Wrong Way Corrigan's hits and misses of 2023

@wwaycorrigan

In this independent blogging/vlogging game, the numbers do make a difference. OK, it's highly unlikely I'll ever make a living from it but one does get a small endorphin hit when one publishes what turns out to be a, um hit, views-wise.

The 2012-published Lord of the Dance proved popular in 2023. 

My modest hits would, of course, be considered terrible misses by the bigger players; it's all relative.

Missing the hits!

So what did Wrong Way Corrigan get right in terms of popular posts across the various platforms in 2023? And where was I a good bit off target?

Starting where my online content creation began, with Google Blogger, the most-viewed (I was going to write most-read but a view of the story doesn't necessarily mean that it was read!) was Living with unsettled and unsettling questions — 664 views as I write, in case you're wondering!

Incidentally, the most-viewed story on Google Blogger over the last 12 months wasn't a piece that was published this year. It was 2012's Lord of the dance. A timeless tale! 

'The Google blog is coming close to becoming a teenager. They grow up so fast, don't they?'

The least-viewed, excluding the most recent to be published, is Letter to the editor: Ireland's waste water, with a paltry 39 views.

Over at my El Tiempo blog, with a decent 1,458 views, Little thirst to teach English in these thinking times leads the way for the year ending.

At the other end of the scale is The care necessities: Dealing with old age with a rather pathetic 26.

On YouTube, A Boyacá fruit route: Tierra Negra-Nuevo Colón-Turmequé was the top performer of vlogs published in 2023  (YouTube makes the views public knowledge, so you can click on the hyperlink to find out the number!).

Making the bell toll for us while we still can | What's rung is rung! didn't quite reach the heights of A Boyacá fruit route!

For YouTube Shorts, A Bogotá jam ... is tops. Up in the clouds with Zetaquirá's Virgin Mary! has been more down in the dumps in terms of views!

Finally, on the podcast front, Not so gaga for physical footy: Time to nip it in the rib? didn't excite the masses. 

Finding that savoury spot between feasting and fasting performed a little bit better. Just a little, that is!

So there we have it. Perhaps 2024 will see Wrong Way Corrigan become more occupied with other, better-paying projects. The blog is our baby, all the same. In fact, the Google blog is coming close to becoming a teenager. They grow up so fast, don't they?
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Listen to The Corrigan Cast podcast here.

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Hell yeah or no?! It's a no, so!

@wwaycorrigan

[For an audio/vlog version of this story, click here.]

'If it isn't a hell yeah, it's a no.'

'I'll get back to you.'

So goes the advice from Derek Sivers, a man who I guess can be described as a self-help guru even if he doesn't appear to use that title himself. The books he's written, including Hell Yeah or No and How To Live, suggest the self-help sombrero fits well.

The certainty of uncertainty

On first viewing, I thought this counsel to be spot on. If one has doubts about engaging in something, it's best to follow one's instincts and decline.

On deeper reflection, however, I began to think about the times a decision I made was a definitive hell yeah.

Now, I may be guilty of recency bias here, particularly in this highly uncertain period I'm going through, but I couldn't think of any hell-yeah decision in my life. Before any choice I eventually opted for there was an amount of thought and much hesitation.

Heck, I struggle to decide with peace of mind over what to eat in a restaurant, never mind the mental and, at times, physical chore of choosing one potentially life-altering path over another.

OK, my levels of indecisiveness may be higher than average but I wager few people have ever made a decision with total certainty and confidence. Almost all choices come with pros and cons.

'We either make a decision or we do not. And not making one is a decision in itself.'

Perhaps in Hell Yeah or No sagacious Sivers expands on such dilemmas and helps the irresolute reader find the fog-less way. I certainly hope he does. (And no, I haven't read his work. I merely happened upon his advice via a post from another man with many answers, Chris Williamson, on the social medium formerly known as Twitter — X, that is.)

While I often wish I was more decisive, I do feel, in certain contexts, that there's a positive aspect to my regular uncertainty and hesitancy.

Not immediately saying yes to something that is ostensibly great allows me to think about the downsides. Thus, one can make a more balanced decision. That's the theory, anyway.

What's more, I do have a tendency to be a faultfinder of sorts. And we do need people to point out errors; it's why, for one, we have editors and proofreaders.

This is not to say that I'm an overly negative person. It's just that where some people are able to easily overlook the bad, I usually find this more difficult to do. (Of course, there are obvious exceptions, such as imbibing. I know it would most likely be better for my overall health not to drink any alcohol but I do like the occasional beer!)

It's not revelatory to state that few if any things in life are solely positive and beneficial.

Take the sun, an essential giver of life and a great provider of vitamin D. Yet, soaking in too much of it can hasten one's earthly demise in the form of skin cancer.

In any situation — particularly where time allows — it's about weighing up the plusses and minuses to make what is generally described as an informed decision.

¡Viva la resolution!

So while a choice might not be an obvious hell yeah, the positives on one side may be sufficient enough to make it the selection that's, um, less hellish. Or a hell OK if you will, to make it sound slightly chirpier.

The idea is to be in as much control over this process as possible. We may be indecisive but time doesn't pause whilst we make up our minds. We either make a decision or we do not. And not making one is a decision in itself.

This is all in the context of those who can be deemed fortunate enough to have reasonable options from which to choose, the conundrums posed by the paradox of choice notwithstanding i.e. where too many choices represent a problem in themselves.

These what-to-do moments are dilemmas for many, yet others see them as a luxury they'd gladly have.

So rather than endorse hell yeah or no, my more nuanced advice is to try to make a decision as quickly as possible — where possible, that is — and once you've made it, don't dwell too much on the path not taken.

With New Year resolution season upon us, think of it as aiming for a little less irresolution. Few things in this life are unalterable, after all.
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Listen to The Corrigan Cast podcast here.

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Dawn of the downsizers

@wwaycorrigan

[For an audio/vlog version of this story, click here.]

'You don't know how easy you have it. In my day, life was far worse.'

This is one of the standard ripostes from older folk when they hear youngsters complaining about how bad their current situation is. While this Digital Age has its unique challenges, things were far tougher in the past, so it goes anyway.

Bigger isn't always better.

This, though, depends on how one defines what tough is.

For there are measures, open to much interpretation as such things are, that suggest that millennials from some high-income nations are set to be the first generation in modern times to be less well-off than their parents.

Personally, comparing my wealth and assets to my father's, this less-well-off interpretation seems about right.

Coming up to his 39th birthday, whilst already the father of six children and with two more yet to come, myself included, my Dad was in the process of building his own house on the land of the family farm he inherited.

For me right now, two months away from turning 39, it's highly unlikely I'd get a mortgage approved to even consider buying a dwelling. (For the record, I haven't even looked into it because I'm not sure where I would like to own property, if I want to at all that is. Also, many Irish in my age cohort who opted more for settling down rather than a life of adventure abroad appear to be on a steadier financial footing.)

Generation game

Of course, comparing generations, particularly those born in the late stages of the Technological Revolution and into our current Digital Age, is fraught with complications due to the rapid rate of change in almost all aspects of life.

The household my father was born into in 1943 was rather different from the one I came into just 42 years later.

Where in his mid-teens my Dad was England-bound for an early life of toil in construction, my main concerns at the same age were football and the secondary-school leaving certificate. And I could fret about such matters from the comfort of the family home.

'It's understandable that when more prosperous times came along, these older generations were mesmerised by the materialism that presented itself to them.'

In my early twenties, with a university education already completed, I was able to abandon my budding media career to go travelling around the world. Such opportunities were largely unheard of for somebody of my father's background.

Now, an argument can be made that the less mollycoddled youth that my father and most of his peers had to go through gave a more realistic picture of life's struggles and was thus more beneficial in the long run.

Nonetheless, what few of that generation had was a choice. I, on the other hand, had various options open to me. In most instances, that's a positive (there are times, though, when I think it would be better not to have too many options).

Material world

So, when those born in the 1940s, 50s, 60s and even 70s say that they had it tougher growing up than those of us who came later, this is hard to argue against from a technology and access-to-resources perspective.

Seen in such a light, it's understandable that when more prosperous times came along, these older generations were mesmerised by the materialism that presented itself to them.

In Ireland, we saw this to an extreme extent during the Celtic Tiger years, something I touched on in a 2012 blog story titled, On the road again, naturally.

Some in the country went from what was little more than subsistence living to a life where they couldn't spend money fast enough — borrowed at cheap rates as much of it was.

'More, more, more' and 'bigger is better' were the mantras. And many got quite comfortable with their new comforts.

When the faecal matter hit the ventilator of Ireland's Celtic Tiger boom, some realised the error of their ways. Well, it was more a case that the financial reality was laid bare.

Yet, letting go of the lavishness hasn't been easy. And from my observations, it's the older generations who are more reluctant to do away with rather unnecessary home comforts and associated excessive waste. (Although, hypocrites abound across the generations when it comes to calls to 'reduce, reuse and recycle'.)

The heat is on

To be clear, I'm not calling for a return to something resembling a caveman existence. What I am saying is that many in the comfortable classes could downsize in a host of areas and not really suffer from it.

In fact, doing without certain mod cons might actually improve our quality of life and reduce our carbon footprints.

For example — referring to Ireland and similar countries here — rather than crank up the heating in winter time, there is evidence that suggests having a naturally cooler house may have health benefits. So, where possible, stay warm by being active rather than relying on home heating.

Do note, it's usually easier and more cost-effective to keep warm in a smaller dwelling, too. Does one really need that five-bedroom dormer?

I've let it be known many times before — see my previous story Me, myself and I, for one — that some people could do without cars, that they have them more for convenience than necessity.

Now, I hasten to add that I have previously acknowledged that going without a car is easier to do in cities or areas with reliable and extensive public transport as well as decent infrastructure for pedestrians and cyclists. Much of rural Ireland fails badly in this regard.

I am well aware, too, that such adjustments require a societal mindset change, together with the provision of the means to make adaptation easier to achieve.

Ever-evolving, more efficient technology is helping us to still enjoy certain comforts, to still be as productive, without being an excessive strain on the planet's finite resources and the natural environment.

My peers and I can be the generation that downsizes in a way that is beneficial both to ourselves and the world at large.

This is the dawn of the downsizers.
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Listen to The Corrigan Cast podcast here.

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Letter to the editor: Ireland's water waste

@wwaycorrigan

Easy come, easy go. That seems to be the mindset for many in Ireland when it comes to using water. My latest letter to the Irish Examiner explains more.

Read it at https://www.irishexaminer.com/opinion/yourview/arid-41279887.html or see the screenshot below.

Time to turn off Ireland's free-water tap?

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Listen to The Corrigan Cast podcast here.

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Letter to the editor: My take on the Dublin riots

@wwaycorrigan

My take on the Dublin riots of Thursday 23 November 2023 in a letter to the Irish Examiner. 

Read the letter at https://www.irishexaminer.com/opinion/yourview/arid-41278258.html (second one down). Or see the screenshot of the letter, below.

Rent a riot: Any excuse to cause mayhem.

Goodbye Nanny State! Hello Overbearing Mother Society

@wwaycorrigan

[For an audio/vlog version of this story, click here.]

'I wish to reply to the opinions of Brendan Corrigan (Letters, 9 October) where he gave his rather right-wing views on child benefit being means-tested.

I have to say that I found Mr Corrigan's views quite worrying. It is obvious to me that he lacks any insight into the world of bringing up children in this State.'

'Please, State. I want some more.'

Child's play

Thus ran the opening lines of the riposte by a Mr Liam Muldowney to my October 2010 letter in the Irish Independent calling for Ireland's child benefit allowance to be means tested. (My letter is at
https://www.independent.ie/opinion/letters/time-to-means-test-child-benefit/26688058.html. Mr Muldowney's reply in full can be found at https://www.independent.ie/opinion/letters/families-already-being-put-to-the-test/26689397.html)

Mr Muldowney was not wholly wrong to state that I 'lack insight into the world of bringing up children' in Ireland. Observing from the sidelines is nothing like actually becoming a caring parent — brief encounters with young nieces and nephews have given me just a taste of the challenges involved.

I also agree that some parents in the country have come to rely on Child Benefit to help buy essentials for their offspring.

My argument at the time — and this remains so — was that another cohort of parents didn't really need this government assistance. For sure, it's nice to get it, but it's not crucial for the survival of the family.

Of course, it's highly unlikely that any Irish government would suggest changing the status quo. Scrapping the benefit for certain parents who are deemed to be high earners but in reality may be rather hard-pressed — relative as that is — would surely be a vote loser.

The least politically toxic way to deal with it would be to set up a mechanism where it could be returned to the state's coffers voluntarily. Window dressing to suit all tastes that. (For more on Ireland's Child Benefit, see https://www.citizensinformation.ie/en/social-welfare/social-welfare-payments/families-and-children/child-benefit/.)

Entitled

Now, I've recalled this 13-year-old letter debate in a bid to preempt any claims of hypocrisy on my part.

No, I'm not in receipt of child benefit (Ireland's welfare system may be rather generous but it's not yet a complete free-for-all where childless individuals can claim financial support for kids they don't have or care for — at least I think not, anyway).

I'm bringing up my old 'right-wing', raw-capitalism opinions because I am now, to use the old expression, an Irish government artist. Yes, I have been granted jobseeker's allowance here in my birth country while I ponder and plot my next move.

In my defence, my application was submitted by as close to happenstance as such a procedure can — I know, I know, I didn't accidentally fill out the forms!

What I mean, is that I was at the welfare office to get a Public Services Card, a prerequisite to do pretty much anything in Ireland Inc. these days.

'The natural progression for a nanny state is to become more like an overbearing mother. It wants to control all aspects of its citizens' lives.'

A long-standing friend in my village had suggested I look for jobseeker's allowance and although I shrugged it off at the time, whilst in the welfare office applying for my Public Services Card I merely asked the woman attending me about this unemployment assistance.

Without asking me if I actually wanted to apply for it, she gave me the forms I needed for an application — namely the Jobseeker's Allowance/Benefit form itself and a Habitual Residence Condition form. The latter was required because I hadn't resided in Ireland over the last two years (make that five since I last visited).

So I filled out these forms with a see-what-happens mindset. Two working days later, I get a letter informing me that my application has been approved.

Most people I speak to here in Ireland, on seeing my slight unease at having been granted this assistance, ask the loaded question, 'Sure aren't you entitled to it?'

Well, clearly I am, officially. At present, I am unemployed, I continue to seek work, my savings in euro terms are minimal and I don't own property nor do I have any assets of note or significant financial investments.

And the way Welfare Ireland operates, one risks being disadvantaged in the future for not applying for a benefit one may be entitled to. Or, better said, disadvantaged for not applying for benefits one most likely would be granted.

By disadvantaged here I refer, for one, to the possibility of being asked to account for the times when you had no income yet didn't seek state aid.

China in our hands

This is how what some call the Nanny State functions.

My unease with it all — alleviated as it is somewhat by the yet-to-be-issued recompense — is that I'm playing along with a system about which I have many misgivings.

You see, the natural evolution of a nanny state is in reverse to humanity. Unlike a human grandmother, the nanny state doesn't become mellower and eventually die.

No, the natural progression for a nanny state is to become more like an overbearing mother. It wants to control all aspects of its citizens' lives.

An authoritarian takeover this is not. In many ways, it's more pernicious than that. It's the gradual removal of one's independence handout after handout, health and safety legislation after health and safety legislation.

'We're doing this for your own protection, little ones.' Quite. One may feel safer and better looked after but this comes at the price of one's independence, individually as well as at family and community level.

Ideally, the state should be like a god, but one that can actually physically intervene where necessary. It should work to enhance the conditions for life's essentials and offer some comfort at times but it shouldn't get directly involved in the day-to-day running of one's affairs.

In much of the West, what we have now, however, is an Overbearing Mother Society.

With that, we're closer to the Chinese model than many care to believe.

Postscript:
In finishing this piece, I came across a lengthy article by N.S. Lyons titled The China Convergence. In it, he refers to 'techno-administrative governance', my version of the Overbearing Mother Society it could be said. That detailed and insightful, if worrying piece is available at https://theupheaval.substack.com/p/the-china-convergence.
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Listen to The Corrigan Cast podcast here.

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A little blue in the green, green grass of Ireland

@wwaycorrigan

[For an audio/vlog version of this story, click here.]

As a sun worshiper of sorts, travelling to Ireland as winter sets in may seem a rather curious thing to do.

Ireland is nice for a visit but it's not the best place to be when looking for work.

While summer in my birthplace does not at all mean glorious sunshine, at least the hours of daylight surpass the hours of night. So for a better chance of enjoying some sun heat in Ireland, visiting between April and September is the optimum period. Just always have a rain jacket close to hand.

Tired land

That being so, cloudless skies and sultry air over Ireland at any time are almost as rare as finding precious-metal-laden cooking containers at the end of a prismatic optical phenomenon from the heavens (locating leprechauns may be an easier task).

That the country gets tourists at all — those with little-to-no blood ties to the land that is — is thanks to its topographical treats and friendly folk, so it goes anyway. It's not for the weather and it's certainly not because it's relatively cheap to visit — far from it these days.

My backend-of-the-year trip home has been chiefly for family reasons.

Had my father's parents been more considerate back in the 1940s and given birth to him sometime during that aforementioned April-September window, his 80th birthday would have fallen during what I consider to be a more agreeable season. Shame on my grandparents for such a lack of forethought. The difficult hand one is dealt in life, eh?

That aside, considering it had been five years since my last trip to Ireland, I felt a visit was called for. Also, it's not like I was leaving behind a host of well-paid projects in Colombia. 2023 hasn't exactly been a year of joyous jobs.

Thus, the chance to celebrate a joyous jamboree or two with family was welcome. It was something to aim for during complicated times.

I wasn't, however, filled with huge excitement making the journey back.

This had/has nothing to do with family. It's more a case that regardless of where I am I face the same dilemma: What do I do to make ends meet?

'The laneways of Lisacul and its surrounds that I've trodden many a time don't offer a sense of adventure.'

So while it's been great to see family and some friends again — and a niece and nephew for the first time — that what-do-I-do cloud is one that no west of Ireland gale will blow away.

And of all the places I could be whilst trying to source some fulfilling work, rural Ireland in winter, with its long dreary, uninspiring nights, is well down the list. Indeed, selfish as this may sound, being back in the house of my increasingly dependent house only adds to the sense of gloom.

Yes, the travails of old age are inevitable for most of us yet it's particularly sad to see our loved ones decline. (This is balanced out somewhat by seeing nieces and nephews grow and develop into young adults.)

It speaks volumes that I was only back in Ireland a few hours before I felt that I'd never left. I guess that's normal.

Where the wind blows

Right now, though, in this time of particular uncertainty — nothing is ever certain, of course — I believe I'd be far more energised stepping into some unknown new adventure, finances permitting.

The laneways of Lisacul and its surrounds that I've trodden many a time don't offer that. Nor does the slobbering around on the unkempt family farm. These have been well tried but not quite trusted to deliver any sort of fulfilment, so to put it.

As things stand, the default is to take the return flight to Bogotá. For sure, I've had my struggles there. It's also not an unknown new adventure. Yet, from a purely financial perspective, I could manage my affairs a little better there. My Colombian pesos carry scant weight in high-income Ireland.

Colombia can be my, whisper it, wolf's lair, until, perhaps, La Cancillería finally tells me I'm a persona non grata (my current visa is valid for another year yet).

It could be argued that a return to Colombia is just a return to an increasingly less satisfying, mediocre comfort zone — to clarify, that is mediocre in terms of what I've been doing there, not the actual country.

There's truth to that, although I feel I can be a little freer, more independent in Colombia than in an expensive, public transport-light rural Ireland.

I do still have, though, a few more weeks to go in my birth country. And far from fixed to one place as I am, a winter storm could yet blow me in another direction.
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Listen to The Corrigan Cast podcast here.

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

Calling out the illiberal "liberals"

@wwaycorrigan

Sharing here my latest letter in the Sunday Independent.

It's shocking to think that Declan Lynch gets paid for his column and I don't get remunerated for my musings!

Outside of the photo of the letter below, it can also be found by scrolling down on the following link, https://www.independent.ie/opinion/letters/letters-time-for-bishops-to-be-humble-and-ask-for-priests-from-afar/a1461060798.html.

For more on illiberal "liberals" and suchlike see https://wwcorrigan.blogspot.com/2022/09/the-liberal-illusion.html and https://wwcorrigan.blogspot.com/2023/02/living-with-unsettled-and-unsettling.html. 

Tackling the Lynch mob.

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Seventh heaven: Seven benefits of living in Colombia

@wwaycorrigan

[For an audio/vlog version of this story, click here.]

I've let it be known many times before how Colombia can be bad for one's health and well-being — or my own, at least.

The high life: Wrong Way is a fan of Colombia's highlands.

For one, there are the ubiquitous panaderías with their constant supply of fresh-but-of-dubious-quality bread that can be hard to resist, especially when it's just out of the oven.

Then there's cheap barrio-tienda beer. Its affordability often encourages those of a certain disposition to imbibe more than is advisable. (In mitigation, it does promote socialising. If one is going to drink, isn't it better to do so in a public house rather than at home? There's surely a mental health benefit to be had.)

We've also got apartment complexes and their complexes i.e. their many ridiculous rules. The mentally and physically damaging playing of loud music often goes unpunished yet prepare yourself for the firing squad if you dare to air clothes at the only window you have that the sun reaches. Well, if not quite the firing squad certainly a fine will be forthcoming.

And let's not forget the largely non-existent customer service, although this isn't exclusive to Colombia.

'You don't have to go out of your way to eat healthily here.'

I was going to include the difficult damas, the complicated chicas, but thanks to my frigidity these days, such stresses are a thing of the past.

However, in recent months the antics of some frenemies have taken their place. My ability, nay willingness, to trust people has taken a hit in these lands. I do, though, still tend to take folk at their word until proven otherwise.

Now, in light of the previous, one might think that I actively seek out negatives, that I'm a fan of self-flagellation so to put it. Not at all. It's not that I'm a sucker for punishment that I've stayed in Colombia this long. Honestly, it's not.

The following, in no particular order, are some of the main reasons why I've been captured, in a good sense, by Colombia. (Yes, I could have used captivated instead of captured but captivated is a bit too quixotic for me!) These seven benefits have played their part in my reluctance to let Colombia go.

Fresh fare sourced locally

When it comes to the bare necessities, Colombia has an abundance of relatively cheap fruit and vegetables available all year round, most of which are grown in the country. So you don't have to go out of your way to eat healthily here. And the grub doesn't have to travel too far to get to you either.

One significant snag, though, is that we can't be sure about the safety of any pesticides these natural goodies may be dosed in during cultivation. Unless we grow our own from scratch — impracticable for many — we just have to hope that the chemical balance is tipped in our favour health-wise.

Independent living

Now, there's no point in having access to a range of fresh produce if you rarely have the time to cook. For the average working-class, city-dwelling Colombian, this can be a challenge.

However, some foreigners from higher-income nations who come to settle here are often engaged in work that comes with generous me-time, more so than they would most likely enjoy in their birth country anyway.

Fresh fare: The food looks good. Hopefully it's not riddled with harmful chemicals.

The likes of native English speakers who teach the language can usually expect to earn a decent hourly rate. So they can do fairly well without having to work the long hours forced upon many locals.

It's even better for those who are paid in one of the world's stronger currencies whilst based in Colombia.

Alas, having grown tired of English teaching and not having a foreign-currency income to rely on, I haven't exactly been rolling in it of late.

Nonetheless, with my rather minimalist lifestyle — it comes naturally — I have been able to maintain my independent living to a greater or lesser extent, replete with regular, refreshing bouts of travel around Colombia.

While the fallow periods can be worrying, I'm happier to ride them out than return to work as a wage slave. One is open to all serious offers all the same!

Rentafácil

Those fallow periods just mentioned, of which there have been many of late, have been offset somewhat by, whisper it, a rather generous savings scheme.

Banco Caja Social's Rentafácil, literally easy income, has been at inflation-busting interest rates for some time, offering much better returns than the CDTs I wrote about in 2020. My cautious, doubting nature is waiting for the catch but so far, so good, it seems.

Shrewder investors will most likely find fault with the Rentafácil or view it as an amateur investment. All I can say is that if the interest it's accruing is all mine to enjoy then I'll be quite content (it is, by the way, an instant-access scheme but I haven't withdrawn any funds yet).

Active at altitude

Whatever about the future of the returns on my Rentafácil, they're unlikely to take me to the high life socially speaking. Colombia's topography, on the other hand, offers plenty of natural highs.

'In Bogotá, only the very sensitive to cold might want home heating at night.'

And while it's far from certain that living at lofty altitudes is better for one's overall health than life around sea level, I at least think that the high-ish life has been good for me. And if I think it hard enough, I can make it the truth, can't I?!

In fact, at times I feel that Bogotá, at 2,600 metres above sea level, isn't high enough. So I'm considering setting up a new base camp in Colombia — if, that is, I can make it financially sustainable and the country continues to be my home.

One option, um, high on the list is Güicán, a town I recently visited and enjoyed, perched about 400 metres closer to the stars than the capital.

Fun in the sun

Speaking of being closer to the stars, Colombia's location in the tropics ensures that the sun's strength provides sufficient vitamin D throughout the year.

Even during Bogotá's rainiest days the sun usually shines sufficiently for the average person to soak up enough of this immune system booster.

This can't be said of my native Ireland and other similar places.

Goldilocks zone

Mentioning Ireland, for large parts of the year a heat source is usually needed to keep people warm inside.

In Bogotá, only the very sensitive to cold might want home heating at night. Those aside, if one feels cold, an extra item of clothing and/or some physical movement should warm one up sufficiently. The same goes for most Andean locations at an altitude of roughly 1,500 to 3,000 metres above sea level: a Goldilocks temperature all year round.

For places at the lower end of that range, finding ways to cool down is the main issue. Well above 3,000 metres, one can expect to prepare for occasional night frosts. And because many of Colombia's buildings are poorly insulated, it can often be colder inside than outside.

Inside outsider

As for inside and outside, in my beloved working-class barrios and pueblos, I usually feel like an inside outsider.

That is, with the local people who know me, I'm not just another random foreigner. I'm viewed more as a part of the community. Yet, I can still maintain my distance and play the foreigner card (not the gringo one!) when needs be.

Now, this is the least one might expect after almost 12 years based in a country. However, settled immigrants don't always become accepted, be they in Colombia — in certain places more so than others — or around the world. This can be due to an immigrant's own behaviour, the locals' attitude or a mixture of both.

During my time in Colombia, I feel I've found the right inside/outside balance.

Some, though, argue that I've become too cosy with working-class Colombia to the detriment of my career and financial development. There's merit to that.

Yet, taking all the above into account, Colombia has been a more positive experience than a negative one. Maybe other places offer all these benefits but have fewer negatives. If so, do let us know about them!
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Free love and sexual fluidity: Queer today, gay tomorrow

@wwaycorrigan

[For an audio/vlog version of this story, click here.]

A guy I was recently working with told me that he is in a polyamorous relationship with a woman.

His partner had been in a lesbian romance, but she left that to start this open arrangement with him. Obviously, both of them are comfortable with the idea. It simply couldn't work otherwise.

For some, any hole is a goal.

Pride (in the name of love)

One thing this guy didn't mention — and I wasn't really bothered to ask considering I'm not that prurient — is whether or not he, like his prime partner, enjoys same-sex intimacy. My inkling is that he doesn't.

While I've never been in such a relationship — not by consent anyway — it did get me thinking about the whole concept and how I'd feel about playing a part in it.

I would be more accepting of the idea if my partner were doing her sleeping around with other women. I wouldn't be at all comfortable with the thought of her having sex with men.

I wager — and some academic studies on the subject back this up — that most heterosexual men share such sentiments.

My male mind had thus led me to hypothesise that most heterosexual women in an open relationship would prefer their man's additional partners to be men. However, anecdotal evidence and a number of research papers suggest this is not so.

A case of, it could be argued, women wanting their male lovers to be manly. Men having gay sex tends to go against this notion.

The, um, pride of many men, meanwhile, would take a significant hit if they were to discover their female lover was sleeping with rival males. Yet, a lesbian transgression may in some instances excite the dominant male.

Defenders of the unfaithful

All this does beg the question — particularly in a time when sexual fluidity for all genders appears to be flowing more freely than ever — are we, those of us from a Judeo-Christian tradition in any case, too tied to monogamy?

As many strive to live a life as close as possible to 'as nature intended', is having just one partner for the majority of our lives somewhat unnatural?

'How much this anchoring to monogamy is nature and how much is nurture is difficult to know.'

In a 2012 blog story that looked at the influence of Catholicism in both Colombia and Ireland, I explained how Vatican policy regarding sexual intercourse has had a longer history of being ignored in Colombia than in my birth country.

Back then, I surmised that the seemingly more liberal Colombian approach as regards sex might indeed be more natural but not the best when it comes to raising a family. That is, not the best when just one parent is, quite literally, left holding the baby.

Even though Ireland is far less conservative in this area than it was when I came into the world in the mid-1980s, monogamy is still generally seen as virtuous, in word at least.

Of course, infidelity is often a reason for the breakup of a relationship or marriage. So if polygamy were viewed less grievously, if it were more accepted, infidelity would lose much weight as grounds for separation.

For many of us, however, such a change of mindset wouldn't come simply. How much this anchoring to monogamy is nature and how much is nurture is difficult to know. It is, of course, the current standard for most of humanity, with an estimated two per cent of the global population in polygamous households.

That being so, those in what is meant to be a monogamous relationship who end up two-timing often do so impulsively. They don't set out to be unfaithful.

Thus, the injured partner can be more accepting of and forgive a transgression if the desire to do so exists.

For as much as monogamy is seen as desirable, most realise that it has to be worked at all the same. At times it requires willpower. And sometimes, some fail.

Roman rule: Anything goes

There is much less wriggle room and understanding when it comes to sexuality.

As already referenced, there is usually little to no leniency shown by a female partner to a once-perceived heterosexual man who is found to have been unfaithful homosexually.

'In Ancient Rome, it seems that bisexuality was standard, at least for those with citizen status. An any-hole-is-a-goal approach.'

This is chiefly because most people today still view sexuality as fixed, innate, not fluid. One can't be queer today, bi tomorrow and heterosexual the day after.

Yet, a glance at history suggests it hasn't always been thus.

In Ancient Rome, for example, it appears sexual fluidity was the norm, as the British historian Tom Holland pointed out in a recent interview:

'There’s a description in Suetonius’s imperial biography of Claudius: "He only ever slept with women." And this is seen as an interesting foible in the way that you might say of someone, he only ever slept with blondes. I mean, it’s kind of interesting, but it doesn’t define him sexually. Similarly, he says of Galba, an upright embodiment of ancient republican values: "He only ever slept with males." And again, this is seen as an eccentricity, but it doesn’t absolutely define him.'

'What does define a Roman in the opinion of Roman moralists is basically whether you are — and I apologise for the language I’m now going to use — using your penis as a kind of sword, to dominate, penetrate and subdue. And the people who were there to receive your terrifying, thrusting, Roman penis were, of course, women and slaves: anyone who is not a citizen, essentially. So the binary is between Roman citizens, who are all by definition men, and everybody else.'

So going by this, in Ancient Rome, it seems that bisexuality was standard, at least for those with citizen status. An any-hole-is-a-goal approach.

OK, as Holland's insight implies, some Romans were heterosexual and some homosexual, but these are seen as outliers.

Like other traits, one's sexuality is most likely on a spectrum, as the Kinsey scale, for one, measures. (For more on that and other scales see https://www.webmd.com/sex/what-is-sexuality-spectrum.)

What's more, there is a belief among some scholars that one's position on the spectrum can change over time. That may be so. Or it might be that some people are more of the anything-goes variety when it comes to sexual pleasure.

Right now, I can say I'm in a healthy asexual relationship. And I'm certainly not in the free-love brigade. It would take somebody special to, um, knock me off these pillars.
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Yes Güicán! But you just can't touch the snow-capped mountains

@wwaycorrigan

[For an audio/vlog version of this story, click here.]

There are times when, contrary to the lyrics in the popular 1977 Fleetwood Mac song, you can't go your own way.

Snow go! This is as close as one can get to the Ritacuba glacier.

Well, you can't if the place you want to go to is inside a national park with various entry requirements, including the prohibition of unguided treks, forcing one to fork out for a certified guide.

Normally, I find such conditions a turn-off. 'No thanks, I'll do my own thing.'

Reaching Ritacuba

However, some sites are protected in such a manner for the very fact that they are special and thus need to be shielded from over-tourism.

And a number of these are places that are on my imaginary priority-visit list, among them being treks up to Colombia's highest peaks.

This is what brought me to the chilled-out town of Güicán in the Boyacá department.

At an altitude of about 3,000 metres, it serves as a point of departure for the Sierra Nevada de El Cocuy, Güicán and Chita. Generally, the first of these municipalities, El Cocuy, tends to dominate the naming rights, but all of the snow-capped peaks in this mountain range are actually in Güicán.

A lone frailejón: A little further down the mountain, there are thousands of them.

It was one such peak, Ritacuba Blanco at somewhere between 5,300 and 5,410 metres above sea level — I've seen various figures in that range given — that was on my radar.

A cursory internet check before leaving Bogotá did at least forewarn me that it wouldn't be a case of simply rocking up to Güicán and from there finding my own way to the snowcaps. Wishful, nay naïve thinking.

Even that rocking up to the town proved more taxing than it should have been.

Instead of the estimated journey time of nine hours, it took 15. This was due to an on-off mechanical failure with the bus, which eventually resulted in a wait for a replacement vehicle halfway through the trip. When taking overland transport in Colombia, it's best not to pack punctuality.

As it was a night-time departure, the longer-than-expected journey wasn't a big setback, arriving as we did at Güicán in the early afternoon. (I don't like to get to places I don't know after dusk.)

Being an impromptu trip — it's generally how I travel — the first mission on arrival was to find cheap accommodation.

That, I successfully did in the shape of Hospedaje Casa Grande — one can't go too wrong with a room for 25,000 pesos per night.

Retreating: The glacier is gradually disappearing.

Its owner, the helpful Wosvaldo, quickly got the necessary planning in motion for my trip to Ritacuba.

Wosvaldo also offers his taxi services to and from the control/entrance point, some 17 km from Güicán via unpaved roads and 1,000 metres higher up. So he, like most accommodation providers in the town, has skin in the treks-to-the-Sierra Nevada game.*

'The trek up itself, from 4,000 to 4,800 metres through kilometres of frailejón-filled land, is mild enough.'

First on that planning list was the need to source a guide. Wosvaldo, unsurprisingly, had one to hand: the rather genteel Luis Emilio.**

Once Luis Emilio confirmed his ability for the next day, the next step was to pay the entrance fee to the national park. For me, as a foreigner with a Colombian-issued ID, it was 41,500 pesos. For non-resident foreigners, it's about double that, for Colombians it's half that.

Ruana-clad guide Luis Emilio examines the frailejones. 

This payment is made at an office in the town, next to which is the company providing the compulsory insurance. For two people, the guide and me, that cost 15,200 pesos.

The final requirement was to connect to a roughly 30-minute online induction chat provided live by a National Natural Parks of Colombia (PNN) employee. That takes place at 4 pm each evening and covers the three permitted treks inside the Sierra Nevada de El Cocuy, Güicán and Chita National Natural Park.

Do note, the entrance fee is valid for three days so if one has the desire — and more limiting in my case, the dinero, the money — the three treks can be done over three days.

When going it alone, as in not through an agency, the guide and the insurance are daily expenses. There are various accommodation options closer to the park entrance, so one could save on travel costs to and from Güicán by staying in one of those.

Photos show that the other two treks are equally as impressive as Ritacuba but my focus was on getting as close as possible to the highest peak with the most extensive glacier. It is, by the way, prohibited to actually walk on or even touch the glacier and snow.

Snow show

The trek up itself, from 4,000 to 4,800 metres through kilometres of frailejón-filled land, is mild enough. Some may have issues with the oxygen-light air but thankfully that wasn't a problem for me.

We started our ascent at dawn, just before 6 am, and arrived at the glacier shortly after 8.30 am, with a short snack stop included along the way. As guides go, Luis Emilio and I were pretty much in sync pace-wise.

The view from Peñón de los Muertos, with Güicán in the right middle-ground. 

While I may be accused of taking a very easy out here, particularly as a blogger, I feel describing the glacier and the sights all around with words is insufficient. To address this shortcoming, I recorded a few YouTube Shorts videos which you can find at https://youtube.com/shorts/ZHGESHxM0no and https://youtube.com/shorts/JhaN7B4D4x4.

'Güicán is up there as the ruana-wearing capital of Colombia. It's easier to keep track of those not donning this traditional garb than those with it.'

Having soaked in the splendour for half an hour or so, we started our descent to the entrance point just as the clouds began to roll in. Yes, luckily Mother Nature shone on us that morning. No doubt dark skies and precipitation would have dampened the wonderland experience somewhat — although a snow shower would have been nice.

My visit was during a tourist-light period, so Luis Emilio and I had the glacier viewing point to ourselves. I'm guessing it's different during high season. The Ritacuba trek, though, is limited to fewer than 80 tourists per day.

Güicán itself doesn't give off an obvious tourist vibe, whether one views that as good, bad or indifferent. There's certainly no international flair to it. It maintains its basic Boyacá market-town flavour.

It's also certainly up there as the ruana-wearing capital of Colombia. It's easier to keep track of those not donning this traditional garb than those with it.

Respected traditions notwithstanding, one might expect Güicán to have at least one establishment that prepared coffee to more cosmopolitan standards i.e. not greca-brewed fare that at best merely gives a hint as to what good coffee can taste like.

Offering quality, machine-brewed fare wouldn't exactly be a portent of pernicious change, would it? Other similar towns have seen the light. Both Luis Emilio and Wosvaldo were receptive to my suggestion in any case; it seemed to spark a business idea in them. I hope they don't forget me when the pesos come pouring in.

Death valley

Coming back to natural attractions, outside of the Sierra Nevada treks, there are plenty of walks to other sites that one can wander cost-free and unguided.

One of particular interest is Peñón de los Muertos, Rock of the Dead, seven kilometres to the east of Güicán and a few hundred metres higher.

Here, so the story goes, many U'wa indigenous took the roughly 400-metre suicidal plunge to the River Cóncavo below rather than be taken captive by the Spanish conquistadores. The ultimate flight reaction to a threatening situation.

Fancy a cool dip?! The glacial waters of the River Cóncavo.

Mentioning the River Cóncavo, but not at all in a macabre sense, relaxing by its fast-flowing glacial waters is a nice way to waste away an afternoon, particularly when the sun shines, as it regularly did during my four-day stay.

Indeed, with nobody about, it's perfect for a chilly skinny dip, if it can be braved. It works wonders to clear away any cobwebs.

So you see, you can go your own way in Güicán and have plenty of innocent enjoyment in the process.

Going to see the Sierra Nevada snow show is another matter. It's well worth the extra effort, though.

*Wosvaldo, the owner of the cheap and cheerful Hospedaje Casa Grande and offerer of chauffeur services to the national park, can be contacted by WhatsApp on +57 313 8682814.

**The certified guide Luis Emilio's WhatsApp number is +57 314 2904721. One guide can take up to five people, so going with others is one way to keep costs down, in terms of both paying for the guide and transport to the National Park control point.
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'An alcoholic?! Me?! No way!'

@wwaycorrigan

[For an audio/vlog version of this story, click here.]

A barrio acquaintance, one who is not only very fond of marijuana and the hip psychedelic tusi but has also been a petty peddler of same, called me an alcoholic the other day.

A case of, an outside observer might say, one addict knowing another.

One man's alcoholic is another's merely mild drinker, right?

However, seeing how this acquaintance, in her early 20s, has barely worked a day in her life — outside of her minor drug dealing — and usually appears more out of it than with it, I initially shrugged off her labelling me an alcoholic.

Yet, as an Irishman who likes the occasional beer that often leads to a questioning of my relationship with alcohol, her remark did end up bugging me a little.

'Am I an alcoholic?'

Habit addict

To answer that, we must define what an alcoholic is.

One dictionary definition describes an alcoholic as 'a person addicted to intoxicating drinks.' Another definition is 'somebody who drinks alcohol to excess habitually.'

Those definitions, however, in using words such as 'addicted', 'excess' and 'habitually', are open to much interpretation.

Some commentators and scholars on the subject dismiss the concept of addiction outright. They see it as a mere cover for one's failure to take responsibility.

According to this school of thought, it's not an innate, incurable addiction that's at play but rather a very fixable fixation. It's a harmful habit that can be replaced with a more beneficial — or at least less bad — one. What's lacking is willpower, as well as any real desire to change in many instances.

'That four-day booze-free stint coincided with an annoying head cold. Was my body telling me something? A case of a beer a day keeps colds at bay?'

In other words, people know they're doing something that's not good for their overall well-being but they do it anyway. (Of course, few of us live vice-free — even exercise can become a problem if one overdoes it regularly. Some vices, though, are more damaging than others.)

Mild imbiber

Returning to our definitions of alcoholic, it's easier, at least officially, to find consensus for what excess and habitually mean.

In Ireland, a standard drink is defined as one which contains 10 grams of pure alcohol. The advice is that a man should drink no more than 17 such servings a week, a woman no more than 11.

If one drinks alcohol more days in a week than not, few would argue that this is habitual.

On that last one, despite publishing a few months ago a hopeful post, Abandoning the beer standard, I've been quite the habitual drinker of late.

The longest run I've had without a beer in 2023 has been four days, and that was on one occasion only. Frustratingly, that four-day booze-free stint coincided with an annoying head cold. Was my body telling me something? A case of a beer a day keeps colds at bay?

Plenty of downtime this year and not wanting to be in my shared accommodation for too long at any one time are two big reasons for this regular revelling, tame as it normally is.

What's more, as a pastime, sipping on a Barrio Santandercito tienda beer is a fairly economical activity compared to some other pursuits one could get up to in Bogotá.

As alluded to, in terms of excess, my consumption levels each time I drink are nothing like they were in the past.

Where previously when I would go at it, as we Irish say, I'd have at least four litres of Poker beer or the equivalent, these days I'm usually looking for the exit door after two or at most three. (Do note, Poker's alcohol by volume [ABV] is four per cent.)

So my binge-drinking days do appear to be largely behind me. Compared to other regular drinkers, I think it's fair to put me in the mild category. I'm certainly no Brendan Behan — no sniggering — who described himself as 'a drinker with a writing problem.' Some might say writing is my main problem and I should give that up!

Constant craving

Whatever the case, there is another factor to be considered: cravings.

This ties in with addiction, whether one believes addiction to be a genuine disease or not.

I surmise that people who I consider to be alcoholics crave alcohol, it's constantly in their thoughts. When they get up in the morning, if a beer or whatever was put in front of them, they'd have no issue downing it. What usually prevents such types from doing so is a job commitment or suchlike.

I, on the other hand, rarely if ever desire an alcoholic drink first thing. For me, imbibing has a time and a place — the time is normally late in the evening, the place is a tienda/public house, certainly not my own dwelling.

And as I've already pointed out, I'm more than content to retire to my bed after a couple of litres. Where perhaps in my earlier drinking days I suffered from fomo, fear of missing out, these days I'm more in the jomo, joy of missing out, camp.

So, yes, I do like beer and I may regularly drink more units of alcohol per week than most health experts recommend.

Nonetheless, life in my late 30s doesn't revolve around the next alcohol-fuelled session like it did to some extent in my 20s and early 30s.

Of course, how I feel and what I believe is one thing. How others view me is another. Perception is reality in this regard. Yet, it's only the perceptions and opinions of certain people in my life that I should really value. Others are best ignored.
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