Tight times with no respite in sight

@wwaycorrigan

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

To a man, woman and non-binary individual, practically all Colombians I talk to echo my sentiments that it's been a difficult year income-wise.

Thankfully, there are always a few deals to be found in Bogotá's ubiquitous local fruit and veg shops.

Of course, many people say that their financial situation is tight even if the reality is different. It's usually best not to give the impression that one has a cash cushion to fall back on, especially in Colombia.

Where the stats lie

Zooming out to the national level for a moment and looking at the chief indicators, Colombia's economy, in layperson's terms, can be described as 'doing OK but could do better.' (See https://issuu.com/oecd.publishing/docs/colombia-oecd-economic-outlook-june-2023?fr=sY2U1ZTUwNTY2MTA.)

The official unemployment rate, at just over 10 per cent, is comparable to the average figure in the years immediately before the pandemic. Do note, high informal labour levels have to be factored in when discussing the numbers that are truly unemployed in Colombia.

Whatever the case, such headline figures only give a very rough idea of how things are for the individual. A country's overall economic performance, be it good, bad or mediocre, doesn't mean the entire population is in the same situation.

For sure, high interest and/or inflation rates have a real-life impact. They can alter consumer behaviour in both negative and positive ways.

However, it can be argued that these are less crucial factors in low- to middle-income nations such as Colombia. What I mean by this is that times are almost always tight for the typical working-class barrio resident, particularly in the cities, with rainy-day funds almost non-existent.

Recession proof?

As a single, childless foreigner with a fairly minimalist lifestyle, I am perhaps not the best sample case to study for an idea of how Colombia's current economic performance is affecting the average working-class person.

For one, the high inflation rates that Colombia has been experiencing haven't had a noticeable impact on my cost of living.

'In Bogotá, in my circles in any case, it appears to be a tough time to be an independent worker. Is it ever any other way?'

In the last 18 months, my rent has increased by less than two per cent. What's more, I am actually paying less in rent today than I was in 2020 and 2021. I did, though, change accommodation quite a bit. Also, if I felt a little more financially secure I'd be seeking my own place — I just can't justify the additional cost of such a luxury right now.

As for expenditure on the staples, while some things have got notably more expensive, my weekly spend hasn't shot up in line with inflation. There's always a deal or three to be got at the local fruit and veg shop. One just needs to be flexible with one's diet. 

Scare necessities

It's my earning power, as mentioned in the opening lines, that has waned considerably of late. In this, I may make common cause with my barrio buddies who work independently, mostly in the construction sector. Patience, paciencia, has been our word of the year.

In Bogotá, in my circles in any case, it appears to be a tough time to be an independent worker. Is it ever any other way? Unlike most of my barrio acquaintances, however, one obstacle for me is that I'm a bit too picky about what I want to work at.

My reluctance, nay refusal, to return to English teaching is a major reason why the number of pesos refilling my pocket has plummeted. I've spent more than I've earned in each month of 2023 thus far. This looks unlikely to change in the foreseeable, particularly with a trip to my birthplace in the offing.

Thankfully, I have some savings that are generating a little bit of interest, partially offsetting my monthly losses. However, such financial management, to state the obvious, is unsustainable unless I decide to live rent-free on the street or suchlike.

That yet-to-be-booked journey back to Ireland is an opportunity to reset; it should allow for a thorough reappraisal of my situation.

For various reasons, as I recently explained, such a re-evaluation has been difficult to undertake in my current Bogotá beat. It hasn't been infusing me with energy and enthusiasm — although the city itself can't take all the flak for that.

On the other hand, a return to Ireland scares me somewhat. In my, um, rare angry moments, watching from afar, I see an overpriced, illiberal-liberal, smug state (I thought the English were meant to be the smug ones?). Ireland Inc. is unlikely to be perturbed by such proclamations all the same.

Be that as it may, regardless of where I am in the world I face the same rather disconcerting question: What do I do to not only make ends meet but feel somewhat fulfilled as well? (Feel free to leave your answers to that one in the comments section!)

Leaving behind what has been life on Mediocre Lane in Colombia might just lead me to Awful Alley. Then again, it could be the way to that lesser-spotted Easy Street. Time to set forth and find out while I still can.
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Exacting revenge

@wwaycorrigan

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

In a memorable episode — few were forgettable, in fairness — of the hit 1990s TV sitcom, Father Ted, the no-nonsense, hot-tempered Bishop Brennan gets a kick up the posterior from the comedy classic's title character.

Revenge: It's often best put on the long finger.

Dazed and enraged

Ted was forced into this almost-suicidal shoe of strength after being exposed as a cheat while managing a football team against his arch-rival priest, Dick Byrne. Kicking Bishop Brennan up the arse was the forfeit.

When a near-perfect scenario arises where the deed can be carried out, Ted duly delivers the hit.

Considering the fear he instils in his inferiors, Bishop Brennan can't believe what's happened.

The next few scenes show His Grace in a stupor as he makes his way to Rome for an audience with the Pope. It's only at the Vatican, facing Pope John Paul II, that Bishop Brennan snaps out of this stupor and realises that he did indeed get kicked up the arse.

Cue a rush back to Ireland to confront Father Ted.

A slapstick comedy this show may have been, yet I often find myself referring to it for solace, of sorts. That and the fact that many of its silly scenes accurately reflect real life.

While I haven't been in a stupor to the extent Bishop Brennan was, I have been regularly distracted by thoughts of an episode that has, or at least had, left me disillusioned. (See both The fiendish frenemy and Bogged down in Bogotá for more on that.)

'What had made the rage so acute was the belief that outside of, unwisely, taking matters more firmly into my own hands, I felt rather powerless.'

That the borrower in my previously documented money-lending saga has started to re-engage in the repayment process is helping to lessen the disillusionment.

I did also, à la Bishop Brennan, have my snap-out-of-it moment, the result of which was a verbal attack — or two — on my loanee friend/frenemy. It appears to have cleared the heavy air that had, understandably enough, existed between us, although at the time it seemed like it had finally put an end to any pretence of friendship.

Power struggle

Nonetheless, this whole loan affair has left a sour taste. It's likely to linger for quite a while. What's more, as alluded to, there is still money to be repaid.

Yet, those feelings of rage with an accompanying desire to exact revenge of some sort have dissipated.

What had made such feelings so acute was the belief that outside of, unwisely, taking matters more firmly into my own hands, I felt rather powerless. An omnipotent Bishop Brennan dealing with an unruly understudy I was not.

Sure, the borrower and I had signed a legally binding document but going the legal route to get this money repaid would most likely result in more pain rather than any pay, particularly in Colombia.

The only viable approach I've had throughout, without potentially creating more problems, has been to play the waiting game.

A couple of verbal shots fired in frustration aside, this is largely how I've played it. I have been fairly patient and understanding, if I do say so myself.

However it finally plays out, enough has happened thus far to ensure this money-lending episode will live long in the memory. It's been a kick in the posterior one has to learn from.
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Fattening up our future health problems

@wwaycorrigan

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

What exactly are we putting into our bodies?

Of all the subjects I may be deemed unqualified to comment on, parenting is surely one of them.

It's easy for me, a childless man, to be idealistic, to condemn what I believe to be poor parenting practices and be convinced that I would do things differently, for the better, if I were a father. Let's see how I'd fare if I were, quite literally, left holding my own baby (previous bouts of babysitting don't really count).

Intoxicating toddlers

Nonetheless, these days only the ignorant, indifferent or negligent would let their defenceless newborns regularly consume ultra-processed and/or sugar-laden, unnaturally sweetened foods. Numerous studies highlight the potential harm to our health in such eating.

If the parents want to indulge in unwholesome fare, that's their choice — I am, like many, far from squeaky clean when it comes to what is considered healthy eating. But actively encouraging toddlers to down soft drinks or some candy with an ingredient list the length of a children's book, is both sad and worrying to see.

Why not hand them a cigarette and a bottle of beer while at it? Both are generally less processed in any case.

In a Colombian context, it can be argued that, in some sectors of society, there is a lack of knowledge as to what makes up a good diet. 'Food is food, just get it into ya.'

What's more, even for a well-read individual, there isn't full consensus in the medical/scientific community as to what a healthy diet is. The information available can be quite confusing and, at times, contradictory.

Fake food

Where there is widespread consensus, though, is on the harms of ultra-processed foods. It's generally agreed that whatever we eat, try to eat it as close to its most natural form as possible.

The ideal would be to cultivate your own food, where you control how it's grown or reared. Modern life makes such a scenario next to impossible for most of us.

So we have to try to make the best of a far-from-optimal situation.

I've written before about the abundance of relatively cheap fresh fruit and veg in Colombia. For those of a more carnivorous persuasion, the country is not lacking in that department either. (How pumped full of potentially nasty chemicals all these are is another matter.)

'While fat-shaming is seen as a hate crime by many social justice warrior types, some obese folk, it seems, don't care about themselves.'

Thus, avoiding prettily packaged convenience food shouldn't be a difficult task here. Yet, from what I frequently see in the barrio, the opposite is the case. And if it's good for Mammy and Daddy (if he's present), then it's good for little Juan or Juanita.

One mother, who is surely in the morbid obesity category, seems keen on seeing her youngest become a sugar/sweet/candy addict before he can barely walk.

This is the same mother who I witnessed devouring an 80-gram packet of crisps (or chips, for our North American friends) by pouring — yes, pouring — them into her mouth. Gone, in about twenty seconds. This was within minutes of her having had a substantial meal.

While fat-shaming is seen as a hate crime by many social justice warrior types, some obese folk, it seems, don't care about themselves. OK, maybe there are mental issues at play and I can be accused of making light — or, um, not making light as the case is — of a disease but some people appear to be utterly lazy.

Self-control

Now, as referred to earlier, what adults decide to do or not to do is their business as far as I'm concerned. I'm certainly not advocating for a nanny state to control every aspect of our lives.

People should be responsible for their own actions. In a far-from-free world, eschewing responsibility tends to push one further under the control of other actors. For greater safety and security, misplaced as this often is, it's a case of, 'Into thy hands I commend my spirit.' 

For sure, if whatever one does is illegal, we have mechanisms — questionable or flawed as some are — in place to deal with transgressors.

In this regard, fattening up dependent, impressionable young children with food of little-to-no real nutritional value can be seen as a form of abuse.

It could set in motion dangerous addictions and associated health complications in the years to come. These are problems that will affect society as a whole in the form of additional healthcare costs and a reduction in overall productivity.

So a backseat, point-the-finger parent I maybe, but we all have skin in the game when it comes to humanity's future prosperity. One is simply showing concern and trying to help. Don't devour the messenger.
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In need of some peace and quiet? Sleepy Somondoco is the place to go to

@wwaycorrigan

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

Bucolic bliss. The rural idyll. Like anything that refers to perfection, the reality is different. Nothing in this world is perfect.

What we strive for is to have as many positives as possible in whatever it is we're doing or wherever we're going (both mentally and physically).

Peaceful: Somondoco is as quiet as they come.

What these positives are depend on the individual. When it comes to a break from the routine, a getaway, what works wonders for one may be a bore for another.

Church-hill views

My needs for any escape from Bogotá are minimal. A lot of the time I simply have a desire to leave; the destination is almost of secondary importance.

As long as there's a fairly cheap hotel room and quiet-ish countryside to wander about, I'm usually content. If it's a warm-weather location, having a clean-ish watercourse of some description nearby in which one can bathe in peace whilst taking in some sun is a nice bonus.

To varying degrees, most towns within a 200-kilometre radius of Bogotá meet these rather undemanding requirements.

Of course, no matter how cosy and quiet your setting may be, at some stage loud music will trump the tranquillity. It's practically a rule that where there's a human settlement in Colombia, there are oversized speakers. And there's almost always a crazy canine or two to contend with when out and about, saying nothing of the crazy human folk.

Such drawbacks were, mercifully, in short supply in the town of Somondoco, in the south-east of Colombia's Boyacá department — my default go-to department over the last few years.

OK, it could be said that it has few pull factors, that it hasn't anything particularly appealing to make it stand out from the many other similar Andean towns. That's not fully true.

'Surely the townsfolk will look to bloom big again in the coming years to win back their flower power?'

For one, it has the impressive Santuario del Santo Cristo del Cerro de Somondoco. This ornate, in-renovation chapel sits at an altitude of 2,300 metres, offering views of the neighbouring towns of Guayatá, Guateque, Sutatenza, La Capilla, Macanal and Almeida.

The landscape somewhat obscures the view of Somondoco itself, some 600 metres below. The trek up from the town to the hilltop chapel takes about two hours, a nice way to sweat out any bodily impurities.

Massive mango town

A swift walk down into the Somondao River valley and back up to the town of Guayatá, 10 kilometres west of Somondoco, also gets the body working, as well as allowing one to take in the scenic Andean countryside in relative serenity.

Record town: Guayatá.

While I only stayed a couple of hours in Guayatá, it seemed a little livelier, in a fun way that is, than Somondoco.

More importantly, it has at least one café that makes decent coffee. Somondoco is unfortunately still stuck in the greca era; the brews available there are ordinary at best.

On a quirkier note, Guayatá has been home to two Guinness World Records: It still holds the title for the world's heaviest mango and in 2014 it was registered as having the longest line of flowers ever recorded, a spectacle that can be seen each year in celebration of Corpus Christi. This latter record has since been beaten. Surely the townsfolk will look to bloom big again in the coming years to win back their flower power?

Back in Somondoco, while it won't win any world record for this, the well-kept, modern Hotel Real Simindoco (no, I'm not pronouncing that wrong, it is Simindoco, not Somondoco) is a winner with me with spacious rooms from 25,000 COP per night.

So for a small town within a few hours' drive of Bogotá, Somondoco and its surrounds have many plus points for me.

Quiet, affordable and with a few tranquil treks to traipse. If someone in the town would only ditch those grecas and learn how to make decent coffee. Nothing, though, is perfect after all.
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