Rocking in the fear world

@wwaycorrigan

[Listen to an audio version of this blog entry here.]

Earlier this month, the UK's Daily Telegraph reported that accidents at London Tube stations have increased because some passengers are too afraid to hold onto the escalator handrails.

This is apparently due to fear of picking up the Sars-CoV-2 virus, or coronavirus as many simply call it. For the record, intoxication was also cited as a factor.

Careful now, coronavirus & Big Brother are watching you.

We must assume that those in the former category had no other choice but to use public transport to get to where they were going.

Fear play
Moreover, if they are so frightened of coming into contact with coronavirus and thus potentially becoming ill with covid-19, it is perplexing how they managed to step outside and mix with the mad, morbid masses in the first instance. Think of all the dangers one encounters before entering the dungeon of disease that must be the London Tube.

Surely there are other, safer commute options? OK, I'm not au fait with the English capital, so perhaps it's not the case that the most efficient form of transport is by pushbike or on foot, as it is in many cities. 

Also, for health or other reasons cycling or walking what may be relatively long distances isn't an option for everybody (we're still waiting for these 15-minute cities).

That aside, congratulations are in order for the UK government, its public health body and malleable media. While they and their counterparts across the globe have got many things wrong during this pandemic — I've highlighted plenty of them previously — one can only applaud their remarkable success in instilling irrational fear about covid amongst the populace.

'No doubt there are many who hope I get my comeuppance for what they view as such an arrogant, indifferent stance.'

Judging by many people's reactions over the last 19 months or so, it's almost as if humanity had found the secret to immortality before our microscopic enemy from the East entered the global stage. Some seem so determined to avoid this virus that they'll actually harm themselves in other ways in the process.

There's no need here to once again repeat that covid-19 is a relatively mild infection for the majority — indeed, for some, it seems to cause no harm whatsoever — and that it is a very discriminate killer. One either knows this by now or simply refuses to accept the facts.

Fatal flaws
There are those who appear to want this to be an existential threat, one where we're all equally at risk. When one points out information to the contrary, he/she is accused of being heartless, of not caring enough, of wanting people to die.

I do find this odd as, in public pronouncements in any case, I usually do gravitate towards the worst-case scenario. I tend to see the problems more easily than the solutions. With covid, when I say, 'Look, all things considered, it's not that bad, it could be much worse', I get shouted down.

No doubt there are many who hope I get my comeuppance for what they view as such an arrogant, indifferent stance. I hasten to add, I'm not indifferent to those who have experienced loss due to covid.

All I'm trying to do is to put it into its proper context alongside all the other deadly threats we face as a species, something that I believe has been damagingly lacking throughout the pandemic. Overly focusing on one problem allows others to foment. Covid monomania can cause as much harm as the infection itself.

Perhaps I am setting myself up for a fatal fall. Wandering about unvaccinated (see The vaccine vexers for my thoughts on that), living my life as normal as I possibly can in these straitened times — save for any long-distance travelling of note — trying not to let fear of death affect my daily interactions.

Maybe coronavirus is just waiting for its moment to pounce on this blasé being. Maybe.

If it is, it is. The alternative is locking myself away indefinitely until it's "safe" to venture out again. I know if I did that, I wouldn't be long bidding adieu to this world.

I want to live life my way, as much as I can, not simply spend my days trying to avoid death.
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Cry me a perico: adiós to a Bogotá addiction

@wwaycorrigan

[Listen to an audio version of this blog entry here.]

Be it for good or for bad, nothing lasts forever.

So I shouldn't be too surprised that this day has come. In fact, in my soberer, self-critical moments I've realised that it could be a positive development for my overall health, despite the regular guilty pleasures it has given me.

Finding another "office" similar to Panadería Vicky will be difficult.

Pigheaded
Considering how the odd mini-break has failed to kick the habit, a more profound rupture is what's needed. For what is a practice I would have years ago thought virtually impossible to engage in quickly became a routine in this environment.

The pandemic made this arguably toxic love affair even more intense, more acute (I say 'arguably toxic' because some believe it's not inherently bad at all). The lack of steady work and thus a regular income plus the curtailments on movement meant I came to have a greater dependence on this relatively cheap daily fix as an out, as escapism from mundaneness — even if it in itself is mundane.

Yes, Colombia may have lifted travel restrictions months ago — in truth, bar a few strict weeks, they were never really a factor — but I've found it next to impossible to get out of my minimalist Bogotá barrio life and all associated with it.

It would have been nice to step away from this particular vice on my own terms but the reality is I simply haven't been able to. The withdrawal is being enforced. And I didn't see it coming.

To be more specific, those in charge of my beloved, family-run Panadería Vicky in Bogotá's Barrio Nueva Zelandia, what I affectionately refer to as my office, are packing up. It's where I am right now as I type these words, sipping on an exceptionally prepared 'perico súper oscuro', coffee with just a dash of milk, accompanied by a couple of freshly baked, delicious 'mogollas chicharronas'.

It's those latter treats — basically bun-shaped, pork scratching-filled bread — that have been the main cause of my angst, as I explained last year.

'Trying, often with little success, to explain to new employees on an almost daily basis how I like my coffee becomes tiring. This wasn't an issue at Panadería Vicky.'

You see, as much as I know I should eat fewer of them, it's become part of my routine to have at least four on a daily basis — in the stricter pandemic-lockdown days, I consumed up to six. (Although, if a study on the world's most nutritious foods referenced in this 2018 BBC article is to be believed, pork fat is actually quite nutritious — it's the yeast bread encasing it that's the issue.)

The very accommodating Leo and Alba, their son Michael and daughter Shareth Michelle, namely the family who have been running this panadería for the last eight years, expect no less. Even on the odd occasion when the chicharronas aren't available there's an acceptable substitute in a cheese bread or pastry.

Here today, gone tomorrow. Sad times in the far north of Bogotá.

Considering I like to think that my overall diet is healthy, this daily panadería indulgence has always rested somewhat uneasily on my mind.

Entering endgame
Now, with Panadería Vicky coming under a new administration I've been presented with a chance to ruffle up this routine — particularly so considering the place will shut for three weeks' refurbishment.

From my current abode, I pass four panaderías before I get to Vicky's  — in Colombia such establishments are ten-a-peso — but what has made this one my favourite, outside of the quality, reasonably priced fare on offer, has been the fact that it feels homely. A crucial factor in this is that it is family-run. Due to their constant presence and amiability, I've come to call Leo and the gang friends.

My experience of many other panaderías, Giovanni's in La Perseverancia excepted, is that the staff changes all too frequently. Trying, often with little success, to explain to new employees on an almost daily basis how I like my coffee becomes tiring. Inconsistency of service is something I won't tolerate for too long.

So while my frequenting of panaderías is not going to end completely — I do find them conducive to productivity in terms of reading and writing — the change at Vicky's does give me an opportunity to at least scale back my bread consumption. Yes, I could have started doing that of my own accord before this, but I kind of felt that I wasn't meeting my obligations if I didn't have my minimum bread serving at "the office".

On a broader scale, the back end of the year tends to be my, to borrow a sporting phrase, 'premiership quarter'. In Aussie Rules and lately used in Gaelic (Irish) football, it refers to the third quarter of a game when the decisive moments often occur that end up settling the match.

With a visa expiry date just a couple of months away, yet again I face that stay-or-go question. The smart money might be on closing out this long-running Colombian contest (with the caveat that late developments have changed what had seemed the inevitable outcome in the past. After all, it's more than just an empty phrase when I say Colombia is home. I've spent the majority of my adult life here).

Take whatever opportunities come one's way in the closing stages but mentally begin to prepare for the next challenge in another arena. Whether the score over these last ten years is in my favour or not is somewhat meaningless. What's done is done.

The game has to end at some stage. Nothing lasts forever.
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Listen to Wrong Way's Colombia Cast podcast here.

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"Essential" Colombian expressions to help you through the day

@wwaycorrigan

[Listen to an audio version of this blog entry here. Also see the accompanying video, available below, after the text.]

After almost ten years based in Bogotá, one might have thought that I'd be fluent in Spanish by now.

The fact is, I speak the dominant language here mostly in social settings, where conversations seldom turn into deep intellectual affairs. When I've had to use Spanish professionally, it's mostly been in a reading and writing capacity, thus I feel more comfortable using the language in those domains.

'Pa' las que sea', minus the more vulgar part you'll often hear Colombians say.

Nonetheless, and with that social, working-class element very much in mind, I've adopted a few Colombian expressions to help one through the day. Although some of them may get one into a spot of bother if used incorrectly or in the wrong context.

They are sayings that are quite removed from the polite Bogotá world of 'su merced' ('your mercy') when addressing people. Also, the likes of 'dar papaya', literally 'to give papaya fruit' and used when one exposes or has exposed oneself to a robbery or such like, I've explained umpteen times before.

Do note, years ago I published a piece on useful-to-know Colombian gestures, which you can check out here: https://wwcorrigan.blogspot.com/2013/04/more-than-words-colombias-useful-to.html. It's a handy accompaniment to this, the gestures doubling up as words as well, of course!

Ahí vamos
Perhaps my favourite of them all for the very simple fact that it has an Irish feel to it and sums up my life — and that of most people, I wager — adequately. Basically, it's similar to our use of 'grand' i.e. things aren't fantastic, but neither are they too terrible. The exact translation is 'there we go'.

'¿Cómo ha ido, Corrigan?'
'Ahí vamos.'
'No further questions, your honour.' (Except, in these parts, you generally get asked a salutatory question in a different form a multitude of times before the conversation moves on — if it moves on at all, that is.)

In the early days, I used to think it was 'hay vamos', with the Spanish pronunciation of 'hay' somewhat similar to 'ahí', especially when said rapidly. That makes no real sense, though, with 'hay' meaning 'there is/are' and 'vamos' as 'we go' or 'let's go'. It wasn't all down to my mishearing, however. Some locals do actually believe the expression is 'hay vamos'.

Marica
OK, this is far from exclusively Colombian and I did cover it in the gestures' article referenced above. It means gay/homosexual and can be used either jovially or, should the mood dictate, aggressively. Similar, it could be said, to how some British and Irish people use, to say it Cockney-accented so as to appear less offensive to some here, 'kaaaaant'.

The reason I've included it is because, in my beloved Barrio Santandercito, some people have a tendency to say 'gringo marica' when I tell a joke or make a snide remark.

This annoys me somewhat. As some of you will already know, I dislike being referred to as a gringo. Irlandés marica is fine. Gringo marica, no.

'Colombians appear to love gonorrhoea — not the actual sexually transmitted infection, blasting out the word that is.'

(Me) chupalante
This rather generic saying makes the list for the simple fact that it generated a great laugh when I was encouraged to say it in my local tienda.

'I suck' is the literal translation, as simple as that. Now is that a case of one sucking at something figuratively or actually sucking something? I guess it depends.

Pa' las que sea, gonorrea
How I understand this retort is, more or less, 'whatever (it is), gonorrhoea.' Colombians appear to love gonorrhoea — not the actual sexually transmitted infection, blasting out the word that is.

This particular saying is used in verbal defiance of somebody or something, as in, 'Bring it on, I'm more than ready.'

Péguelo, ñero
'Hit/stick it, knacker.' In my part of Ireland, knacker is probably the closest word to ñero, or ñera when referring to a female. "Officially", skanger is more accurate while in the UK it would be chav.

The expression is employed similarly to previously mentioned pa' las que sea, they seem to balance each other out.

Pirobo
When I asked my Colombian friends who use this what it means exactly, they couldn't really tell me, only to explain how it's used.

A Google search informs me that in Colombia it's another term for marica, but generally used pejoratively. From my observations, though, it's uttered similarly as well, i.e. mostly in a non-offensive manner.

Worthy mentions
Caremondá, careverga and hijueputa — the one-word version of hijo de puta, son of a bitch — are also common but certainly not unique to the Colombian capital.

Some Bogotanos, perhaps in a bid to get in touch with their costeño (people from the coast) side, use caremondá and careverga — both of which are similar to dickhead — almost in a mischievous manner. They're not "their" words, they're more the preserve of those less-refined coastal folk, so they feel like they're crossing a boundary saying them. Something like that.

Péguelo, ñero, indeed.
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Blast from the past: Making a scene in Sin tetas sí hay paraíso

@wwaycorrigan

A blast from the not-too-distant past this. I was reminded by a friend the other day of this scene (see video below) I had in Sin tetas sí hay paraíso, or Sin senos sí hay paraíso as the series is called outside Colombia (literally, 'Without breasts/tits there is no paradise'). If I recall correctly, it was filmed in 2017. 

An enjoyable afternoon, even if the pay wasn't fantastic. And it was challenging enough, a whole dialogue in Spanish with the two main actors. The pressure was on not to fluff my lines, which of course I didn't! Beats the mundane, standard extras work in any case.

The camera does add a few pounds, honestly.

The vaccine vexers

@wwaycorrigan

[Listen to an audio version of this blog entry here.]

'He dreamt that the whole world was condemned to a terrible new strange plague that had come to Europe from the depths of Asia ... Some new sorts of microbes were attacking the bodies of men, but these microbes were endowed with intelligence and will. Men attacked by them became at once mad and furious. But never had men considered themselves so intellectual and so completely in possession of the truth as these sufferers, never had they considered their decisions, their scientific conclusions, their moral convictions so infallible. Whole villages, whole towns and peoples went mad from the infection ... Each thought that he alone had the truth and was wretched looking at the others, beat himself on the breast, wept, and wrung his hands. They did not know how to judge and could not agree what to consider evil and what good; they did not know whom to blame, whom to justify.'

Thus dreamt Raskolnikov in Fyodor Dostoevsky's classic novel, Crime and Punishment. Published in 1866 and a dream in a work of fiction it may be, yet the passage could be used with some accuracy to describe human behaviour during this covid-19 pandemic.

Lifesaver. Or is it?

Pandemonium
Since the novel coronavirus arrived on the world stage, I've touched on pretty much all of the contentious issues. 

Namely, the collateral damage of wholesale lockdowns together with the certainty of those endorsing them that they actually work and are worth it, and the coercive mass vaccination drive that with each passing day leaves more questions than answers.

As the pandemic becomes endemic, it's that vaccine question that vexes the most. 

When I wrote The case against vaccine passports it was thought likely that getting a jab would mean one would carry less of a viral load if infected, thus helping to reduce contagion, while also becoming less ill. The latter appears to hold true for the elderly and vulnerable yet data are emerging showing that the former is not the case.

So, the vaccine pushers' argument that young, healthy individuals would be 'doing their bit for society' by being jabbed loses its weight. Basically, the vaccine may help to provide protection against severe covid-19 infection, particularly in the elderly, yet one is not protecting others by getting it.

However, judging by social media, many still seem to believe that in getting a jab they've helped save humanity. 

It's become common practice to publicly declare it, normally via updated profile pictures with colourful I-got-the-vaccine graphics. You'd swear they'd just discovered the cure for cancer.

These pietistic pronouncements are nauseating considering there is much we still don't know. They only serve to distance those with genuine questions that have yet to be satisfactorily answered. 

'One must be willing to change tack when new information dictates but even allowing for that our decision-makers have been suspiciously contradictory, within the myopic mindset that covid is practically the only mortal threat we face.'

Even worse is the palpable anger from some of those vaccinated directed at those who are not. It's baffling. You're protected, guys, so why the annoyance?

In fact, maybe all of us 'stupid folk' not pharmaceutically protected will die from covid soon, pruning humanity of much of its current asininity. You should be happy.

I must add, I'd rather see vaccines administered to those who would truly benefit from them, no matter where they are in the world, ahead of some young Sam or Samantha in a high-income country, with the finest medical care at their disposal.

The unaccountables
Just to be clear, I'm not anti-vax as a rule, despite being labelled thus by some people. I've had numerous inoculations throughout my life. It's simply that when it comes to the covid jab, I'm far from convinced of its benefits for somebody like me at this remove.

It also doesn't help that the leaders and public health officials now imploring, nay threatening us to get vaccinated have been anything but consistent throughout the pandemic.

OK, one must be willing to change tack when new information dictates but even allowing for that our decision-makers have been suspiciously contradictory, within the myopic mindset that covid is practically the only mortal threat we face.

That many have now lost any remaining trust they had had in them is not at all surprising.

This returns us nicely to that prescient passage in Crime and Punishment. Raskolnikov's dream concluded:

'The alarm bell was ringing all day long in the towns; men rushed together, but why they were summoned and who was summoning them no one knew ... Men met in groups, agreed on something, swore to keep together, but at once began on something quite different from what they had proposed. They accused one another, fought and killed each other ... The plague spread and moved further and further. Only a few men could be saved in the whole world. They were a pure chosen people, destined to found a new race and a new life, to renew and purify the earth, but no one had seen these men, no one had heard their words and their voices.'

For our 21st-Century, real-life pandemic, there were early hopes that we would come out of it cleaner and greener, renewed and purified, with more shared responsibility.

Alas, it looks like we'll only become more centrally controlled, less independent and with greater inequality.

In the same way that people both believe(d) and fear(ed) a god that we cannot see, Big Tech and its affiliates are now filling this  godless void.

Largely invisible, unaccountable masters, moulding the masses to fit into their utopia. Worryingly, most are marching merrily to the madness.
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Listen to Wrong Way's Colombia Cast podcast here.

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