Transfer Window

If you were to ask your Average Joe, “When does the year begin?” he would would probably say “January 1st, duh.” But if that Average Joe happened to be a first-grader—or perhaps a first grade teacher—you might get a different answer. You see, certain people lead lives that follow a different calendar, for one reason or another. These folks tend to hit their reset buttons sometime in late August or September. Coincidentally, Virgos and soccer nuts also fall into this category. Can you see where this is going yet? I happen to be a student, a teacher, a Virgo AND a soccer nut, so right now I’m at the starting line after enjoying a great end of the year (summer).

"The Hue-Man Project" @ Betti Ono Gallery - Oakland, CA

Dakota's Engagement Party - Sebastopol, CA

The Fellas @ Caña - Oakland, CA

My life—and life in general—is so much like the game of soccer that it’s scary. It never ceases to amaze me just how many parallels I find between the Gentleman’s game* and the world I experience everyday. I could go on all day listing them, but today I want to talk about one: the transfer window. For the benefit of those who don’t follow European soccer, I will take a second  to explain this concept. While the landscape of European professional soccer often resembles the Wild West, there are actually one or two rules in place to maintain some order. Players’ contracts are often “bought” and “sold,” as teams throughout the world look to strengthen their squads or lighten their financial burdens.** BUT, these transactions are only allowed during two periods, known as transfer windows. The summer transfer window occurs during the off-season, and stretches until the end of August (after the second week of the new season). The second transfer window is in January, as teams look to make adjustments halfway through season. Basketball fans will recognize the similarity to the NBA trade deadline.

I am a supporter of Arsenal Football Club of North London, one of the biggest and baddest*** teams in the world. We are known for being extremely classy, on and off the pitch. We are also known for balling on a budget, in comparison to the handful of clubs owned by Oil Barons and Sugar Daddies. We are one of the few big clubs that actually fund our operations with revenues from football activities! Wow, what a concept!  Over the last few years, Arsenal has spent hundreds of millions of dollars LESS than those clubs, yet we are always “in the hunt”... kinda. We’re really good, we’re just not the best. Actually, we haven’t won a trophy in almost a decade. So, while I’ve been very proud of our approach, both on the field and in the boardroom, I’ve become more and more frustrated every year.

So, you can imagine my excitement a few months back when our club announced that it was sitting on a 70 million pound kitty, and was ready to spend big during the summer transfer window. Actually, that cash reserved has recently been estimated at 150 million dollars. Without going into Soccernomics 101, I'll just say it's is enough to buy a few world-class players, whose current valuations stand between 30 and 100 million pounds+ each. Like any self-respecting Gooner, I believe one or two signings could make us the team to beat.

I, like Arsenal, am standing at the starting line, waiting for the gun to go off, marking the beginning of a new season (school year). I recently relocated to Boston, and I have another week or so to get settled in before game time. Like Arsenal, I’m not poor, but I do know how to squeeze a nickel when necessary. To illustrate my point, I present to you my total moving expenses to date:

- Extra month of rent... yes I paid for July, even though wasn’t here. But my rent is so cheap that it was worth locking down the spot... $495

- Shipping stuff to myself (kitchen knives, spices, winter clothes, books, pandeiro, drumsticks, comforter, pillows, etc) - $110

- Flight from San Francisco to Boston - Free!****

- U-Haul cargo van rental - $67

- Full size mattress, box spring, metal frame, pillow top mattress cover, desk lamp, floor lamp, trash can, full length mirror, bookshelf... $Free.99... gotta love Craigslist.

- Desk and printer/scanner... $30

So, that brings me to a current total of $702. Clearly, that’s not pennies, but it’s pretty darn efficient for a cross-country relocation. So yes, I’m patting myself on the back. But here’s the problem. Remember that $150 million pile of cash? If I told you that I’ve spent more money personally during the transfer window than Arsenal Football Club, would you believe me? Well, I have. Despite various attempted power moves, the only new player to join our team is the French 20 year old,  Yaya Sanogo, who is talented, yet unproven—which is why we got him for the same price that I paid for my bed (see above).

In our defense, we have managed to get rid of several players that were surplus to requirements, so that we're no longer paying the wages of 5 or 6 players who contributed virtually nothing, nothing, or worse. We got a few bucks for some of those players, but others we just gave away. Again, there lies another parallel between my summer transfer window and our team's. I spent a whole lot of hours cleaning out closets and going through old boxes that have been in storage for years. I sold some decent stuff to a used clothing store (as Gervinho was sold to A.S. Roma), gave some nice stuff that I just didn't need to my cousin (Johan Djourou to Hamburger SV), and I donated the rest to charity (see Marouane Chamakh, Vito Mannone, André Santos, Andrey Arshavin and Sébastien Squillaci). Unfortunately, like Arsenal, I still left with at least one box of junk that I would pay someone to take of my hands (Niklas Bendtner).

I’m not gonna lie... I’m confused and I’m frustrated. I trust the folks calling the shots—manager Arséne Wenger has had a profound nfluence on my development as a coach and a gentleman. But my patience is wearing thin. The good news is that there are still two weeks to fix the situation. Kind of like when I checked my email last night and Harvard said I wouldn’t be able to register for classes because I was not compliant with Massachussetts State Immunization Requirements? Seriously!? Do you know how many times I’ve been stabbed with vaccine-filled needles in the last three or four years (thank you very much Peace Corps). If I can eat street food in Soweto, then I think my body can handle a year in Cambridge. I’m so immunized, when I stand in the rain, I don’t get sick, the rain gets Drew.*****

But, like I said, we’ve got time to sort out our issues. Hopefully I can hit the clinic on Monday for one final shot. And hopefully, Arsenal will convince one GREAT player to make the move to North London. Either way, we’ll find out soon enough. As I write this last sentence, it’s only 30 minutes to kick-off in our first game of the new year. Wish us luck!

Pura Vida,

Drew

* It is widely agreed upon that "football is a gentleman's game played by ruffians and rugby is a ruffian's game played by gentleman."

** These "transfer fees" are paid from one team to the other—these should not be confused with the  wages that players receive. The average player playing in the top flight of English soccer earns about 1.5 million pounds/year, or 29,000/week. The highest paid player, Wayne Rooney, earns 250,000 pounds... per WEEEEEEEEEK!

*** "Bad," as defined by Michael Jackson and Run-D.M.C.

**** George Clooney’s character in the movie Up In The Air  was partially inspired by my Dad, who will probably be voted into the United Airlines Hall of Fame on the first ballot. He hooked me up with some of those free miles—Obrigadão!

***** Adapted from one of the best Chuck Norris jokes of all time.

Loss For Words

Lately I’ve been feeling like maybe I’ve lost a step or two. The good news is that I'm now eligible to play in the Over 30 soccer leagues. The bad news is that lately, it's been feeling like the perfect league for me. I’m not quite ready for a mid-life crisis, but since returning to the states I’ve had a few moments that have made me want to start checking for gray hairs. Maybe the morbidity stems from the material on my bookshelf. The last two books I have read were both written by friends, while they were battling cancer. Last week I shared an excerpt from He Died All Day Long, a novel set during the Vietnam War. The author, Jon Wells, was the step father (“faux pa”) to one of my oldest and bestest friends. Sadly, Jon passed away last month, but he hung on long enough to hold a copy of his completed novel in his hand. I shared that piece of his novel because I thought it was an interesting angle on the feeling of “shipping out”—that feeling that I had a few years ago.

Yesterday morning I turned the last page of Lopsided: How Having Breast Cancer Can Be Really Distracting, written by my family friend and courageous surviving babysitter, Meredith Norton. Whenever I think of Meredith, I will think of a fun, slightly-crazy young adult, willing to go toe-to-toe with my oldest brother in any and all arguments. As far as I can recall, she was the only babysitter to lean over and unlock the car door in an offer of assistance when my brother threatened to hop out and ditch our family outing.

Meredith published her novel about five years back—and while I’m embarrassed to admit how long it took me to read it, I’m glad to say I finally did. Despite the subject matter, the book is never sad—in fact, it is pretty much hilarious. Like last week, I want to share a passage that reflects part of how I feel as my life transitions from one project/continent/chapter to the next. This time, the excerpt relates to my struggle to reintegrate into a totally different society and culture. 

"After months of communication deprivation in France I desperately wanted to join this dinner party conversation. I wanted to get the jokes and allusions, and make puns. So I let myself in, greeted everyone, and tried to say something worth hearing. But my brain, after twenty-four sleepless, exhausting hours traveling with a one-year-old, was incapable of anything better than 'It is being near twenty-one hour, is it not?' To which my father responded, 'Go to sleep. You're speaking English like a second language.'"

(p. 21)

Everyone’s knows about the different living standards and accommodations in the developing world. Those are the things that we expect to cause problems as we adjust from one life to another. However, the difference in shower temperatures or coffee-cup sizes has not been my biggest hurdle. From my observations, the biggest difference between people in the USA and people in Colombia or Cape Verde is not what we eat, wear, buy, or do. The single biggest difference is what we talk about when we’re talking about nothing. Small talk is a an art form that demands a tremendous cultural capacity and sensitivity, with the nuances of language ranging from stiffly formal to downright vulgar. The cultural context is also hard to grasp when you've been watching different channels and caring about completely different nonsense for the last few years. 

I’ve been pleased to find that I can still speak English with reasonable fluency, and I have yet to ask anyone to "guard" my coffee while I fish my keys out of my pocket.* Also, I’m doing my best to not start my sentences with, “Well, in Colombia...blahblahblahblah” That being said, I have to admit that my gift of gab has fallen off a bit. Reading that passage from Lopsided put my mind at ease a bit, secure in the knowledge that I am not the first re-integrator that has struggled to catch up with the conversation. Fortunately, you don't need to master the local language to have a good time or to be successful—just ask a Peace Corps Volunteer. For example, check out the signage at the Chinese food spot near UC Berkeley that's always doing good business.

Or better yet, ask young Tyler Hallinan. Hanging out with Bumbalo & Sarah's almost two-year old son last night made me recall a few lines from Pilgrim at Tinker Creek (Annie DIllard, 1974).

"There is a certain age at which a child looks at you in all earnestness and delivers a long, pleased speech in all the true inflections of spoken English, but with not one recognizable syllable. There is no way you can tell the child that if language had been a melody, he had mastered it and done well, but that since it was in fact a sense, he had botched it utterly."

Don't worry, lil buddy... I hear you loud and clear.

Pura Vida

*In spanish the verb "guardar" can translate to hold," "hold/hang onto." Consequently, many gringos can be heard using the slightly inappropriate reverse translation when trying to speak English. So, the next time a Returned Peace Corps Volunteer asks you to "guard" something for them, just smile and nod—I promise you, they are not completely paranoid about someone stealing or attacking their half-eaten poppyseed muffin.

NOTE: Meredith Norton passed away on August 2, 2013, less than two weeks after this post. Click here to read her obituary.

All Day Long

What to do all day long? If my life were a book, right now we’d be at one of those little excerpts at the beginning of a new chapter. A stanza from a Langston Hughes poem, or an esoteric quote. I’ve thought a lot—and have had to answer a lot of questions about—how I’m spending my time in Oakland before I relocate to Boston. Maybe I should take the advice of a character from the book I just started reading this morning:

"If I were you, I'd wake up every day at dawn to see the sun come up. Then I'd go back to bed. I'd screw a different woman every night and mean it when I told her I loved her. I'd read a mystery and stop halfway through so I'd have something to wonder about. I'd see how many grapes I could fit in my mouth. I'd drive a hundred miles an hour. I'd stay sober in the morning, drunk in the afternoon, high at night. I'd have Chinese food and tacos for dinner, spaghetti for breakfast and blueberry pie for lunch. Then I'd have anything I wanted in between, 'cause son"—here he took another hit, then looked at the ground, shaking his head—"pretty much all your choices are about to go away."

(p.  15)

He Died All Day Long

By Jon Wells

Unlike the other character who was actually on the receiving end of this advice, I am not headed to fight in the Vietnam War in nine days. It's not that serious. But I do feel like, for the next month, my "free time" is about as free as it's gonna be for a cool bit. I've gotten most of the admin tasks knocked out—apartment locked down, health insurance extended for a month, first tuition payment made today, etc. Every day's a little different, but they've been good. Full of books and full of family.

Pura Vida

Notes to Self

Let’s be honest. I’ve been putting off writing this post. I don’t completely want the closure that it brings. The last year that I spent living and working in Colombia was amazing for me, and I miss it like Everything but the Girl. In fact, there are one or two girls that I regret not stuffing in my suitcase and bringing home with me.

 In my last post I promised a two-part feature on the Senses and Memory. This week I offer part two, a retrospective in song paying tribute to the 10 tracks that will always carry me back to my second home.

The songs are not listed in any particular order, but the first group is made up of artists from Colombia, some new and some old. The second group are other songs that I listened to a ton and will always remind of my time spent in Colombia. Also, I decided to limit it to one song per artist/group, otherwise I would just have a long list of songs by Joe Arroyo and Silvestre Dangond.

COLOMBIAN ARTISTS

De Donde Vengo Yo - ChocQuibTown

The first time I heard this I was at a club called La Puerta in Santa Marta. It was a special night, and the sound of this song will always take me back.

Alza Los Pies - Colectro

I first saw Colectro play at Noche del Rio, during Carnaval in Barranquilla. I was pleasantly surprised to catch them again less than a week later playing at Berbetronik. It’s a great example of all the crazy and fun places that electro-cumbia music is going these days.

Yo Te Lo Dije - J. Balvín

The funny thing is that I don’t really like J. Balvín much. I’ve seen him perform live twice,  and both times I couldn’t quite grasp why all the women around me were losing their minds. Granted, I may not be his target audience, but the simple truth is that most of his catalogue is just not as good as this reggaeton gem.

El Columpio - El Afinaito

Unfortunately, this Champeta singer died at the young age of 36 less than a year before I arrived in Colombia. By the time I was leaving Barranquilla, this song had completely taken over as the unofficial summertime anthem of the country. This is a great sample of Champeta Urbana, one of the reigning types of dance music on the Caribbean coast.

Tu Loco - Martín Élias

Vallenato music gave me a new respect for the accordion—this up-tempo hit is modern Vallenato at its best.

Como Tu No Hay Dos - Buxxi

Buxxi helps put the small island of San Andrés on the musical map with his Soca-type club hit.

El Dilema - Silvestre Dangond & Juancho Espriella

This is the first Vallenato song that I can remember admitting to myself that I really liked.  Some of my first Aguila Lights and aguardiente tragos were downed while this was blasting in the background.

Viva el Amor - Kevin Florez

Another feel-good champeta track, with some of the most positive lyrics that you’ll ever hear in a popular dance song.

Otra Piedra En El Camino - Diomedes Diaz & Ivan Zuleta

A slower, more old-school vallenato song, representing the genre in its most romantic/corny/heart-wrenching form. 

En Barranquilla Me Quedo - Joe Arroyo

Nuff said. It’s amazing how little love Joe Arroyo gets outside of Colombia—he is salsa’s best kept secret!

Cielo de Tambores - Grupo Niche

Representing the Cali scene of Colombian salsa, this group is super-smooth. This is one of my favorites, a great song that walks the line between Salsa Romántica and Salsa Brava or Dura.

La Pantera Mambo - Orquesta La 33

Another gem that I heard for the first time while out dancing in Santa Marta. It’s always great to hear fresh “new” groups putting out top-notch salsa, this act hailing from Bogotá. You’ll definitely recognize the theme, and you’ll probably love the song before you finish hearing it for the first time.

OTHER ARTISTS

St. James Infirmary Blues - Traditional

I’ve liked this song for a while, but I had never had the chance to actually play it until this past year. While it wasn’t one of our staples, it was one of the funnest songs to play with Mango Jazz, and in my humble opinion, one of the ones that sounded the best. I’ll especially remember getting to play it one evening with Francisco joining us on clarinet, giving it a great New Orleans edge.

Tin Tin Deo - Dizzy Gillespie & Chano Pozo

This is one of the first Afro Latin songs that I learned to play on piano, probably back in seventh grade. My favorite version is an arrangement on a John Santos album that I scored at Jazz Camp about ten years back. Still, hearing this song will now remind me of Colombia, not elementary school or camping in the woods. I especially loved watching the melody get permanently stuck in our drummer, Camilo's, head after hearing it just once or twice.

La Llave - Cortijo y su Combo

I can’t really explain how this song became the unofficial anthem of Carnaval in Barranquilla. The song is 50 years old already, recorded by a Puerto Rican group. Regardless, it is one of the songs that you’ll probably hear there five times per day, no joda.

Las Tumbas - Ismael Rivera

This is another older Puerto Rican classic, and another one that I’ll associate with hanging out at Mazzino Pizzeria. On some nights when we weren’t playing there, we would just show up, plug a laptop into the speakers and enjoy some music on the patio. One particularly fine evening, I found myself crooning the opening lines to this tune along with Jaime as we both lost ourselves in the beauty of the sad melody.

Un Verano en Nueva York - El Gran Combo de Puerto Rico

Again, clearly not a song about Colombia. BUT, many a rug were cut over the past year with this one providing the motivation.

El Sonido Bestial - Richie Ray & Bobby Cruz

Before I got to Colombia, my favorite salsa song ever was “Pedro Nevaja” by Willie Colón and Rubén Blades. At my first house party in Barranquilla I heard El Sonido Bestial, and I had to change my mind pretty much on the spot. Partly because the song reworks the theme from Rachmaninoff’s Prelude in C Sharp Minor, one of my all-time favorite pieces of music. The real reason is because the song is just fierce... so if you can’t stand the heat then please stay off the dance floor!

I Know What I Know - Paul Simon

What!? I know, random right? Actually, it’s not all that surprising to find out how popular this song is after you listen to Champeta. The African musical traditions that Paul Simon mined to produce the Graceland album are the very same roots that provide the rhythmic foundation for the Champeta sound system movement.

Desnudate - Antonio Rosas

Double-entrendre, maybe? If you listen closely, Antonio Rosas is not literally telling you to take your clothes off. Still, the song is hot if you’re up for a little Salsa Romántica.

Mí Amor Lunatico - Giro Lopez

Another slightly curious staple of today’s radio rotation in Coastal Colombia. The song was recorded almost 20 years ago, but for some reason, it had it’s resurgence just in time for my arrival.

Cositas Que Haciamos - Farruko
Reggaeton is far from my favorite genre of music, but my time in Colombia helped me gain a new appreciation for it. This song sticks out because at one point I'm sure that no less than 75% of the population had this programmed in as the ringtone for their phone.

No Molestar - Michel El Buenon

Another late-night salsa party hit... “El amor se hizo para dos!”

El Faisan - Johnny Pacheco

This is the kind of goodie that would bang out of our speakers as we cleaned the house from top to bottom on a lazy hot sunday.

La Cartera - Orchestra Harlow

I can’t explain exactly what I love so much about this simple salsa classic. But I don’t have to explain myself—just give it a listen. It goes well with 1:30 AM and a willing dance partner.

So now I face the challenge of re-entry. Reintegration. Reorientation. Re-imagination. The good thing is, there are a few things that I can hold onto to keep my feet on the ground and my head on my shoulders. Music has always been one of those things, which I why I spent my very first week back in the States at Jazz Camp West. In fact, my week at camp was one of the last things I did in America before shipping out for Cape Verde in 2011. So, after reuniting with my keyboard after two years, I headed to the mountains for a week in my happy place.  The adjustment is a still a work in progress, but I'm doing OK :)

Pura Vida,

Drew

Parting is Such Sweet & Sour

Memory is a funny thing. Everybody’s works a little differently. Some people have those famous photographic memories, where recollections from past experiences are stored in images, like a big mental photo album. Other times, a smell or scent can be the trigger. For example, every now and then I catch a whiff of something that transports me right back to nap time in pre-school. I know, it’s a little weird, and I can’t explain it, but I’m absolutely sure that whatever I’m smelling is something that used to be served up in the kitchen at Lakeshore Children’s Center. Unfortunately, after more than two decades of trying, I still haven’t pinned down exactly what that smell is.

Many of my memories are actually linked to music—I tend to associate most songs with some time or place or experience. It could be the first time I heard a song, or the first time I actually listened to it. As I enter my final week of living and working in Colombia, I’m proud to say that this country has provided me with hundreds of memories, and thousands of songs to remember them by. 

With that in mind, this post is the first in a two-part series about Memory and the Senses. The next post will be dedicated to audio, but before I get into that, I want to write about my other favorite sense—taste.

Over the past few years I’ve posted a few “fine” dining guides based on my experiences around the world. So, now that I’m getting set to depart from Colombia, it's time for me to look back on all the mouthwatering experiences that will keep this country near to my heart and belly. In no good order, here goes...

The Taste of Goodbye - Flavors of the Colombian Coast

Restaurante El Country - Let’s start with the basics. A working man in Colombia needs to know his way around the comida corriente* scene. These almuerzos ejecutivos are inappropriately named, as there is nothing “executive” about them—more like middle management, at best. The good news is that even on a Peace Corps budget, I can afford to eat out for lunch everyday, as long as I stick to corrientes. My favorite quick lunch spot in Barranquilla is Restaurante El Country. A simple sancocho, followed by pollo asado with rice, lentils, tajadas, and a metal glass filled to the brim with agua de panela. YUM!

Donde Angie - Technically, this restaurant is called Donde Angelica, or something like that, but that hardly matters. Just remember, when you’re on the main road entering Campo de la Cruz, pull over on your left just before the church and order lunch (they’re not open for dinner). Donde Angie is actually the best corriente spot I’ve come across, but since it’s an over an hour from my house, they have to share the honors with Restaurante El Country. The tastiest sancocho comes included with any of the almuerzos**, which are all well-seasoned and divinely-priced at 5,000 COP. WOO-HAH!

Patacón Relleno - Patacón, derived from platanos, takes many forms here in Colombia. My favorite style is smashed and fried and stuffed with miscellaneous goodness. The best patacón relleno that I’ve come across is at the food cart across the street from Uni-Norte. HANDLE IT!

Arepas & Arepas - Like patacón, there must be a dozen different food items that people call an "arepa." At the risk of pisisng off a whole bunch of Colombians, I have to admit that I find that vast majority of products in this food group to be mildly overrated. The major exception is the stuffed, hotpocket-esqe wonders at Arepas y Arepas in the Alto Prado neighborhood of Barranquilla. At about the size of a decent hamburger, 6,000 is truly a player's price. AND ONE!

Deli Hassan - I don’t hang out on the north (expensive) side of the city that much, but when I do end up near Calle 84 on a Saturday evening, I like to wrap up the night with a trip to this outdoor culinary gem. In Colombia “chuzo” can mean two different things—one good and one bad. The “bad” kind (in my humble opinion) is known as “desgranado,” and looks like a hot mess of horribleness (see pic below on left). The good kind (see pic below on right) is what you might recognize as a good old fashioned shish kebab. Deli Hassan serves up a mean chuzo en palito, and they’re still open when the club closes. HI-YO!

Empanadas - These things are more common in coastal Colombia than plastic chairs, and that is saying a lot! Unfortunately, most of the empanadas here are fried instead of baked. Luckily, I found a placed that bakes them—a little hole-in-the-wall located on Calle 76 at Carrera 38 in Barranquilla. GETITBUDDY!

Brasas Caleñas - A few months ago, a new eat-spot opened up around the corner from my house. Late one night I stopped by to see what I could line up for a quick and cheap fourth meal. What a find! Two pieces of “broasted” (fried) chicken with french fries—for 5,000 COP*... BOOM!

Cafe Bonzai - You don’t know what you’ve got till it’s gone, and sandwiches are something that we take for granted in the U.S. I’ve come across two excellent sandwich spots in Colombia. Unfortunately, neither one is in Barranquilla, where I live. Cafe Bonzai, just off the beach in Taganga, serves up some high quality, creative sammies on the best bread I’ve tasted in-country. SMACKTHAT!

Crepes & Waffles - You may have notices that vegetables haven’t figured much into the equation so far. As a transplant to the Colombian coast, I sometimes get a bone-deep craving for something green. My favorite place to scratch that itch is a the scrumptious salad bar that makes Crepes & Waffles the savior of so many vitamin-deprived Peace Corps Volunteers. TOUCHE!

La Placita - Thanks Dana and Allison for showing me the wonders of La Placita, located just off the Parque de los Novios en Santa Marta. UFFF!

Mazzino - There’s a whole lot of pizza in Colombia, but most of it is mediocre. Fortunately, there’s two spots in BQ that come through every time. The first restaurant, Mazzino Pizzeria, has seen plenty of love in this blog, because we play music there on Saturday nights. What I didn’t mentioned is that they offer tasty stone-oven artisan pizzas. My favorite? The simple tomate y albahaca. MUAH!

20 de Julio - This panaderia/pizzeria is a great late-night option. Real deal pizza by the slice at 2,5000 COP per portion. Also, this is one of the few spots that understand the importance of crushed red pepper flakes. BOOMSHAKALAKA!

Sushi+ - After some debate, I can confirm that this spot is actually called “Sushi Mas.” To be honest, as I write this, most of the blood in my body has been diverted to my gut in an effort to digest the maki I just treated myself to for lunch. I opted for the spicy tuna roll and the Emperador Roll, which is salmon and queso crema on the inside, unagi and durazno on the outside. ICECREAMPAINTJOB!

La Terraza Del Dragon - When I lived in Cape Verde, my house was just a few short blocks from the Chinese Restaurant (honestly, I think it was actually called “Chinese Restaurant”). This lead to my near downfall, in the form of a few dozen dumplings consumed per week. Well, La Terraza Del Dragon is not close enough, cheap enough, or good enough to eat there multiple times per week, but it is by far the best option for Chinese food that I’ve come across in the country. The title of this post was inspired by the pollo agridulce that I fall back on about once a month. I knew I had stumbled upon authenticity when an actual Chinese-looking person handed me an actual paper menu. YAHTZEE!

Agave Azul - While we’re on the topic of Santa Marta, I have to give some love to this spot—by far the finest Mexican food that I know of in Colombia. In a country where avocados are practically a dime a dozen, you’d think that good Mexican food would be easy to find—alas, it has proved to be elusive. Thank you Agave Azul for making the Colombian coast taste a little bit more like California. ORALE!

Babaganoush - My final selection is this recently-discovered restaurant in Taganga, billing itself as a “cocina internacional.”**** They live up to the name, with offerings that run the gamut of deliciousness, from the Mediterranean and beyond. I can personally vouch for the hummus, falafel, tom kai gai, and beef carpaccio. Not bad for the toughest job you’ll ever love, right? DON’T HATE!

Donde George y Suzy - OK, so this is not a restaurant, but the finest Italian food in the country comes straight out of the kitchen of our Country Director, George Baldino. You can take the boy out of Brooklyn/Napoli, but you can’t take the marinara sauce out of the boy! SALUTTI!

Patillazo - Two words: watermelon, juice. How did we not think of this before?! At least once a week I stop on the street to fill my cup, and the hotter it is in Barranquilla, the better this drink tastes. Recipe: Mix 1 part watermelon chunks & juice, 1 part hunks of ice. Let ice melt. Add sugar to taste. As far as I know, this is only beverage I know that you can eat and drink at the same time. In the spirit of the Peace Corps’ “Third Goal,” please believe I’ll be whipping up a batch of this at our family’s 4th of July BBQ this summer. YESSIR!

El Bistro - Rounding out the beverage category, we have the eye-opening (and sinus-opening) mojitos de gengibre found in this posh corner of Santa Marta. 2x1 Happy Hour only makes a good thing better. CHEERS!

Sparkies - Last but not least, all praises due to the best Colombian candy. Endemic to this beautiful country, these chewy treats should not be overlooked as a poor-man’s Skittles, although that doesn’t sound half bad. Available in several flavors, in different sized bags to fit the up-and-down budget of a Peace Corps Volunteer, I believe that Sparkies should be included in our government issue Med Kits. HOOAH!

My House - Many of you reading this may have gotten the wrong impression from reading this post. Honestly, my life here is not all peaches and cream and creme bruleé. The truth is, the backbone of my diet has been the consistently delicious home-cooked meals that Chavela serves up every evening. Even when I do eat out, I can count on my host-mama to guardarme my fair share for when I get home. Whether I eat it when it’s hot, or as a midnight snack, or the next day for lunch, it always hits the spot. We came to an understanding very early on in my stay about higado, riñones, ojos de vaca and all the other viscera that I have a hard time swallowing. Since then, it’s been smooth sailing on the culinary front, and for that, I am eternally grateful. Thank you Chavy!!! 

It’s amazing how much food you can eat in a year, even when you’re balling on a budget. Thankfully, my taste buds will help me look back on my time spent in Colombia with the fondest of memories.

Pura Vida,

Drew

*comida corriente - very loosely translated as "short-order" or "quick" lunch.

**almuerzo - lunch

***1 USD equals about 1,850 COP, depending on when you're reading this.

****cocina internacional - international kitchen

Buscando La Cueva

Like so many things in Colombia, I had never heard of La Cueva until after I got here. Last October I was blessed with a visit from my dad and stepmama. As I waited for them in the lobby of their hotel, I started flipping through a massive coffee table book to kill the time. It caught my attention because I recognized a younger-looking Gabriel García Márquez on the cover. I’ve been a fan of the Colombian Nobel Laureate since I came across a copy of The General in his Labryinth many years ago. Sometime after that, I struggled through One Hundred Years of Solitude—a true labor of love. Since then I've read just about every Gabo work of fiction I could get my hands on, but Love in the Time of Cholera and Of Love And Other Demons stand out as two of the most beautiful books I’ve ever read.

Márquez is intriguing for so many reasons—his role in establishing/popularizing the literary style known as realismo magico... his politics... his journalism... his reputation. More than most authors, the idea of Márquez has always seemed to loom at least as large as the body of his work. For someone who’s devoured most of that work, I still find myself feeling like there’s so much about him that I just don’t know. 

Sitting in that hotel lobby last October, I stumbled upon some real cultural context. Like I said, I had never heard of La Cueva or el Grupo de Barranquilla, the group of writers, journalists and thinkers that would do so much to shape the literary culture and reputation of Colombia. My curiosity was more than piqued, and I immediately started making plans to visit La Cueva, the local restaurant/bar that served as the group’s watering hole during the 1950’s.

But, lo que había pasado fue... la cosa es que... well, I spent the next six or seven months almost making it to La Cueva. First it was Noviciembre*... then Carnaval... then my friends flaked on me once or twice. There was always some reason not to go... “so-and-so says it’s really expensive and the food’s not that good.” 

Anyway, it finally got to the point where I had to draw a line in the sand. I felt like Jerry Maguire... “I am GOING to La Cueva this weekend... who’s coming with me?!” I was fully prepared to make a solo trip if it came to that. Thankfully, Tom and Yubi had my back, so a few weeks ago I finally got what I wanted.

With all the hype, I was a little prepared for disappointment. I was NOT disappointed. The music was badass... no stage, just a dozen musicians tucked/crammed in the corner of the restaurant, letting loose some raw, unadulterated salsa brava. The ambiance was also on point—sure, the restaurant has gotten a little classier than the days of El Grupo de Barranquilla. Fortunately, they’ve managed to clean up their act without losing their roots. The walls are lined with chock-full bookshelves and life-sized photos, showing a who’s-who of the Barranquillero literary scene—I admit, I didn’t recognize most of them, but I’m pretty sure that’s who they were. My favorite photo shows one man sleeping (passed out) on the bar, while his “friend” attempts to balance a shot glass on top of his head. Like I said—classy, yet down to earth.

At the time of writing this article, I’m about halfway through a work of non-fiction that provides a different perspective on the early influences on Márquez. In García Márquez en Cartagena: Sus inicios literarios, author Jorge García Usta makes the case that the two years spent in Cartagena (1948-50) were equally influential on the Nobel Laureate’s literary voice. It’s an interesting book, but not quite as intriguing as the idea or the experience of a visit to La Cueva. Plus, I’m a ‘killa boy, so I’m biased.

But what’s most importantly, La Cueva is NOT really expensive. Sure, it’s not an everyday outing for a Peace Corps Volunteer, but the beers are three or four mil, the cocktails, at less than ten, are excellent, and the menu is reasonable. In other words: “GET THERE.” If you’re like me, then you wish that Barranquilla had a few more venues featuring live music. Fortunately, La Cueva lives up to the hype—something that so few places seem to do these days. So, next time you’re looking for a quality outing on a Saturday night in BQ, grab a friend or two and call it a cultural outing. You won’t be disappointed.

Pura Vida, 

Drew

*Noviciembre is the hazy November/December period leading up to Christmas and New Year's when not a whole lot of anything gets done in Colombia.