The barrio banker

@wwaycorrigan

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

Strange as this may seem considering my current less-than-robust financial situation and lack of a steady income, but I have become the chief moneylender for one barrio friend over the last number of years.

Easy money — when it comes from the Wrong Way Bank, that is.

It breaks with a long-standing rule of mine to not give money to anyone here. 

Previous experience has taught me that while some may ask for a dig-out using the verb 'prestar', literally 'lend', what they usually have in mind is the more common Colombian word when looking for something: 'regalar', 'gift'. (I recall asking for a drink in the Spanish capital Madrid using 'regálame'. The barman's retort was that they didn't 'gift things' in that establishment.)

'I'm good for it'

Of course, it's just an expression. Few if any people who utter it on a daily basis here actually expect to get what they want for free. Rather wishful thinking if they do. 

It could be argued, however, that when addressing a native of a high-income country, the more literal meaning is very much in mind for some locals. 'These rich foreigners can easily afford to give things away.'

Whatever the case, actions speak louder than words. So whether my now regular client uses 'prestar' or 'regalar' when he comes looking for a loan matters little, it's his ability to pay back that counts.

Barrio banking: Money's too tight to mention.

The first time I agreed to lend him a relatively substantial sum of money, my thinking was that it would double up as a way to test the strength of the friendship. If he defaulted, well I'd have to take the hit but be somewhat comforted by the fact that I'd unmasked a false friend.

Not only did he not default but he paid back the amount in full ahead of the stated due date. Punctuality is a rarity in Colombia in all walks of life, never mind doing something ahead of schedule. I was both relieved and impressed.

So the next time he asked for financial assistance I was more relaxed when handing over the cash. And yes, these are real cash transactions — notes still dominate here for the masses, something I'm not at all averse to.

Now,  considering I've known him since 2016 and for at least the last four years I've rated him as a trustworthy friend, I view this money-lending akin to helping out family.

One must be very selective in this regard, even if those who seek handouts aren't in anyways shy in doing so. In fact, it never ceases to amaze me how people I barely know appear to have no reservations about asking for money.

'I'd soon be relieved of my money-lending duties if I were employed in the House of Rothschild. Interest-free, verbally agreed loans won't put one on the road to riches.'

OK, I've been fortunate enough in my life so far that I've never been in a terribly tight financial position but if I were to need emergency funds, it would most likely be family and/or really good, long-standing friends I'd ask first, not some person I hardly know.

The fact of the matter in most of Colombia is that other family members probably don't have the resources to help out so it's worth chancing the arm with the seemingly 'flush gringo'. Nothing to lose, really.

'Your fake notes are no good here.'

However, I'm certainly no Rothschild or, in a more sinister sense, Shylock, for better or for worse. I'd soon be relieved of my money-lending duties if I were employed in the House of Rothschild. Interest-free, verbally agreed loans won't put one on the road to riches. 

Although, I do get interest paid in-kind via the occasional meal or beer it must be said. Also, similar to those infamous Jewish moneylenders, I am an outsider in the barrio, no matter how much I feel — and am made feel — part of it.

A genuine fake

It is, somewhat paradoxically, these more substantial loans that have proved to be less risky. Getting back on-the-spot payments of up to 20,000 pesos can be next to impossible. And all those small amounts do soon add up.

There is also the issue of a fake-note swindle when dealing in cash, a fate I had the displeasure of suffering recently.

Having given a 20,000-peso note to a lad with whom I consider I have a decent relationship, he returned a few minutes later with the note ripped, telling me it was fake.

There are three possibilities here: I had a fake note of which I was unaware; my friend was tricked by the street vendor from whom he attempted to make a purchase; my friend pulled a fast one on me.

Weighing all these up and taking into account the reaction of others in the tienda bar where I gave this friend the money — including close family of his — the last seems the most likely.

That being so, no doubt many will ask how can I call this guy a friend? It basically comes down to his all-round behaviour. He may be unreliable when it comes to money yet on most other fronts he's a likeable "marica".

It's why, as the old saying goes, one shouldn't mix business with pleasure. And it's why my barrio banking isn't a business but more a case of helping out friends whose needs appear greater than mine.

I just hope I don't end up doing some similar, desperate asking in the future.  
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Listen to Wrong Way's Colombia Cast podcast here.

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IQuiz "The Bogotá Pub Quiz": play for fun!

@wwaycorrigan

With the not-quite-post-pandemic "new normal" taking shape, IQuiz "The Bogotá Pub Quiz", Colombia's favourite (pending independent verification) trivia night made a long-awaited live return. Cervecería Gigante, an old acquaintance but now with a shiny new look and location, was the honourable host.

IQuiz: 53 not out.

And while 'nothing beats being there' as the saying goes, not everyone can physically attend — we haven't managed to get those chartered flights from all over the globe, um, off the ground just yet.

So, for you quiz buffs or those just curious to give it a go, wherever you may be in the world, here you can participate at your leisure (and for free, but minus the prizes!) in what was our 53rd edition of IQuiz.

It's all on this YouTube video, https://youtu.be/GTtgACwfaGQ (see below also) or, if you prefer, via Vimeo at https://vimeo.com/637856589.

Good luck! ¡Buena suerte!

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Listen to Wrong Way's Colombia Cast podcast here.

Facebook: Wrong Way Corrigan — The Blog & IQuiz "The Bogotá Pub Quiz".

 

These boots aren't made for walkin'

@wwaycorrigan

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

In my younger, more foolish and impressionable days when money was easier to come by, I had a tendency to impulsively buy clothes and footwear, then shortly afterwards realise I didn't really like them.

So far, only the Westland boots (bottom) have stood the test of time.

Nowadays, I'm practically the complete opposite. The mere thought of having to go and buy clothes fills me with dread.

Cold feet

The fact that I currently don't have a steady income and thus parting with cash for items that won't necessarily give me any great satisfaction is just one reason for this. 

This does, all the same, fit nicely with what could be seen as my more mature approach to fast fashion in these environmentally conscious times. It's cartoon style of sorts — same outfit, different episode.

Even if I was in a better financial position, I don't think I'd feel more relaxed forking out for what are in today's world effectively essentials — unless one ends up on the street or decides to live a largely solitary life, at one with nature.

A more significant reason for my current reluctance to buy new clothes, particularly footwear here in Colombia, is down to the abject quality of much of what's on offer. This, together with the difficulty of finding a broad range of styles for my relatively large foot size (honestly!).

Granted, I haven't ventured to the upper echelons of the pay scale and bought the well-known, made-in-China global brands in "reputable" stores. This is because I prefer to get these back in Europe.

'While aesthetically pleasing, the shoes started falling apart at the seams and the sole after two months. A representation of many things in Colombia, one might say — all style, little substance.'

A trick of the mind it may be, but paying 60 euros for a pair of Adidas in Ireland seems fair while paying around 300,000 pesos for the same product in Bogotá seems extortionate, even if at today's conversion rates it's the same price, give or take a few pesos. 

In fairness, using minimum wage as a guide, it is extortionate. 300,000 pesos is almost a third of the monthly minimum wage here, with 60 euros in Ireland equivalent to about six hours' work on a basic salary.

That being said, many of my friends have pointed me in the direction of 'quality, cheap fakes' or 'decent and affordable Colombian or nondescript brands'. The results, however, have been far from satisfactory.

For example, somebody suggested Payless shoes — with a name like that, how could one go wrong? 

A pair of runners, or tenis as the Colombians call them, I got there, while aesthetically pleasing, literally started falling apart at the seams and the sole after two months (a representation of many things in Colombia, one might say — all style, little substance). I had to send them to a cobbler's for life-saving repairs.

Unsurprisingly, this Éxito pair didn't last long.

Payless could do worse than to borrow the old slogan of a margarine brand: 'I can't believe they're not quality shoes.'

Go Westland

I wasn't expecting much from runners I bought at Éxito — a Colombian Tesco — at the beginning of this year but at 90,000 pesos I felt it was worth the gamble.

Again, they held together for about two months before problems, um, kicked in. And again, to continue using them, the cobbler's services were required. 

For repairs that cost 30,000 pesos, they functioned for another couple of months before the heels gave way. I somewhat stubbornly persisted with them but it got to the stage where it was nearly better to go barefoot than to wear them.

That's because entangled in all this are the innocent socks. I'd be as well to invest in the hosiery industry if I were to buy stockings every time holes appear at the heels or on the underside predominantly due to this dodgy footgear. But I don't. Thus, most of my current socks are holier than the communion of saints.

Will these Black Mountain shoes hold out?

Having not been back to Ireland for over three years I haven't had the chance to buy shoes in which I have confidence that they'll be somewhat durable. Oh, how I miss those sturdy and versatile Adidas Chile that travelled the world with me, serving me well for years.

So my latest footwear foray is with a Colombian brand, Black Mountain. I bought two pairs for 200,000 pesos, with a four-month guarantee included. If I get four months out of them it will, of course, be an improvement on what's gone before. One can only hope this isn't yet another case of shoddy shoes.

I must say, it hasn't been footwear failure forever here. In 2018 I bought a pair of Westland steel-toe-capped boots at a discount price of 150,000 pesos, a right bargain. Apparently, they had some minor production-line defect.

These seem pretty much indestructible and have, um, stood the test of time. However, they're rather heavy and not the best to use if one is on a 10-kilometre-plus walk or dashing from here to there.  

For now, it's mostly Black Mountain that's walking the walk with me. Will they stick the pace? Time shall tell.
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Listen to Wrong Way's Colombia Cast podcast here.

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Ciénaga, Magdalena: the children cleaning up the litter swamp

@wwaycorrigan

There's a saying amongst some cynical folk — so you can, of course, exclude Wrong Way — that Colombia would be a beautiful country but for its ubiquitous rubbish.

Rubbish on the beaches of Isla del Rosario. In fairness, I have seen worse.

In middle-to-low-income countries, dealing with litter is often well down the list of priorities for the average individual. This is somewhat understandable when almost every aspect of one's life is a constant struggle.

Be that as it may, wanton waste can be even more of a problem in coastal areas where tides bring in from far and wide the most unsightly of what's floating around the sea. When people aren't inclined to clean up their own rubbish there's little chance they'll be enthused to deal with that of others.

However, by instilling a bit of pride in one's place, the will to spruce up shared spaces can be found.

'Regardless of what those cynical types say, some parts of Colombia are capable of cleaning up their own act. If only the country's rich and powerful could follow suit.'

Such a spirit is being cultivated in Isla del Rosario near Ciénaga on the Caribbean coast in Colombia's Magdalena department, its shores having been particularly blighted by washed-up waste.

Over the last few weeks the community — in particular its younger generations — has come together to tackle the trash.

As part of this ongoing de-litter drive, a major cleanathon is planned for Sunday 17 October (see video below, in Spanish). Outside of the actual cleaning, the idea is to impress upon residents of this humble fishing village the importance of maintaining a clean environment.

So there you have it, regardless of what those cynical types say, some parts of Colombia are capable of cleaning up their own act. If only the country's rich and powerful could follow suit. We can dream.

*N.B: Ciénega means 'swamp' in English, hence the title for this piece. I'm sure it's not that much of a swamp these days.

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Listen to Wrong Way's Colombia Cast podcast here.

Facebook: Wrong Way Corrigan — The Blog & IQuiz "The Bogotá Pub Quiz".

Happy in Jenesano

@wwaycorrigan

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

Well, it may have taken 19 months, but I finally managed to swap the Bogotá beat for some pastoral peace, of sorts. (I'm discounting, due to their brevity, this year's day escapes on foot to Cota and La Calera as well as a bike ride and subsequent 24 hours in Cajicá.)

Jenesano's main plaza, the standard Colombian layout.

And like the last time I left the Colombian capital for a few nights, it was to the Boyacá department once again — the small (although big enough by Irish standards) market town of Jenesano and surrounds on this occasion, to be precise.

Close encounters

Some may wonder why I don't opt for more exotic locations, the argument being, as previously stated on this blog, that once you've seen one Boyacá pueblo (small town) you've practically seen them all.

There's merit to that viewpoint. Yet in terms of largely hassle-free travel, towns to the north of Bogotá tick many boxes for me. I live a five-minute walk from the city's northern bus terminal, so travelling north means I avoid most of the metropolis' traffic mayhem.

Yes, there's much more to the north of Bogotá than Boyacá, however, when it's only a few days' break, I don't want to spend too much time in transit.

The reason I chose Jenesano was simply that a barrio buddy mentioned it to me, he's due to work in the town next year.

'I've observed that urban centres in Colombia's warmer lands often have a rough side to them. This may have something to do with the growth of a certain cash crop. That and the politics at play.'

At 2,100 metres-above-sea-level, it's a little warmer than Bogotá. Just a little that is — it's certainly not tropical.

Par for the course in these parts, rolling hills abound. Equally standard are dubiously domesticated dogs guarding every dwelling. Most are in the bark-worse-than-bite category but it's always a good idea to have a lump of a stick with you just in case.

Now why exactly this was so I'm not sure, but Jenesano was previously called Genazzano after the Italian province of the same name, which translates as 'healthy people' or 'healthy town'.

Back to one's roots, kind of: harvesting arracachas.

I must say, I didn't see anything that points to the locals here being healthier than other Colombians. Indeed, if the lads who were football training are anything to go by, they could do with consuming fewer arepas.

For sure, the pace of life is certainly more relaxed and one would have fewer security concerns here compared to Bogotá, but that's quite a low bar.

What I tend to like about such agricultural towns with a mild climate is that the locals generally leave you to your own devices. I've observed that urban centres in Colombia's warmer lands often have a rough side to them. This may have something to do with the growth of a certain cash crop. That and the politics at play.

Mucking around

So while I would have been quite content to do my own thing in Jenesano, a random encounter with an older couple in a tienda bar on my first night meant I got a whole different, more fulfilling experience.

The couple and I were minding our own business until I ordered my second 850-ml Club Colombia (don't worry, Poker, it was purely for the novelty factor of the new bottle size for this brand — it won't become a habit). The young bartender, bless her, asked me what part of the USA I was from.

Of course I told her that not everyone who speaks English-accented Spanish is from the US. When I asked her to guess where I'm from, the couple took an interest.

'The five-kilometre wander to the slightly higher and slightly bigger Ramiriquí did take place the next day. Pleasantly surprisingly, there was a scarcity of annoying dogs en route.'

Thus began my friendship with Jenesano blow-in, José — he's from San Juan de Rioseco in Cundinamarca originally — and his local wife, Lucila.

They told me about their finca, farm if you will, on the hills outside the town and invited me to go up the next day. They were set to dig up and bag their arracacha harvest (arracacha, or racacha as it's also called, is a root vegetable, kind of like yuca but with a yellow-ish colour and, as far as I'm concerned, a much better taste).

Ramiriquí and beyond.

I postponed my half-plan to walk to the nearby Ramiriquí and accepted the couple's invite. I wasn't there just to make up the numbers, either. I, quite literally, mucked in, getting my hands dirty, putting into piles the dug up arracacha and then separating the edible root from the plant. A change is as good as a rest and all that.

José and Lucila did look after me for my endeavours, it must be noted. It wasn't exactly slave labour.

Not only that, but after a few "celebratory" beers back in Jenesano, they came to my rescue. Dropping me off at my hotel at the, um, ungodly hour of about 10.30 pm, there was no one attending the inn to let me in — shame on you, Hotel El Palacio.

After waiting in vain for a few minutes, the friendly couple brought me back to their house and gave me a bed, a very comfortable one at that, for the night. You see, sometimes it is good to befriend the locals.

The five-kilometre wander to the slightly higher — about 200 metres to be more exact — and slightly bigger Ramiriquí did take place the next day. Pleasantly surprisingly, there was a scarcity of annoying dogs en route.

While I only passed the afternoon in the town, it does seem to have a nice vibe to it. It also has decent and reasonably priced coffee from a number of cafés on its quaint main square, always a major plus point that.

For those looking to work up more of a sweat, there's a decent trek up to a chapel to the south-east that offers a landscape view of both Ramiriquí and Jenesano as well as Ciénega to the north-east, about six kilometres further on from Ramiriquí.

For my last day in Jenesano, I returned to José and Lucila's farm to pick up some arracacha to bring back to Bogotá with me. See, it wasn't a, um, rootless journey.

The couple then drove me to Tunja, Boyacá's capital city, where they had a few messages to run. I accompanied them for the afternoon before they dropped me off at the bus terminal.

The random things that can happen when you escape the monotony and explore pastures new, eh? The next adventure can't come quick enough.

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Listen to Wrong Way's Colombia Cast podcast here.

Facebook: Wrong Way Corrigan — The Blog & IQuiz "The Bogotá Pub Quiz".