wiki.com/nijmegen

My middle school teachers always used to tell me not to trust Wikipedia. So, I've decided to make my own entry based solely on my personal experience in Nijmegen. Here's all you need to know (and, coincidentally, everything I've learned) about this city. To learn more, I recommend going to Wikipedia.

Nijmegen                                                       
Nijmegen, (pronounced, more or less: NIGH-may-hen), is a little known city near the eastern border of the Netherlands, just a stone's throw away from Germany. Although very few Americans have heard of Nijmegen (or can pronounce it properly), it is acclaimed internationally (at least in Europe) as the home of Radboud University and the host of the annual Four Days Marches, held every July. Nijmegen has a population of about 160,000, a sizable percentage of whom are full-time students.  The city claims to be the oldest in the Netherlands, but a little digging reveals that Maastricht, way down in the southern part of the country, is older. Archaeological evidence to prove Maastricht's seniority is inaccessible, buried under present-day homes and streets. No doubt, however, that Nijmegen is still really, really old -- at least 1,000 years. 

Panorama of Nijmegen

_____________________________
           Contents
1. History
2. Topography & Climate
3. Transportation
     3.1 Trains & Buses
     3.2 Bikes
     3.3 Cars
4. Culture
     4.1 The Arts
     4.2 Nightlife 
     4.3 Fitness
5. The Four Days Marches
6. Education
7. People
     7.1 Language
     7.2 Attitude 
8. Portrayal in the Media
9. References
_____________________________

History                                                       
With at least 1,000 (but probably more) years under its belt, Nijmegen has been through a lot. Remains of castles and strongholds can be spotted in a few locations around town. Evidence of a retaining wall which once protected the city's center until the late 19th century can be found by following the sloped streets -- and by looking at large, clearly marked restorations. 

More recently, things took a nasty turn in Nijmegen during World War II. When Allied bombers attempted to push the Germans back into Germany, they mistook Nijmegen for a German city and laid siege to it. Countless buildings were destroyed; numerous historic homes, churches, etc. were razed. As a result, architecture in Nijmegen today features a healthy mix of classic and contemporary style. 

Topography & Climate                             
By Dutch standards, Nijmegen is very hilly. For this reason it made an appealing spot for strategic city founders. Today, those hills are the bane of many of the city's bikers. The majority of Nijmegen's residents live within a few kilometers (or a couple miles) of the City Center. The city is quite sprawling, however, and there are very few high-rises. Nijmegen boasts an impressive park-to-person ratio.  

Inside a Nijmegen Park

Because it lies in the northern half of Europe, farther from the equator, during summer months the sun is almost always shining. Most nights last from only about 10pm (sunset) until around 4am (sunrise). Average temperatures tend to be cooler than in the North Eastern United States. Many Nijmegenaars complain during the hotter, more humid days. In the Fall, Winter, and Spring there is also weather. 

Transportation                                           
       Trains & Buses
The train and bus system in Nijmegen is based out of the center station, aptly named Centraal Station. Most the trains running through the station are destined for other cities. A network of tracks also snakes through Nijmegen. Like other Dutch railways, Nijmegen's trains are very punctual and plenty of people take them. (For information on Nijmegen buses, see Bus Comparison.) 

      Bikes
The Netherlands has 2.5 bikes for every person and in Nijmegen there are plenty to go around. Nijmegen is a cyclist's paradise: every road has a designated bike lane; there are traffic lights catered specifically to bikers; all intersections have a "green light" button for bikers to push that will influence the light cycle; bikes have the right of way over automobiles, pedestrians, and other bikes. A high volume of bikes also results in a high volume of of bike-thefts. Nijmegenaars who wish to keep their bikes lock them in bike racks, some of which are two-stories high. A special police bike-traffic control unit periodically hauls off unlocked bikes. Because of the risk theft and damage, almost all cyclists buy their bikes used. 

     Cars
Nijmegen's roads also allow for the driving of automobiles. Cars can be found driving both to and fro. Owning a car in Nijmegen is very expensive; almost no students own cars. 

Culture                                                      
      The Arts
Nijmegen attracts an impressive range of musical talent, especially for a city of its size. During the Four Days Marches in particular, the city in inundated with music [link]. A few theaters offer live performances. A number of cinemas feature mainstream new-release movies; at least one art house features cult-classics and experimental films. Less noisy art forms such as painting, sculpture, and urban murals also can be seen throughout Nijmegen. 

      Nightlife
As a "student city," Nijmegen maintains a vibrant nightlife. Established destinations include any number of bars and clubs. Party people both young and old can also be found drinking in parks or on their front porches. Radboud University has its own on-campus bars. Unfortunately for the youngest Nijmegenaars, the Netherlands raised the minimum drinking age from 16 to 18 in early 2014. 

Also present in Nijmegen are "Coffee Shops," which do not, as their name suggests, focus on selling coffee, but rather on legal marijuana. Dutch laws concerning marijuana sales are murky. The official ruling is a tacit acceptance of its use. Due in part it its legality, marijuana consumption is markedly less popular in the Netherlands than it is the United States. 

     Fitness
Nijmegenaars are serious about their physical health. There are more fitness centers in Nijmegen than there are McDonald's. Outdoor fitness classes can be spotted doing calisthenics in public parks in broad daylight. 

The Four Days Marches                           
Almost in its centennial year, The Four Days Marches (in Dutch, Vierdaagse Afstandsmarsen), is the city's biggest event of the year [link]. Over 40,000 people from dozens of countries sign up to complete the marches: four straight days of 40 to 50km of walking. Army units and geriatrics comprise the majority of marchers, as they have the most time to train. Other age groups and professions get in on the fun as well. 

Surrounding the event itself is an elaborate, citywide party which starts the Saturday night before marches begins and ends the following Friday night. During every day and night of this seven day festivity, Nijmegenaars and visitors flood the city center for free music, dancing, an array of international cuisines, kid-friendly entertainment, adult beverages, carnival rides, and creatively decorated public restrooms. 

Fireworks just hours before the marches begin

The marches and the parties do not solely function as a fundraiser nor do they have one beneficiary. The marches go on for the sake of marching. The parties go on for the sake of partying. 
   
Education                                                  
Attending school in Nijmegen, as with other Dutch cities, is compulsory. Students test into one of seven "tracks" at a fairly young age, around the beginning of high school. Although there is room for movement from one track to another, only the most academically inclined students -- those in the top track -- can go on to a university. Others will graduate en route to a college. Still others will be go on to vocational training. Some will graduate and then spend time taking advantage of the Netherlands' generous welfare system. 

Universities in the Netherlands are not free for Dutch citizens, but are fairly affordable. Government subsidies are available to most students. Nijmegen is host to Radboud University, one of the most prestigious institutions in the country. Many Dutch students earn bachelor degrees at Radboud. The university also boasts many masters and doctoral programs. Germans come across the nearby border in droves to study at Radboud University. The campus is large, modern, and well maintained. Radboud has an excellent linguistics programming spanning across multiple labs, including the Max Planck Institute for Psycholinguists [link]. Research opportunities for international students abound, especially during summer months. 

People                                                      
      Language

The dominant language in Nijmegen is Dutch. Nearly all Nijmegenaars are bilingual or better, with English being the most popular second language. Many departments at Radboud University function in English. For foreigners attempting to order food or buy a bus ticket, there are no shortages of Dutch to English translators available. For foreigners attempting to learn Dutch, there is little hope. Besides some common ancestry and certain cognates, Dutch and English are not mutually intelligible. Dutch people are the first to declare that Dutch is difficult to pick up. Dutch people are also the first to switch into English when a foreigner is struggling, e.g. trying to order a "pizzadag," which is not a food, but a promotion meaning "pizza day." 

     Attitude

Stereotypically, Dutch people, including residents of Nijmegen, are friendly, helpful, and humble. The Netherlands has a comparatively small wealth gap and this is evidenced by only slight differences in Nijmegen home sizes. Dutch culture promotes the idea of social equality and scoffs at the notion of showboating or putting on airs. A famous Dutch saying ("Doe maar normaal, dan doe je al gek genoeg.") translates literally to "Just act normal, then you're acting crazy enough as it is!" which translates to "Even though you're weird, it's better to just roll with it."

Throughout history, outsiders have also voiced their opinion on Dutch culture. In the early 1600s, the Japanese interpreted Dutch forthrightness and lack of social hierarchy as a lack of social grace, suggesting that "Where a Dutch person has walked, not even grass will grow." However, there are acres (and hectares) of grass growing in Nijmegen.


Portrayal in the Media                          
Mainstream American media has not heard of Nijmegen. However, Dutch culture in general has been a punching bag for the uninformed. Movies and TV shows in the United States have poked fun at the Netherlands for decades. 

Examples of Dutch-shaming:

• A 2011 episode of South Park referenced a farcical Dutch folk song about American musician Slash called Vunter Slaush.
• The character played by Portia De Rossi in the short-lived show Better Off Ted repeatedly besmirched the Netherlands.
• The 2002 movie Austin Powers in Goldmember featured a Dutch character who proclaimed the notion that he was "from Holland" was "weird."

References                                             
      1. Magerman, Daniel. "Two Months in Nijmegen." A unwritten short story. 
      2. Google Translate: https://translate.google.com/#nl/en/ 
      3. Cranendonk, Tristan. A walking tour of Nijmegen. 

Four Weeks In...

Four weeks into PIRE have brought with them plenty of opportunity to develop our research from Palenque. Just last week, Mary Beth, Mindy and I were honored with the chance to present our findings to the LinC research group. Our presentation was preceded by two other presenters focused on attitudes towards East Asian heritage languages in the Netherlands. Afterwards, the three of us outlined our experiences conducting field research in rural Colombia, our specific projects, and our progress with analysis so far in Nijmegen. The questions and feedback from the room were exceptionally helpful. One visiting scholar, Dr. Kofi Yakpo from the University of Hong Kong, shed some particularly interesting light on perceptions of creole languages. Also, we had our first chance to meet our advisor at Radboud, Dr. Pieter Muysken. Dr. Muysken holds a laundry list of international achievements, but was excited to sit down with three undergraduate researchers. In the coming days, we'll have further opportunities to speak with and learn from Dr. Muysken as we continue analysis and start early drafts of our write-ups.

Four weeks into PIRE have also brought with them the temptation to draw comparisons. Colombia and the Netherlands might both be ideal locations for linguistic intrigue, but the two countries are vastly different. Perhaps no place are these differences more pronounced than when using public transportation. Leaving Cartagena by bus might as well be a ride to another planet next to a comparable journey leaving Nijmegen.

Guess which one is which.

Nijmegen, the Netherlands

DISCLAIMER: The following post and — unless I indicate otherwise — all posts for the rest of the summer will be written for and published on the Penn State Center for Language Science site. Because NSF money is paying for this research trip and the medium is a scholastic one, my writing will exclude some of the less than academic activities I’m undoubtedly going to get into; I have to keep it G-Rated. Nevertheless, I’ll try to keep it from getting too dry. Happy reading! 

 ~~~

First off, right out of the gate, as a budding linguist it seems appropriate to share that the city is pronounced NIGH-may-hen (and depending on what part of the country you’re from there’s some variation with the final “-gen”), but never a hard “j” in “Nij-.” And that’s about the entirety of my knowledge of Dutch. As many Dutch people have told me, the Dutch enjoy speaking English and can occasionally be impatient with foreigners attempting to practice Nederlands (or how the Dutch say “Dutch” in Dutch).  These interactions have happened of course, in English. Besides those minor and predictable linguistic differences, I have only good things to say about the people I’ve met so far — in English or any other language. I’ve been in the country for about a week and half now, living (until tomorrow, actually) in a rented room of a wonderful host named Wibe (try pronouncing that one) near Nijmegen’s city center. Beginning my stay off of Radboud University’s campus has given me license to conduct a self-guided biking tour of the surroundings. What I’ve found are markets and parks and churches and trees and gardens and bridges with cityscapes and beaches and all of this appears almost impossibly beautiful. After we Americans accidentally bombed Nijmegen in World War II, mistaking it for a German stronghold (it IS very close to the border — whoops), the Netherlands’ oldest city had some cleaning up to do. And clean up they have. Old architecture and new, impressive infrastructure make Nijmegen a very nice place to live. 

view from the bridge into town

The bike ride to campus isn’t too bad on the eyes either. So far at Radboud the majority of my work has been independently transcribing and coding the data I collected in Colombia. I have, however — alongside my fellow field-researchers Mary Beth and Melinda — attended some meetings with presentations by members from labs with names spelled in colorful acronyms: LinC, CLS, MPI, and BRC. Just yesterday, the three of us were invited to a PhD dissertation defense, here called by the more friendly title, a “promotion.” The event was held in a cosy auditorium on Friday afternoon. The candidate walked to the front with her two advisors. Suddenly, a bell sounded and room silenced. We were instructed to stand as a procession of important-looking people paraded from the doors adorned in the garb of the tradition of Middle Ages academia. In other words, they were wearing wizard robes. (Here is an article with a more thorough description, plus pictures!)  The “examiners” asked the candidate questions about her work, mostly as a formality; she’d already made the grade. Although I didn’t quite catch the portions presented in Dutch and Latin, after sitting through the ceremony and watching the new doctor of linguistics attach those three magic letters to her name, it was impossible not to get chills. 

There's more a'coming. So, keep your eyes peeled for the next post from the Netherlands.

You Know You're In Palenque When...

I promise this is my last post about Colombia.  After almost a week at home, some of the differences between here and there have become even more pronounced -- pronounced enough for me to compile a list. When you're living in a Philadelphia suburb, none of these things happen.

BUT, you know you're in Palenque when...

...chickens, pigs, cats, dogs, turtles, frogs, and toads casually stroll in and out of houses' open doors. (There are also plenty of horses, donkeys, goats, roosters, turkeys, strutting around town.)
...men commonly have more than one wife. (And the most important/prolific men have more than two.) These wives rarely live in the same house.
...you can spot an entire family rolling around town on one motorbike -- and the bike is being driven by a 15 year old girl.
...little old ladies and young men blast champeta from their homemade sound systems for ten hours a day.

...locals are genuinely concerned when you tell them you've been drinking the water (but it's totally safe).
...all three "restaurants" in town don't have a menu, but simply ask "pollo, carne, o pescado" (or "cerdo" if you're lucky).

...you never tip for anything (actually, this is true everywhere in Colombia) and you can pay whenever -- even days later. Finances aren't often discussed.
...indoor toilets are rare and indoor plumbing is pretty much non-existent. (The seldom seen western cammode is flushed by dumping a bucket of well-water into the bowl.)
...it's seen as totally normal and acceptable for women to have babies as young as 13 years old. Grandparents and other family members will watch after the kids until their moms are done with school. (This is not quite the same environment as "16 and Pregnant.")
...you can buy moonshine tequila called ñeke for 2,000 pesos (about $1) a bottle.
...every guy's favorite American musician is 50 Cent (and many gals love the Bieber).
...it's really hard to guess someone's age because of how youthful and healthy most everyone looks. (I thought a 38 year old man with 4 kids was 24. His mother is 88.)

...the people around you rarely get worked up over anything and never seem to be in a rush. It's always, "here, sit. Sit!" Even if you're just passing through.
...everyone says "bueeenaaaas" (good morning, good afternoon, or goodnight).
...on the hill, just behind your house are these trees:

and then this view, overlooking Palenque:

--------------
for more photos from Palenque, click here.
and here are some more from Cartagena. 

Palenque (parte tres)

Midday runs hot here. In fact, I’ve found the best thing to do to avoid the sun at high noon is nothing at all: sit in the shade with a good book or a good friend and good fan, if you can. Also, on occasion — three or four occasions during the past week since I last wrote — a torrent of rain, lighting, and thunder will break the humidity and bring the temperature down. Then, of course, you have to contend with the muddy roads and the inevitability of getting a flip-flop stuck. With the help of my guide and research assistant, Alberto, I learned to navigate the mud patches like a local. 

But, of course, I’ve learned much more than how best to remain cool and mud-free. Not too long after lamenting about how tough it was to communicate, I began to fall into the rhythm of this place. With Alberto, I started the process of conducting official, investigative interviews which included both qualitative and quantitative questions. Despite my self-consciousness with real-world Spanish, my guia (Spanish for guide) and I communicated (and still communicate) just fine. Beyond matters of research, we bond over language: Alberto teaches me snippets of Lengua and I help him with his English. The interview process has been over since Tuesday (when I ran out of cash to pay participants), but Alberto and I covered a lot of ground and gained some good insight about Palenque’s neighbors. In five days — not including Saturday and Sunday, skipped in part because of the annual Mango Festival in Malagana — Alberto and I spoke with residents in the surrounding communities of Palenquito, Malagana, San Cayutano, and La Pista (just outside of San Pablo). I’ll wait to analyze the data until I get to the Netherlands because it’s hot here (did I mention that?) and also…

"This is not a lab; this is a town.” Alberto was not just a guide; he’s my friend. Our small group of American researchers have made other friends too. Jorge, Jeiner, Lawin, Ronan: ma kumbilesa suto — our friends, in Lengua. The linguistic situation on the ground here is fascinating, but so is the ground itself. Palenque is an absolutely unique place with remarkable people. I’ve never been in a town where every house has an open door policy that applies not only to animals but to people. Everyone is treated as a neighbor even when you come from halfway across the hemisphere. Palenqueros are quick to smile and greet passersby, saying ¡buenas! any time of day. I quickly got swept up in this neighborly, friendly way of life. There’s gonna be some culture shock back in Elkins Park when every car doesn’t slow down to waive hello and pigs don’t scuttle across the street. More culture shock when I stop eating breakfast, lunch, and dinner homemade from scratch with the freshest imaginable ingredients, oftentimes plucked straight out of the backyard. We have Anna — the mom of the house we’re living in — to thank for most of those delicacies (actually just typical fair for Palenqueros), and her husband, Bernardino — our host for the duration and one of Palenque’s most prominent teachers — to thank for making every other arrangement run smoothly. We’ll miss them come next week. And me? I won’t miss the splotchy red color my feet turn covered in mosquito bites, but I’ll sure miss Palenque.

On Saturday, Mary Beth, Mindy, and I will hop on motorbikes, and then on a bus, and then on another bus to return for one more night at the Mama Waldy Hostel in Cartagena. Just as I’m starting to pick up some Lengua, tune my ears to the rural Spanish dialect, and earn some street-cred playing soccer with Palenqueros, it’s time to head out.  Sure, at home I’ll get a proper shower and the bug bites will fade, but when’s the next time I’ll get to call out buenas?

Palenque (parte dos)

As it turns out, Palenque has more in common with camp than a remote location and inspiring excitement. It’s day three here and I’m still excited. Much like Pinemere, everyone in Palenque knows each other, but instead of 300, there are 3,000 people (at least). People in Palenque are incredibly welcoming and generous (not unlike Pinemere). And, the little kids will love you if you throw them up in the air and play their game of human tug-of-war (yep, another similarity). It’s rustic too — though probably less so than camp. And there are animals everywhere — horses, donkeys, goats, pigs, dogs, cats, hens, roosters, turkeys, lizards — and Pinemere DID used to have a goat, a few dogs, and the occasional bear. However, at Pinemere, the food wasn’t nearly as delicious as it here. The freshly squeezed and chilled fruit juices weren’t as satisfying and difficult to pronounce as in Palenque. The temperature never hovered around 90 degrees (with 100% humidity) in Stroudsburg. And I never attempted linguistics research at Pinemere. That’s where the comparison ends. 

I will admit here, publicly, that this is challenging. I don’t mind showering with a bowl and well water, waking up at the crack of dawn to roosters crowing, or sweating sitting still. This place is absolutely beautiful and so are its people. So what, there’s no air conditioning? Palenqueros’ generosity, insightfulness, and friendship more than make up for a lack of certain creature comforts. The challenge is the constant reminder of what I’m missing. It turns out that a high school and college Spanish education will only take me so far when dealing in Coastal Colombian Castellano mixed unpredictably with Lengua Palenquera. As I talk to more and more people and begin some interviews, I get hit over and over with this dose of reality: if I thought I was close to fluent, the truth is I am far from it. Sure, I can communicate essentials. I can learn. I can ask thoughtful questions. I can navigate complicated topics. But, it has to be on my terms. When a Palenquero or a group of locals diverges from our conversation — or simply starts up with vocabulary I’ve never been exposed to — in some mix of Spanish and Lengua, I am lost. 

During nearly every interaction, I know I’m missing out on something fascinating and it’s painful. Here I am, this student coming all the way from the States to research language, and half the time I’m stuck. At best I’m a lame duck, at worst, a burden. Nonetheless, I have to embrace the process. This is new to me — not Spanish, but this clash of languages and dialects and cultures. Of course I’m not throwing in the towel after 72 hours. It’s just time for a new one — one that I’ve cleaned out back, after shooing the pigs away from the hose. 

Palenque

Out of town and into country, five of us split into two cars. They are simple, older, but well kept sedans with highly capable drivers. It feels like star treatment after some of our other recent forms of transportation. We depart Cartagena and head south. The landscape changes from urban to industrial to — passed out in the back seat, I’m not sure — to bucolic countryside. Trees and farms and rolling hills dominate both sides of the road. 

Eventually, we take a right and the pavement gives way to dirt: “6km: San Basilio de Palenque,” a sign reads. I’m fully awake now. We’re flanked by square, cylinder block homes and more of the same countryside, but more densely dotted with foliage. At this point, I’m getting that feeling I used to get in the back seat of my parents car, driving up through Stroudsburg, PA on the way to Pinemere — camp jitters. This is nervous excitement. I’ve been hearing about and studying this place for over a year. All those stories John told us. The dirt turns to pavement. All the YouTube clips we’ve watched. The elevation is steadily rising. Months and months of preparation. My stomach is in knots — it’s not the arepa I had for breakfast. 

There’s no new sign, no change in surroundings, but it’s clear now that the driver has slowed down; we’ve arrived in San Basilio de Palenque.  A town established by escaped slaves.  The home of Lengua Palenquera. A beacon for linguists. Our home for the next two weeks. The place where we’ll do our experiments to try to understand better the bilingual mind. But this is not a lab; this is a town. These are not volunteers in the basement of some building in State College; these are people going about their daily lives. We’re not only here for science; we’re here to learn about Palenqueros — to learn about ourselves. Language doesn’t matter if there aren’t people to share it with.

Why Am I Here?

At this point, if you’re still reading you might be wondering why I chose to ship off to Colombia, picked Cartagena to hang out in, and left during Penn State’s finals week, all seemingly at random. The truth is, this trip has been in the works since August when I first sat down in with Dr. John Lipski, a prominent professor in the Spanish, Italian and Portuguese Department in University Park. John, sometimes affectionately referred to as the Indiana Jones of Linguistics, has been traveling to remote locations, dealing in exotic languages, and narrowly avoiding ancient booby traps for the past few decades. In his lab, along with two other undergrads, Mindy and Mary Beth, and one grad student, Lauren, we explored the languages and culture of a small rural, town in coastal Colombia, San Basilio de Palenque. 

Palenqueros have a fascinating history, including the distinction of the being the longest standing pueblo in the New World originally established by escaped Spanish slaves. So, since the 1500s, Palenque has juggled its cultural heritage alongside linguistic pressures. What has resulted is a bilingual town speaking an easily recognizable brand of Spanish common to Coastal Colombia and a creole tongue called Lengua Palenquera (or simply, Lengua) which mixes elements of Spanish with characteristics from the Bantu family of African languages. However, a stigma developed around Lengua, discouraging Palenqueros from using it outside of the town and drove it close to extinction. And yet, in the past half-century, with an influx of interest from outside scholars and researchers, many Palenqueros have redoubled their efforts at preserving and proliferating their language. A Lengua Palenquera renaissance. 

So, why am I here? The more I learned about Palenque, the more I wanted to know. I developed my own research questions, as did Mary Beth, Mindy, and Lauren. The three undergrads turned that question into an application for the PIRE grant, which will allow us to continue our investigations through June and July at Radboud University in the Netherlands (but that is a story for another day). Meanwhile, our lab group of five planned a two-week trip for early May so we could truly get our hands dirty, doing linguistics field-research in literal fields. For the week prior to our work in Palenque, Mary Beth, Mindy and I took the opportunity to get a taste for Colombian culture and language at spent it in Cartagena. 

If you’re still interested, here is a poster that outlines what sort of language-y goodness I’ll be getting into for the next 12 days:

Last Day in Cartagena

Tomorrow morning we leave for the small town of Palenque, where the real work begins. For now, I have time for one last post as I get ready to get nostalgic for Cartagena. There's plenty more to write about: this unique hostel we're staying in, the city's incredible, varied architecture, probably something about the history, some of the amazing people we've met, the night we spent on the beach at La Playa Blanca, and even the transportation there and back. But, none of that has the visual or visceral appeal of one of my favorite subjects. The time has come for a bunch of photos of food...

These all came from a plaza just 30 seconds from our hostel.

5,000 peso burger; would be considered gourmet by American standards

Various meats on a stick; grilled on-demand

Colombia's answer to Chipotle

Another angle

A typical Colombian meal (prepared, with love, by a Spanish ex-pat):

Sopa con pollo

Arroz, carne con queso, y ensalada

These delicacies are from La Playa Blanca.

Local fried fish and some typical Colombian sides; on the right are fried plantains

Salchipapas = french fries + sausage + cheese

Surprisingly delicious pasta with tomato sauce; it helps when the chef studied cooking in Italy for 10 years  

We've dined on some other Cartagena essentials like arepas, mysterious, tropical fruits, agua de panela, and paletas, but there's always more to try. Colombian food -- particularly the street food -- is easy to like and easy to pay for. Meanwhile, there's been no shortage of beverages to enjoy, some unique to the region. Don't worry, parents, we drink responsibly.

My favorite domestic cerveza

Another national beer

Yet another local beer

The national rum; in Spanish, ron

Coco Loco

Fresh fruit smoothies: mango, mona, lulo

Gotta stay hydrated in this heat: water sold in bags

Cartagena, Day 3

If you’re reading this, that means you weren’t too turned off by all of that sweat imagery and maybe you’re even a little intrigued. That’s good, because after about two full days in Cartagena, I do have a lot more to say about this city. 

Along with my two research partners, I'm staying in the Mama Waldy Hostel inside the narrow, winding streets of the colonial Walled City. Spanish invaders began construction on this section in 1533 and today it plays host to a healthy mix of locals and tourists. Walking around, I’ve seen the influence of Spanish architecture — lots of red roofs, courtyards, and plazas. There’s such a feel of Andalusian cities like Cordoba and Grenada, in fact, that you might assume the culture would take on a European vibe as well. In some ways, maybe it does, but the people here are distinctly Colombian. 

My watch still works, but somehow time seems to be aware of the heat here too; it slows down, trying to avoid exhaustion. (I’ve been here since Tuesday night, but that might as well have been last month.) Men and women, old and young can be found lounging on park benches, grassy knolls, and tree trunks during what we might consider the work day. A fellow traveler informed me that a Cartagenero he talked to spoke self-depricatingly about his countrymen: “We’re lazy.” I disagree. For every sedentary citizen, I’ve noticed ten hard at work in restaurants, bars, shops, cleaning trash (this really is an incredibly tidy city), or hawking all manner of wares on street corners and beach fronts. (Of course there is industry and white collar employment here, too; those were just some examples.) 

Nearly all of those industrious Cartageneros I have interacted with do two remarkable things:

1) They address us — three obvious gringos — in Spanish by default. Never have I been to another place where the locals lead with the local language. As a result, my Spanish ability gets tested instead of their English. Ordering agua de panela feels much more authentic this way. 

2) They take the time to build a rapport. From hostel managers to restaurant owners, many people seem to be interested in more than just money. And, those who realize you aren’t going to purchase a freshly caught oyster — after you’ve politely told them no — gracefully take the hint, walk away, and don’t bother you again. 

Of course, it’s not a fairytale. Equally gregarious salesmen will slickly offer you drugs and there are entire sections of the city we dare not go because of their dangerous reputation. Nonetheless, Cartagena is warm in more than one sense of the word. 

Work and play on the beach in Bocagrande, Cartagena.

Still fishing as the sun sets. 

Cartagena, Day 1

I am a refinery. Water goes in. Sweat comes out. It’s amazing, because in 21 years of life, I never really notice how efficient I can be at this — not until I go somewhere hot. Really hot. And humid. Cartagena is both. Off the plane and into the sauna. Immediately a thin coating of processed H2O forms on my skin. I’m trying to stay hydrated, but it’s hard. There’s so much to distract. In just a few hours in this old, Colombian city, I’ve seen all manner of sight, smelled all manner of smell, dined on just one delicious meal (so far), heard all manner of sound — including the green, parrot-like bird behind me who has learned only one, horrible word — and felt heat, oh so much heat. I’ve also felt welcomed. Cartageneros seem to be hardworking and helpful. I will have a week to feel out the rhythms of this place — to add these sights, sounds, etc. to a mental mix that churns out valuable memories, lifelong relationships, broadened perspective, and — sweat.