Colombia's tienda trap

@wwaycorrigan

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

Whenever I'm back in Ireland, I make it my business to get some Marks and Spencer chocolate-chip cookies. They are, as far as I'm concerned, the best of their kind around. But while I find them truly delicious, I also know that I shouldn't over indulge in them. Too much of a good thing and all that.

A beer a day keeps the blues away, doesn't it?

So it's just as well that the nearest Marks and Spencer department store is a good distance away from my Irish base. Were there one nearby, I'd be tempted to make these scrumptious sweet treats a daily delight on visits to the land of my birth. Although the price of them these days does help to make one think twice before temptation tends to take over.

Indeed, the price of most things in Ireland gives me pause for thought. My Colombian pesos lose much weight in euro-land, notwithstanding the currency's strong performance during the last few months.

Not-so-dear beer

Back in Colombia, while the price of many staples continues to rise, this hasn't really been the case with beer, especially when one takes the steady increase in minimum wage into account. Compared with other products and socialising pursuits, beer is fairly competitively priced.

'Santandercito's at-times hedonistic haunts do put one's temperance to the test.'

In working-class barrios, such as my current abode of Santandercito in Bogotá's far north, one can get a 750 ml bottle of ordinary-but-fine Costeña — my tipple of choice these days — for 3,800 pesos, the equivalent of about one euro. In comparison, the price of a cinema ticket is around 20,000 pesos — over five times more expensive; a standard lunch in Bogotá, about three times more costly. In fact, Colombia is placed towards the top of the list for countries in the world with the most affordable beer.

So, when at a loose end of an evening and not wanting to be in one's quite cramped, shared place of residence — pretty much an everyday feeling — a couple of beers at the local tienda bar is an appealing option.

Yet, like the Marks and Spencer cookies, I know that it's not the healthiest consumption choice one can make. I do, though, only sporadically indulge in the cookies — that I'm only in Ireland every now and again is a significant help, of course.

In contrast, consuming Colombia's competitively priced beer is a far more regular occurrence. And while I'm usually disciplined in the art of moderate drinking, at times I go over my self-imposed limits. Santandercito's at-times hedonistic haunts do put one's temperance to the test.

I used to think that if I had my own well-equipped place, this tienda temptation would decrease significantly. But experience over the last couple of years has told me differently. I generally prefer to be in a public setting for most of the day — or at least out and about — and while panaderías serve their purpose during the daylight hours, by nightfall tiendas are more appealing.

Downwardly dining

That I can take to the tienda with such regularity is mostly due to the fact that I am single, childless and not an employee. Were any of these to change, then so would, most likely, my late-evening routine.

Right now, I don't see those conditions changing, not organically anyway. Thus, it leads me to sometimes think that I'll have to force the change.

In my recent mini-series on Dr Samuel Johnson, I noted how he advised that one should endeavour to 'smile with the wise, and feed with the rich.' Now, I'm not saying that there are no wise or relatively rich folk in Santandercito's tiendas. For one, intelligence comes in various forms. And there are a fair few in the barrio who seem financially comfortable.

It may be just the case that my current preferences are doing little to advance my cause. One slight problem is that I'm not sure what cause I should be advancing towards right now. It's like I'm caught in a trap. Colombia's tienda trap.
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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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Listen to The Corrigan Cast podcast here.

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Abandoning the beer standard

@wwaycorrigan

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

In Bogotá's perpetual Corner Bar barrio, I explained how a working-class drinking culture permeates the neighbourhood I frequent the most in the Colombian capital. As somebody who grew up in rural Ireland, this is quite familiar to me.

It's best not to overly rely on the beer standard. Diversification is key.

One big difference, though, is that the barrio locals don't appear to have the same complex, schizophrenic-like relationship with alcohol as many Irish have. The barrio boys just drink when they want to drink — which is regularly — without this deep guilt, that nagging question, 'Am I overly reliant on booze?'

Lightweight battle

You see, both in Ireland and abroad, the notion of the heavy-drinking Irish is effectively accepted as fact. An Irishman — or woman, for that matter — who doesn't drink to excess is an anomaly.

Now, as fairly well-travelled, I've found that all historically Christian nations have a drinking culture — some a little more so than others, of course. In fact, according to various studies, Ireland isn't even in the top five globally when it comes to alcohol consumption per capita. Those eastern Europeans are our boozy betters.

Colombia, for the record, tends to be well down the list in such studies. It is, though, far from teetotaler territory.

Comparing myself to my barrio besties, it's safe to assume my weekly consumption is now below the average.

In contrast, back in 2016, when I first started socialising in Santandercito, I had what I now view as a rather immature macho-drinking attitude i.e. I liked being the one downing the most. And, more often than not, I was.

The small problem is that this set a precedent. The barrio buddies came to expect me to drink copious amounts when I "went at it".

This had less to do with the Irish-drinking reputation preceding me and more to do with that initial form.

Thus, my gradual change to not only trying but also enjoying drinking less when I socialise in such environments appears to have taken some acquaintances by surprise. Now, I may be overstating this somewhat. We tend to think that others are judging us on certain behaviours or whatever when in reality they're not.

'While many are generous, these are balanced out by numerous freeloaders. I've frequently spent double what I've actually drunk on nights out.'

There are also the vestiges of the Ireland I grew up in at play here. One would be viewed as a lightweight if he couldn't keep the same drinking pace as "the lads". All things considered, such silliness about boozing is less of a factor in Colombia (although, this isn't to say it doesn't exist at all — where there is bravado and booze it's bound to be present to some degree).

The missing rounds

Nonetheless, the fact that I've been drinking less means some barrio buddies have been seeing less of me. Of course, one can still go out and not drink but I don't consider the barrio tienda as a great place for that. I'm far more content to be in my panadería when I'm not drinking beer.

It must be noted here, it's not that I'm in need of company when I go to such establishments. I'm often happier when left to my own thoughts.

Indeed, as regards the panadería, I usually go there to read and write, so having people talk to me is an annoyance. It's just that I like the idea that I'm "out", that there's movement about me. Spending the majority of my time in the place in which I sleep is somewhat torturous for me. Working from "home" is not something I view as a positive.

Coming back to my overall reduction in alcohol consumption, alongside the health benefits, there's also the financial factor. Not only am I spending slightly less on beer for me, but more significantly I'm also spending less on others.

This is due to the popular "round culture" in Colombia. And while there are many generous folk about, these are balanced out by numerous freeloaders. I've frequently spent double what I've actually drunk on days/nights out.

OK, inviting people to a tipple or two now and again is a nice gesture when one can afford it, but multiple times a month? It tends to put me in a bad mood. And when alcohol mixes with one's bad mood, this often results in quite an explosive cocktail.

So my drinking less which results in spending less — at that moment of socialising anyway — is good for the bank balance, body and mind.

That being said, I'm not quite ready to abandon the beer standard completely. I am, however, loosening my ties to it.
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Hooked on the BBC (or CCP, if you will)

@wwaycorrigan

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

It's often how it goes. A person overcomes one addiction then another, for better or for worse, comes along to fill the void. (For background, see Coming clean on my Colombian.)

Just can't enough of that good old BBC ...

China in my hand

To be truly accurate — as I always strive to be — my current BBC addiction isn't actually new. I more than dabbled in it in my Ireland days. It's just that it has become particularly acute here in Colombia.

I think I'd find it very hard to live in the country, or Bogotá at least, without it. Be it work or pleasure, this BBC or, for those of another tongue, CCP fix has become a cornerstone of pretty much everything I do.

Now some people would say it's not the worst addiction in the world to have, as long as one doesn't rely on it solely. And I don't. I do balance it out.

Nevertheless, one could always do better when it comes to such things. Indeed, a good test to see how reliant — perhaps harmfully so — one has become on something is to try to do without it. On this score, well just the mere thoughts of doing without the BBC for any protracted period make me uncomfortable (protracted in this sense is in the region of 48 hours).

You see the BBC — Beer, Bread and Coffee, or its Spanish equivalent for where I'm based and following alphabetical order, CCP (Café, Cerveza y Pan), not to be confused with the Chinese Communist Party — is a staple for me.

'Some say it's the only time Colombian bread from a standard panadería is edible, when it's still warm from baking.'

It's the bread and coffee part in particular that I can't see myself easily giving up — if there was a desire to do so, that is. The beer, on the other hand, well unlike the other two, it's not a daily delight.

I also think that in the right circumstances and/or environment i.e. having my own comfortable accommodation and not living in Bogotá, I could relatively easily get by without beer. Or at least drink less. Going without bread and coffee is another thing altogether.

This is the problem — some may not view it as a problem per se — when one uses a panadería/bakery as an office on a daily basis. It's like an alcoholic going to work in a pub.

OK, a good coffee or three a day may, as some studies have shown, do more good than harm to one's overall health. The same can't really be said for the bread on the side, not the majority of bread baked in Colombia in any case. (Dr Pradeep Jamnadas wouldn't be impressed.)

'There are, however, worse addictions to have, such as CNN.'

Yet, the floured fusions are hard to resist, especially so when they've just come hot out of the oven.

In fact, some say it's the only time Colombian bread from a standard panadería is edible, when it's still warm from baking. After a day or so, regardless of the type really, it seems to become fairly bland. (Although, worryingly so as it suggests the bread is pumped with preservatives, it doesn't tend to mould.) Similar to some women I've dated here, it could be said.

'I can't believe it's not coffee!'

Regarding my daily coffee, the quality of it in my current "office" is, as far as I'm concerned, as good as you'll get in some of the more renowned establishments. Snootier types, however, might turn their noses up at it. There's an assumption, based on a long history of this being the case in fairness, that panadería coffee is ordinary at best.

The greca: Wanted for crimes against good coffee. (Image from https://laferiadelagreca.com.)

Thankfully, though, a good number of panaderías have embraced machine brewers, consigning those metal grecas with their tendency to produce tasteless, I-can't-believe-it's-not-coffee coffee to the scrapyard. (Personally, this has become more important over the last few years as my brew preferences have changed. It's no longer an 80/20 coffee/milk split, it's more like 99/1. Thus, the coffee has to be flavoursome and strong.)

As for the beer, well Poker — or on occasions Águila or Costeña or, when in Paisa land, Pilsen (they're all pretty much the same) — could win awards for being one of the best and reasonably priced mediocre lagers around. It humbly does its job.

In this regard, like the BBC media group and the political CCP my BBC — the beer and bread anyway — is of ordinary quality. Perhaps not the greatest but not the worst either.

It's also killing me softly, no doubt. Sure aren't we on the countdown to death from the moment we're born anyway?

There are, however, worse addictions to have.

With CNN — cocaine, noodles and Nutella — for instance, one is left brain-dead within days. That diet combination may seem nonsensical. But that's CNN for you.
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What ales you?

This blog generally stands up for the underdog, those very much up against it. Well, this is certainly the case when it comes to social classes and the sporting arena.

It tends to be less so, however, when price comes into play. That is to say, value-for-money is the motto and very often, at this moment in time anyway, that leads to quantity over quality, wherever it can be found.

Poker: A Colombian beer 'giant'. (Image from Facebook.)

Now, it must be said that a lot of the time in Colombia, especially in relation to food, buying from the local vendors or producers is cheaper than going to the big national and multinational "monsters", in terms of grocery shopping and restaurants that is.

In that way, I still feel like I’m helping the little guys eke out a living. It’s usually the reverse in the developed world when it comes to buying food or eating out; getting it at lower prices typically means visiting the bigger chains.

As regards another recurring expense, one listed in the socialising category, it’s somewhat different. 

In the consumption of beer, the Colombian masses — as well as this writer, on the odd occasion — drink the mass-produced stuff. Well over 90 per cent of this market is in the hands of Bavaria, a Colombian company originally but now part of the global SABMiller group.

Thus, downing any of the Bavaria beers — from the cheaper (and slightly weaker) Aguila, Costeña, Pilsen and Poker to the somewhat fancier Club Colombia – is, in a sense, supporting a "monstrous" multinational.

Yet, these beers are readily available in the many little privately owned tiendas (bars-cum-shops) throughout Colombia. 

Plus, the more impoverished the barrio, the cheaper you’ll find the drinks. In this way, by going to such locations and having a few Bavaria-produced beers you’re supporting the poorer populations, pumping additional (little as it may be) money into the micro economy.

Bogotá Beer Company: Interesting initials.

On the flip side, you have the Bogotá Beer Company (BBC), which brands itself as ‘the biggest small brewery in Colombia’ (‘la cervecería pequeña más grande de Colombia’ in Spanish). Up against Bavaria/SABMiller, in terms of overall market share, it barely registers a beat.

So, in theory, it falls into the category of those I like to support. However, its market is quite removed from your typical bargain-basement Bavaria beer drinker. 

It only sells its produce – at a far greater price than the likes of Costeña or Poker – in its own pubs, more upmarket establishments and a couple of supermarket chains. You're talking about a more exclusive product, out of the daily reach of the majority of Colombians.

The BBC will point to what it sees as its superior quality and more artisanal approach in brewing compared to Bavaria. That may be so, but when it comes to letting the hair down, a fine ale retailing at least five times more than a mass-produced lager tends not to be the most attractive option.

What's more, it's not like those cheaper beers are unpalatable; on the contrary, they're rather agreeable to the taste buds.

In one regard, you might say choosing the Bavaria beers is supporting the simple over the sophisticated. And we could all do with toning things down every now and again, especially around this time of year.

Now, where did I leave that Macallan fine and rare?

'Make mine a shot (rather than pot)'

Colombia’s Minister for Health and Social Protection, Alejandro Gaviria, created a mini-stir recently by claiming that alcohol consumption was more harmful than smoking marijuana.

His remarks come amidst moves in Congress here to legalise the use of the drug for medical purposes.

Well, they do say we should get more 'greens' into us ...

Mild marijuana

In one sense, it’s a bit puzzling to understand why what he said caused consternation in some circles; in reality, it was far from shocking. For from a societal point of view, he’s probably not far off the mark. Excessive alcohol consumption is very often at the heart of violence both here in Colombia and across the globe. It can destroy families and friendships.

In contrast, you’d do well to find an aggressive person high on pot; rather, such people are generally very placid.

So looking at it that way, if we are going to indulge in some sort of drug, perhaps we’d all be better off smoking marijuana instead of gulping down bottles of beer. ‘Make peace, not war’ and all that jazz.

However, at the individual level, anecdotally anyway, regular pot smokers tend to be quite lazy and lack motivation to do even the simplest of things. Maybe that’s just my bad luck and experience? There are, though, at least some supporting studies.*

On the contrary, and again this is a personal observation, consistent drinkers – not out-and-out alcoholics that is to say – seem more proactive when it comes to work and day-to-day activities. (They might just be a little crankier than non-drinkers, at times.) It could be argued that this is down to many societies’ long association with alcohol. Our bodies have learnt to cope better with it than other drugs.**

What’s more, the idea of consciously inhaling damaging fumes into your body isn’t exactly the most natural or life-prolonging thing to do. Although, in a city such as Bogotá, puffing on a joint mightn't do you much more harm than breathing in the urban air.

On the other hand, we all must ingest water to survive, the chief component of most alcoholic products. Plus, in the right amounts – as can be said for marijuana, too, of course – the likes of beer and wine can be beneficial for your health.

Bavaria, the home of beer in Colombia. Sure when it's free ...

That’s pretty much the case for most things in life: Whatever you’re having, have it in moderation; 'less is more’. Knowing your limits is the key.

Bearing all that in mind, if I was pushed to choose either alcohol or marijuana as my regular vice, I’d be firmly siding with the former.

It's horses for courses, I guess.

The bottom line with all these things should be that if there are harmful effects, it's the individual user who bears them. Alas, that's not always the case.

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*For example, see Regular pot smokers have shrunken brains, study says.

**The Koreans obviously don’t believe this though: ‘Irish alcoholism nature’ reason for job rejection for Irish teacher in South Korea.

Bogotá's simple pleasures II: "Up the hill", "Nazi" and free beer

We’ve written before about the simple pleasures that we enjoy here in Bogotá.* In the last half year or so there have been two important additions to that list to which we must give due mention. Indeed, considering the time and money we’ve spent (well spent that is, most of the time) in both locations it would be remiss of us not to pay them homage.

They both fall into the tienda bar category – that is cheap-and-cheerful, rough-and-ready places to consume a few beers. Perhaps it’s an Irish trait, but no matter where we are in the world we always like to find a place (or two) we can call our local.

Elusive Lucio – keeping the beer flowing.

Initially, here in Bogotá’s La Candelaría district, we stumbled upon the popular, fairly reasonably priced Doña Ceci’s. It fulfilled its purpose for a while, but after devoting a nice chunk of time to the place, it became a little disappointing that we remained just another number, another ‘foreigner with money’ to the rather cold, tacaña owner. 

We don’t demand a lot, but a little appreciation and recognition from time to time that we’re good customers wouldn’t go astray – what a local should, at the very least, be about. Alas, with Doña Ceci, this was never forthcoming.

However, the tiendas where we now like to relax at the weekends (and the odd weekday) score high on those points and more. Both places are such bog-standard, Colombian drink holes that they don’t even have a name – at least not an obvious one that we’ve noticed. Thus, we’ve had to christen them ourselves (and regularly continue to wet the baby’s head at that).

So there’s Up the hill due to its location which is, predictably enough, at a bit of a higher altitude than where we live, on the borders of the supposedly not-that-safe barrios of Egipto and Belén south of the city centre. 

Then there’s Nazi bar which, perhaps not so predictably, has nothing to do with – in any meaningful sense anyway, as far as we’re aware or concerned – the fascist movement that found its home in Germany in the 1930s and 40s. 

It’s been dubbed that because the very affable twenty-something-year-old owner, Lucio, has for some reason that we’ve yet to ask him, a faint swastika tattoo on his hand. Considering he doesn’t exactly resemble nor have the ethnic background of a typical Nazi, we like to think that the symbol for him represents one of its non-violent meanings – ‘to be good’.

In any case, actions speak louder than words (or symbols) and Lucio has only ever been a complete gentleman to us. Indeed, of late he has adopted the Irish custom of the lock-in after hours. A free grande (that’s a 750ml bottle of beer, Poker being our preferred option) on our birthday was also very much appreciated. Small things, but they make a difference. 

Now, while Nazi’s grandes are a tad more expensive than our other local (3,000 pesos versus 2,500 pesos or €1.20 compared to €1 if you like – every little helps) Lucio’s friendly demeanour and appreciation to have us as patrons (how privileged he is) more than makes up for that. It also must be said he does benefit from a location advantage – he’s just a stone’s throw away from our residence.

Fun & games Up the hill. Is there anybody serving, though?

As for Up the hill, while the cheaper beer may have been the initial strongest pulling point, the treatment we receive, not just from the extremely friendly Paisa-blooded** owners and staff but the other Bogotáno regulars who drink there too, means that we feel bad if we don’t make a visit at least once a week.

Indeed, the chief owner is almost like a mother figure to us – in a good sense, that is. Not only was there free beer for our birthday, but a cake to boot. As for the other revellers who frequent the place, it’s rare we leave without getting at least one free drink landed on our table; all this from one of the city’s "poorer" regions, especially so when compared to the exclusive north.

So much have these places become what you might call our home from home, the constant salsa and vallenato music that’s played in them is almost becoming likeable for us. We’ve even been known to do a spot of salsa-ing once we’re merry enough (for a greater discussion about our Colombian dancing exploits, see http://bit.ly/S7A8eS).

All that’s missing in both places are a few prettier chicas from time to time – perhaps the ones that generally frequent the plush north could visit, just leave the attitude and arrogance at home. We can dream, can’t we?

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*'Bogotá's simple pleasures' http://bit.ly/Uzc3lk.

**Paisa is the name given to a person hailing from north-west Colombia, specifically the departments of Antioquia, Caldas, Quindío and Risaralda.