some wine as well and while Americans are not shopping as much as the merchants would care to scaring the market into diving again we’ll be teaching with a little
tufo, the colloquial term meaning booze breath.
Things I’m thankful for this year:
1. My maid Luz
2. Speaking native English being a marketable skill
3. Upcoming visitors, we need an influx
4. Downloadable movies, comic books, music
5. Hope springing eternal concerning sports teams
6. People all over the world wishing they were American for the first time in a while, if only for a day.
With my 24th birthday coming up I expect to be showered with gifts per normal, I’d like a new mp3 player, a new external hard drive,* and a pony. I’ll settle for quickly written emails or general apathy as that’s normally what I offer up to others. I have no plans for Christmas break of yet, I may get lasik surgery, I’m almost certain to remove the sources of my great wisdom, those back four molars. I taught my students some idioms and if one more of them tells me “hold your horses mister” I’m going to start punching necks. Something that was awesome back in the day: three way phone calls. The cell company that makes this possible first will win the day and my heart.
November Music: Citizen Cope and Cee-Lo Green. Neither very new, both very excellent.
November Book: Obama’s ‘Dreams from My Father.’ I think we sometimes forget how much of not just the world, but of the US doesn’t really have hope of a better life. It reads a little bit like Malcolm X’s autobiography, not for the extremism but for the steps of discovery that got him to his destination.
November Movie: The only one I’ve seen was the new Bond which was not so great but amusing if only because I got to be the guy in the theater threatening the group of young noisy back row rapscallions of which I was once a part.
November Rain: The longest song (8:47) to ever crack the Top Ten. Oh, and awesome.
Laughing at how angry Adam gets at technology,
~Tyrone ‘Turkey Bone’ Biggums
Be curious, not judgmental. ~ Walt Whitman. My birthday always has me breaking out Leaves of Grass. This I find funny since this blog seems pretty judgmental at times but as the Uncle Walt continues…
Do I contradict myself? Very well, then I contradict myself, I am large, I contain multitudes. ~ Walt Whitman
Democracy is a device that ensures we shall be governed no better than we deserve. ~ George Bernard Shaw.
Competence, like truth, beauty and contact lenses, is in the eye of the beholder. ~ Laurence J. Peter. I guess this explains the percentage of the population holding to the notion that G.W.’s done a bang up job.
*I promise to keep this one out of the reach of children and hammer bearing Colombian girlfriends, especially on my birthday which is apparently an especially infuriating time for some.
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stephie g
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Oh Joel... you're a gem. You're the youngest and oldest 24 year old I know.