Bogged down in Bogotá

@wwaycorrigan

[For an audio version of this blog story click here.]

It's been quite eventful on the news front in Colombia of late, even more so than normal.

Is it time for a long-term break from Bogotá?

We've had corruption allegations leading right up to President Petro that have resulted in some high-profile sackings, as well as the suicide of a police colonel mixed up in the scandal; potentially game-changing reforms to health and pensions have been making their way through Congress; and a new ceasefire with the ELN rebels has come into force as peace talks continue between them and the government.

Personal problems

Outside of grubby politics, the finding of four children lost for 40 days in the Amazon jungle after the plane they were in crashed made headlines around the world. We like a good news story after all (the children, though, do have to deal with the turmoil of losing their mother in that tragedy).

At other times during my more-than 11-year stint based in Bogotá, such stories would have piqued my interest quite a bit, particularly in the guise of a reporter-on-the-ground that I have occasionally been for a couple of foreign media.

It is, however, hard to get too worked up about events over there when one's mind is preoccupied with personal issues that, by their very nature, are more pertinent.

'The enfeebling of what I'd thought were robust relationships moves me closer to the exit door.'

It's why I feel that adults who are sports fanatics — in terms of supporting players and teams, not in the actual playing of sports — must be in an overall comfortable life position. Or they are just a little immature, impressionable and can't wean themselves off the opium high such voyeurism offers. I have, for the most part, grown out of that sports fanatic phase.

For example, should the Irish men's rugby team win the World Cup this year, I'll be very happy for them, but it's extremely unlikely to have any real bearing on my life, negative or positive. And, surprising as this may be, the Irish players are most likely not concerned about the fate of yours truly. If I'm wrong on that, I'll happily take any financial support forthcoming.

As for politics, well a crisis in Colombia could have ramifications for me so I should keep myself informed. And I do, to a certain extent.

As much as I live on the fringes here, something I explained in a previous story, I do have a Colombian bank account and some savings, so I want the peso to be as strong as possible (a return to its 2012 price against the euro would be very welcome!).

Pastures new

However, whether the peso is strong or weak has nothing to do with a frenemy's ability, nay willingness, to repay a substantial loan I gave him. See The fiendish frenemy for more on that.

That deflating episode has only served to add to my uncertainty about continuing to live in Bogotá, an uncertainty that I've had for years.

Now, it's an overstatement to say that firm friendships have been the foundation for my being here, but they do certainly play a part. So the enfeebling of what I'd thought were robust relationships moves me closer to the exit door.

I do think that leaving Bogotá, at least for a substantial period of time, would be good for both body and mind. Having said that, the biggest concerns in my life these days are largely independent of place — apart from the desire to have my own place!

Regardless of where I am, there's always the headache of sourcing paid projects to keep in the black. If I was completely desperate, English teaching would be the fallback in these parts, as it has been before. But as I recently explained, I have little desire for that right now. Who knows, that feeling may change at some stage.

All things considered, a considerable Bogotá break, a change of scenery, seems the smarter option. It's unlikely to be a panacea but it should provide a much-needed energy and enthusiasm boost.
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Listen to The Corrigan Cast podcast here.

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The fiendish frenemy

@wwaycorrigan

[For an audio version of this blog story click here.]

'Keep your friends close, but your enemies closer.'

It's an oft-repeated piece of advice, one that well predates its memorable use by Michael Corleone in the 1974 movie masterpiece, The Godfather Part II. Nonetheless, studies now suggest it's incomplete, in a significant way.

Missing is the deadliest relationship of them all: the frenemy.

'We only give credit to those over 90 who bring a grandparent as guarantor.' Or better yet, f**k off!

A friend in need

As the organisational psychologist Adam Grant, author of Think Again, put it in a recent New York Times opinion piece, 'the most toxic relationships aren’t the purely negative ones. They’re the ones that are a mix of positive and negative.' (Read the article at https://www.nytimes.com/2023/05/28/opinion/frenemies-relationships-health.html.)

In that NY Times piece, Dr Grant cited research by the psychologists Bert Uchino and Julianne Holt-Lunstad that showed how 'ambivalent relationships can be damaging to your health'.

The studies found that those interacting with people who evoked mixed feelings had higher blood pressure and increased heart rates than those interacting with people who evoked negative feelings only. Dealing with frenemies also appears to trigger depression.

I can certainly relate.

My current frenemy situation also ties in with an arguably more important maxim: 'Neither a borrower nor a lender be, for loan oft loses both itself and friend, and borrowing dulls the edge of husbandry.'

While the message is clear in that proverb from William Shakespeare's Hamlet, some of us still get duped into helping out a hard-up friend in need — a friend indeed, of course. They can be ever so convincing.

Yes, the potential borrower is also warned of hardships should he go ahead with the request but experience tells me that it's the lender who ends up, well, more alone, disillusioned and utterly frustrated.

In working-class Colombia in any case, keeping your financial affairs in order is almost viewed as a negative. My previous piece, Rewarding the reckless, elaborates on my latest loan lament. Here I want to share the emotional torment of what must be a prime example of an ambivalent relationship.

'Has it been this frenemy's plan all along to drive me to a state of disillusionment where I'll just give up?'

The friend-fast-becoming-frenemy to whom I lent money continues to tell me that he's good for it. The original repayment deadline was on 15 February of this year. The money was lent on 12 December 2022.

To his, um, partial credit, he has paid back about a third of the principal.

However, over the last few weeks, it's been a case of 'mañana, mañana', 'tomorrow, tomorrow'. He promises me he'll repay the remainder or a portion of it on a certain day yet, thus far, when the appointed day arrives, nothing. Tomorrow never comes.

This constant failure to meet repayment dates — that he himself sets — both disappoints and infuriates me just as much as the fact that he still owes me money.

Toxic

I lent him this cash because we had similar dealings previously. He always paid back — not always on the date originally specified but never more than a month late. So I trusted him. That trust has now been shattered. When it comes to his promises of paying me back on a particular date, I simply can't believe him.

Of course, he has excuses. Chief amongst them is that he isn't getting paid for work he has done. That may indeed be true; it most likely is in these parts.

However, he still has money to socialise regularly and liberally — Bogotá isn't short of freeloaders should one be so obliging. And he can still fuel his car, a car that is far from essential for his work. If he is in hard times, he's putting the sunny side out; and then some.

All this betrays his constant cries that he's 'embarrassed' that he hasn't paid me back yet and that he truly values our friendship. In addition, I have to do the chasing. If he really did see me as a good buddy, should he not be doing his utmost to reassure me that everything will be fine?

For sure, over the last number of years, we have shared many moments that, at face value, point to genuine friendship.

Yet, colder, deeper analysis suggests it has been nothing more than an ambivalent relationship. It just took this incident — plus my reading of Dr Grant's article — to realise its true toxicity.

That I'm keeping it on a life-support machine is solely for the money owed to me. If it was for a lesser amount, I would write it off as a bad debt, cut ties with the borrower and firmly put him in the non-friend category. Right now, I can't afford to do that. The outstanding sum is equal to more than three months' rent for me.

Nonetheless, considering the mental anguish I'm suffering and, as the Uchino/Holt-Lunstad research has shown, the potential physical health damage, I'd probably be doing my overall well-being a favour by putting this upsetting chapter and "chap" behind me.

On the flip side, the thoughts of just letting it go also anger me. Has it been this frenemy's plan all along to drive me to a state of disillusionment where I'll just give up? In that scenario, while many mules might start to submit, I don't want to admit defeat.

Why bother with friends or enemies when you can have frenemies like these? They get closer to you than anyone.
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Listen to The Corrigan Cast podcast here.

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Drink-from-home boozers

@wwaycorrigan

[For an audio version of this blog story click here.]

OK, I'm probably not the best housemate to have. More precisely, I'm closer to being the worst housemate.

Why drink at home when you can have a cheaper tipple in a tienda?

The biggest reason for this is that I wish I didn't have to share accommodation whatsoever. However, I'm forced into such arrangements for financial reasons.

To get my own place in Bogotá, one that isn't like something from the 19th century, that is, I'd have to pay at least double my current rent. Right now, with few paid projects to sustain me, I just couldn't justify such an increase in my expenditure.

Home alone utopia

So, house-sharing is my lot and most likely will be for quite some time to come. I'm not very good, though, at grinning and bearing it. It's more a case of being grumpy and bewailing it.

I get this sinking feeling upon opening the door and realising I don't have the place to myself.

This adverse reaction would be lessened somewhat if I was living with family or very close friends, people who I know well and vice versa. They would understand that my desire not to talk, to keep myself to myself, isn't a hostile act. It's just my disposition, especially when I want to concentrate on something or simply relax.

Having said that, as shared accommodation goes, my current situation isn't too terrible.

For the most part, when I want to cook, my housemates are mercifully not around. They also keep the common areas fairly clean — there hasn't been a need to wage kitchen wars.

Bottle battles

Although, I will never come to terms with this habit of throwing bottles and cans with liquid in them in the bin. Pour the damned liquid down the sink first! Not doing so smacks of extreme laziness. Or just plain stupidity. Or the arguably worse mixture of both.

Indeed, it's liquid-linked affairs that get my blood up the most in my current abode.

While I enjoy the odd tipple, boozing in the place where I cook and sleep has never appealed to me. Even in my student days, I preferred to drink in a public house than stay at home, even if it cost me a little more. And the idea of parties in my residence has always been repugnant to me — well, since adulthood anyway.

You see, contrary to the impression this blog may give, not every action I take has value for money at its heart. If that were the case, in Ireland I would have drunk at home when wanting to get merry. In most high-income nations, drinking out is more expensive than drinking in.

'Rather than get up and, quite literally, face the music and merrymakers, makeshift chamber pots have been found instead'.

As it so happens, in working-class areas of Colombia the opposite is generally true. This suits me perfectly — when it comes to being in a beer-drinking mood that is. If I was trying to cut beer entirely from my life, making it cheaper to down a few at home would be of greater help. In such a scenario, I'd be far less inclined to imbibe. 

So Colombians who otherwise seem fairly frugal, are eager for the best deal, why they drink from home perplexes me (let's use "from home" rather than "at home", in keeping with the work-from-home zeitgeist).

Not only is the alcohol normally cheaper in a barrio tienda bar compared to the supermarkets but there are utility savings to be made as well. Electricity and water use at home comes at a cost.

This cost concern would irk me somewhat if the sum of the utility bills in my current accommodation was divided equally. It's not. My rent is all-inclusive. And not too exorbitant as it is.

Piss-take

It's simply the act of drinking from home that annoys me. There's the additional rubbish from bottles/cans, the smell, the potential that guests are invited and, with that, the ever-present risk of boisterousness.

There's also the fact that it's inescapable. When I've had my fill in a tienda, I want to go home to sleep in peace.

With housemates who drink at home in shared spaces, it's like having to enter a tienda just to get to one's bed. What's more, if the home boozers are merry, they'll invariably try to drag one down with them, to partake in the "fun". Eh, no thanks.

Even a normally mundane matter of going to the toilet becomes a very uncomfortable high-risk mission. 'If I go now they'll try to get me to drink. Surely they'll be finishing up shortly.'

An hour later and they're still at it. 'Will those plastic bags next to my bed hold my urine? Let's see.'

Yes, rather than get up and, quite literally, face the music and merrymakers, makeshift chamber pots have been known to be found.

Thankfully, this worst-case scenario of resident revellers rarely happens in my apartment. Most of the time, the main culprit drinks quietly in his room with his girlfriend, who also happens to be the normally absentee administrator of the property.

On odd occasions, though — at birthdays for one — a jamboree breaks out. A couple of times a year for this tienda-at-home affair is more than enough for me all the same.

Rather than a boisterous bar pad, what I want these days is a benign bachelor pad. I might have to get out of Bogotá to find such an ideal.
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Listen to The Corrigan Cast podcast here.

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