TangoSpam:La Vida Con Deby

Tables Turned: Lost in Medellin..Hasta la Vista

This is my last day in Medellin.  I was on a whirlwind tour thanks to my new friend Juan.  I met him through Facebook.  I wanted information on the milongas in Medellin.  Instead he proclaimed himself my personal guid and mejor amigo.  From the second my feet hit Medellin, until I hugged him good bye in the metro station in San Antonio he took care of me.  Through him I saw incredible amounts of Medellin and made some wonderful new friends. He will forever be a person I will not forget.  Social networking is indeed, social networking.

I woke up this morning with really no plan.  I left the hotel and walked to Shopping Oviedo.  Boring.  I mean it is a beautiful, but I really did not want to shop.  This was the first time in almost 4 years I saw stores that were Kenneth Cole, Guess, and Espirt.  Then the negatives - the food court - Domino, KFC, and all the others.  Colombia is very USA.

What to do next.  I remember something on the map about a Parque Llera and the Cafe de Juan Valdez.  OK, well I have time before I meet Gary, my ex-accountant.  I flag down a taxi.  "Parque Llera."  I tell him  He gives me a look.  I don't know how to say it without the Argentine inflection.  I keep trying.  The taxi driver is nice, but he really isn't trying all that hard.  "OK,"  I tell him, "I will spell it."  So I do.  "Are you from Brasil?"  He asks me.  "No, Argentina."  He shakes his head.  That explains everything.

We get there.  Ohhhh, this looks like Yanqui Central.  Well at night.  There is bar and restaurant after bar and restaurant.  The taxi driver drops me off in front of the Cafe de Juan Valdez.  Juan is no where to be found.  Anyway, I decide to walk around.  The area is beautiful.  Lots of trees.  I don't think I have ever seen so many bars and restaurants crammed into one area.

I have a coffee in a small cafe served by surly waitress.  She prefers waiting on men.  I have a double expresso.  I am always amazed how in the cafes here the coffee drinks always come with alcohol.  90% have liquor of some sort.  This is not Starbucks.  The expresso is just so so.

I walk around and take some pictures of the so called park.  I head back towards the Cafe of Juan Valdez. The place is cute.  I decide to buy beans.  Nothing is priced.  I ask a very cute guy the prices.  He comes to help me.  I get an explanation of coffee from him.  I buy two bags of coffee.  He wants to know A) am I married, B) do I have a boyfriend, C) where am I staying.  You have to love Latin America.  He is young enough to be my kid.   I laugh and tell him I am leaving tomorrow.  Sorry.  I have a capucchino and a sorry excuse for banana cake.

I take a picture of Mr. Cutie and he has a heart failure.  You cannot take pictures inside the Cafe de Juan Valdez.  I ask him "Are you afraid I am a spy from Starbucks?"  He doesn't answer.    I tell him I hate Starbucks.  I am a Peetnik.  This of course means nothing to him, and trying to explain it is almost impossible.  Come to think of it, I have not seen Starbucks here.  Why do they have to be in Argentina?

I decide to go to Exito.  I have no idea what Exito is, I just like the name (Success actually) and the big yellow building.  I could probably walk, says Mr. Cutie, but since I am short on time, I take a taxi. 

Exito is a monster.  That is all I can say.  It is my training ground for when I go to the US.  They have tons of US brands.  It is a monster supermarket with clothes.  I feel sad.  Colombia in many ways is losing its heritage.  I buy nothing, I do not want to carry it around.

I take a taxi to go see Gary.  I get a great taxi driver.  We get stuck in traffic.  We are in front of a strip of old stores.  I ask him "Is this what Medellin used to look like before it became so modern?"  He looks sad for a moment.  "Yes,"  he tells me. "Yes it did."  We have a great conversation.  He understands exactly why I like the central.  He says you used to be able to buy vegetables on the street.  Everything got torn down.  He gives me a tour of Medellin of how it was. I get a wonderful history lesson from him.  I feel privileged. He is a very nice man.

I wait for Gary in the shopping area.  He comes for me and we go to eat lunch.  It is a very "Yanqui" restaurant.  I am thrilled.  I order salad.  My first salad since I left Buenos AIres.  I am so happy.  It is good to see my old friend.  I spend a couple of hours with him.  He walks me to the metro.

I call Juan and leave him a message that I am on the metro.  I take it to San Antonio.  I am having trouble connecting with him.  We are supposed to meet on this street where they have all the pirated books.  Only I say truchos.  I forget to say piratos.

I get off the metro.  I need to ask someone.  I ask a policeman, "Donde esta el CA-SHAY...."  I keep forgetting I need to say CA.Yea....DUH.  They don't understand me.  It takes me 3 people to get them to understand me.    They either go "Argentina"  or "Brasil".  I don't really care, I just want to know how to get to the street.  I keep trying Juan.

I am walking in the centro.  It is pretty rough.  Think Once on steroids at night.  Finally my phone rings. Iti is Juan.  I can barely hear him.  I lose him.  How frustrating.  I look for one of the phone ladies.  You can use one of their phones for 200 pesos a minute. I find one.  I tell her my phone does get a signal and I need to call this number.  She looks at Juan's number and calls.  We are able to connect.  He asks where I am.  Good question.  I know one street, but not the other, I give the phone to the phone lady.  She tells him.  I look up and there is Juan. He was on the corner across the street.  Duh.

We walk around the central.  I cannot find any books.  I buy some fruit.  He thinks I am crazy.  I cannot live without fruit.  I am tired of fried food.  We go to La Boa for a coffee.  They are play tango there. " Now what?" I say to Juan.  "Salon Malaga?"  he says to me.  I am thrilled.  This is my favorite place in Medellin.

We enter.  There are a few people there.  I love the faces.  We order aguadiente.  We listen to the music.  I did not realize that the music is 78 records.  I go to where they are playing them.  Juan I think is horrified at how I just go upstairs to the DJ booth.

The DJs are two older men.  I enter.  I tell them how much I love the music.  I tell them I am from Buenos AIres.  They show me the records.  I am looking at an original collection of Biaggi.  I want to cry.  It shows in my face.  I look at him.  "How wonderful."  He tells me they have more than 7,000 records.  I thank him for letting me come see his collection.

Juan walks me to the metro.  He is going to take a bus.  I am sad to leave my friend.  "When are you coming back?"  He asks me.  I tell him, "I will see you first in Buenos AIres.  Te espero..."  WIth that I give him a hug.  I have had a wonderful time in Colombia.  Que lindo pais.

Tables Turned: Lost in Medellin..II

On Saturday we went to an amazing park.  El Park Descalzados.  It is a park where there are no shoes allowed.  You must be barefoot.  There are all sorts of sensations for the feet - sand, small stones, clean,refined, dirt.  It is a beautiful area.  People come with their children to enjoy the area - without shoes.

Juan constantly reminds me of how Medellin takes care of its citizens.  They pay a significant amount in taxes, but they receive it back in services.  Juan tells me no one complains about the amount of taxes they pay because they feel the city manages it well.  All one has to do is look around at all the beautiful parks, a transit system that is clean, well maintained, and modern.

We go to another park called Parque de los Deseos.  This park is also beautiful.  I am not sure why it is called this.  My wish is to try the green papaya slurpy.  Whoever works in that concession is not there.  I think Juan thinks I am a little crazy.  I want to try everything.  I read the ingredients and there is nothing listed that sounds like a chemical.

We walk around and watch the people.  Soon the papaya person comes back.  I take my slurpy with lime, chile, and salt.  It always makes Juan wince.  He prefers sugar.  Not me.  It tastes much better than anything you could ever get at 7-11.  It was worth the wait.

We spend the afternoon running around from one place to another.  I am starved.  So is Juan.  I want to eat.  We end up in El Central.  I love it down there.  He thinks I am crazy.  Medellin is so modern.  It could be anywhere in the world.  This is so different.  We are in Plaza Bolivar.  Juan has an empanada.  More friend food.  Carne.  I cannot.  I eat green papaya.

We are going to the Esquina de Homero Manzi.  Not in Buenos Aires.  The one here in Medellin.  It is an intellectual place for tango.  There is to be a lecture on lunfardo.  Then some singers.  We walk there.  It is a decent walk.  I love the places we see on the way.

The lecture is sort of strange.  A guy everyone revers drinks wine and basically reads texts that I know I have seen on the Internet.  He plays tangos, then looks up the lunfardo in a dictionary.  For me it is a little boring.  I ask Juan "Do you want me to tell you want the songs are saying?"  He looks at me like I am a little nuts.  He thinks this guy is a God.  He gives me all his credentials.  I am not really impressed.  I have never heard of him.  My friends on the other hand speak lunfardo all day long.  Let me introduce him to Emilio or better yet El Attorante.

I see this guy in the corner dressed in a jacket and bow tie.  I cannot understand what he is doing.  I thought he was the mozo - waiter.  Finally I ask Juan.  "How come the mozo isn't working?"  Juan almost chokes..the guy is the singer.  Looks like a mozo to me.

I am hungry.  Juan asks me what I want to eat.  I am tired of friend foods.  I want a miga sandwich.  He looks at me like I am crazy.  I miss Buenos Aires.  We listen to the singer.  He is not good.  He is just OK.  I am going to die.  He is going to sing a song that one of my favorite singers Roberto Florio sings.  They call him Roberto Flores.  The mozo massacres it.  I tell Juan he should stay a mozo.  We leave.  Medellin is not Buenos AIres.  I tell Juan I am enchapelote when I am hungry.  He does not know this word.  I have to explain it.

On Saturday night is the milonga at the Ultimo Cafe.  I meet Juan there.  I love my new friends.  I am happy to  see them there.  I watch people dance.  They just love show tango here.  Some of these people are going to come to Buenos Aires in January.  I will be happy to see them.  I wonder how they will see tango there.

I tell Juan I think that if people had the opportunity to see salon tango danced elegantly with passion they would love lessons.  He says no.  I don't agree.  I watch them.  He says the era has pas

sedt.  I still do not agree.  They have teachers who want to teach show tango and so that is all they have to learn.  Yet, at the end of the night, what are we dancing?  Salon tango. 

I dance salsa with Carlos the owner of Ultimo Cafe.  I also dance tango with him.  They film me.  He mostly dances show tango.  He steps on my feet when we dance milonguero style.  People love the milonguero style. 

I stay until the end.  There are only 5 of us.  It is 1:00 am.  I cannot believe I am going home at 1:00 am. In BA I would just be getting started.  This is so weird for me.  Everything closes so early here.  I do not think I could live  here.  I am too used to my life in Buenos AIres.

Sunday I get up.  I have no idea what we are going to do.  I call my friend Gary.  He was my accountant in California.  I have known him for more than 20 years.  He has an apartment here in Medellin.  He comes here on and off.  It is really funny that we are going to meet here.  I have not seen him in 6 years.  We plan to meet on Monday.

I wake Juan up.  I think he is surprised I am up.  I can't help it.  We are going to meet at noon.  I have no idea where we are going.  He won't tell me.  I think he is a little crabby. 

At noon I meet him inside the metro.  Where are we going I ask him.  "Envigada."  he tells me.  Or something like that.  He is in a bad mood.  Or tired.  OK Bueno.  I know I can get along with little sleep.  Except today is the first day that I have pain.  Not good.  I think it is going to rain.  Juan tells me no.  I don't want to argue with him, but I think yes.

We take the metro and get off then take a bus.  We are in a small pueblo.  I love it.  We walk a short distance and we are in small plaza.  I love this place.  We go to have coffee in a small bar.  Everyone is starring at me.  By now I am sure I am the only blond in all of Colombia.  This place is really cool.  I feel like I am Cuba.  Not that I know what it is like to be in Cuba.

We are in a bar full of men.  Juan is a little oblivious to this.  I feel like meat with eyes.  So I talk to the owner who is behind the counter.  He stares at me like I am from mars.  "Argentina?" He says to me. "And then where?" he asks. "Brasil?"  This is the usually what people think.  That I am from Brasil.  Whatever.

After we walk around this really neat little pueblo Juan tells us we are getting on the bus.  He has an agenda.  I have no idea what it is.  We walk down a street.  He is really lucky that I am fairly easy going.  We get on a bus that says "Sabaneta" I think.  I make fun and say "Sabana" which is sheets.  I don't think he thinks I am funny right now. 

In about a half hour we are there.  I feel like the bus ran over me, but I say nothing.  I think it shows on my face.  This is the first time since I left Buenos Aires I have not felt well.  I hope this is not a pattern. We walk around.  Finally I ask Juan if he is hungry and he says yes.  We go to look for somewhere to eat.

Personally I don't care.  All the food is fried.  People must have horrible cholesterol problems here.  I love arepas, beans, platanos, and rice.  But I miss salads.  Juan has finally learned the meaning of the word.  enchapelote.  I need vegetables.  I am begining to think they do not exist here.

We pick a restaurant.  I look at the menu.  I want this platter but it comes with meat.  I tell Juan I am going to ask for it with chicken.  He tells me that they will not do it.  I tell him never underestimate the power of a blond.  When the waiter comes I dazzle him with my blondness and tell him how much I want this one platter, but I don't eat meat.   Could I please have it without meat, and then like magic, he offers it to me with chicken.  Sigh, never under estimate the power of a blond.  And you thought we were all stupid.  Hah!

While we wait for our food, it starts to rain.  I turn to Juan and smile.  I tell him how my friends in Buenos AIres use me to predict the weather.  The pain has mostly gone from my back.  It is raining hard.  I tell him we will be stuck here eating.

The food is wonderful!  Beans, rice, arepas, plantanos, and chicken.  More fried stuff, but great.  I learn that a milo is chocolate milk.  Oh well.  It sounded so exotic.  I can hardly eat half of the plate brought to me.  They give you so much.

My tour director pushes me to leave.  I stop at an ATM.  We are going back to Medellin.  I am tired.  Too much fried food.  I sleep on the bus.  We go to the centro to Salon Malaga.  This is my favorite place in Medellin.  I feel transported back in time.

We enter and Juan sees two people he knows.  We sit with them.  At the time I did not know, but one is the owner, and the other is a Colombian film director.  I am being me.  I watch a couple dance.  They are older.  I love watching them.  They dance son, rhumba, salsa.  They have so much music in them.  It is a joy to watch them.  I could watch their feet all day long.  I am mesmerized by them.

The music in Salon Malaga is the best.  They play a mix.  Soon they are playing tangos.  When I look up I see a group of my new friends.  It seems there was a class downstairs.  They come to join us.  A bottle of aguadiente is ordered.  I want to try it.  Everyone finds that funny.  They don't know how I used to down shots of tequila.  They give me a shot and try to stifle smiles.

I throw it back.  This stuff is nothing.  It tastes like licorice.  They all clap.  Everyone is fun.  The teachers Carlos and Liliana dance a tango.  They dance show tango with lots of steps and moves.  I am wearing tennis shoes.  I do not want to dance.  I am content to just listen to the music and watch.

I love watching my favorite couple.  I could watch them all day.  The faces in this bar are amazing.  There are a couple of musicians.  They are wearing suits.  They have their guitars.  I wonder if they will play.  A couple from our group gets up to dance salsa.  They look wonderful.  Not the same as my favorite couple but they look good.

Then Carlos asks me to dance a tango.  I have tennis shoes on.  Tango in addidas.  Not quite the milonguera thing to do.  Coming to Colombia has me breaking all the rules.  I do not like dancing show tango but I do.  It is how he dances.  I close my eyes.  I love the music.  I love my tango.  I almost mourn that I cannot dance for my music.  It must show on my face.  After people clap.

I go to tell my favorite couple how much I love to watch them.  They tell me they enjoyed watching me.  An older gentleman comes up and tells me he wants to dance with me.  I am a little skeptical.  I figure with all the people I have danced in Colombia, why not.

I go back to my table.  Soon most of my new friends leave.  A few of them tell me they will see me next month in Buenos Aires.  I will be happy to see them again.  Juan tells me he is going to meet his sister, but he will be back for me.

The older gentleman comes to sit with me.  We are joined by the older couple.  I have a nice conversation with them.  They talk about music.  They play some cumbia and the older gentleman invites me to dance.  He is a wonderful dancer.  We dance cumbia and some salsa.  He reminds me of Diego, my ex-boyfriend.  He was from Cali. 

We sit again and talk.  They tell me how they love the music.  How so many people learn to dance but never learn to love the music.  Now where have I heard that before?  They tell me they do not like tango with all the moves.  That tango is simple.  Just lke salsa.  They finally play a tango and I go to dance with my new friend.

I dance the best tango that I have had since I came to Colombia.  A tango that has feeling.  Tango with simple steps.  A tango with a wonderful embrace.  We dance two tangos.  People clap.  I want to stay.  I love these people.  Juan comes up.  He tells me I have to go.  They want us to stay.  I am very sorry to leave.  This was the best tango, the best dancing I have had since I came to Colombia.  I sadly say goodbye to these lovely people.  They tell me to please come back soon.

I am exhausted.  I tell Juan that I want to go back to my hotel.  I think I will take a nap and then decide what to do.  It has been a wonderful day.  Full of memories. A day of music.  Of tango.

Tables Turned: Lost in Medellin..

It is 5:30 in the morning.  I hug Rosa good bye.  Armenia is beautiful.  I am going to miss this city.  I do not know if I will ever be back.  I would like to think so.  I am already planing my next trip to Colombia. Cali, Popayan, Cartagena.  This is a wonderful country.  I am thinking I might be able to do some tours here.  Well maybe.

Rosa is very sad.  I understand.  I know what it is like to have people in your home and to become attached to them.  Last night we talked about it.  We traded war stories.  Funny how she is in the middle of no where Colombia in a Finca and I am in Buenos Aires on the 17th floor and our stories are identical.  We laughed ourselves silly.  I say goodbye to the "chicos".  The doggies.  I miss La Demonia.  I have visions of Juan her paseador being strung up with dog leashes and Maxi flogging him with another.  She is one tough cookie.  My baby.

At the terminal I say good bye to Francisco and thank him.  I tell him to say good bye to Henry for me. One night in Armenia, Henry took me to his home to use the Internet.  I met his two drop dead gorgeous sons and his lovely wife.  He bought me an arepa on the corner while I used the family computer.  It is these acts of kindness that make traveling so wonderful, and it also makes it sad.

I board the bus for Medellin.  Our bus is empty until we get to Pereria.  I then find myself in the middle of a group of abuelitas and "Jaime".  They are going to a wedding.  I am seated next to the head abuelita. She of course wants to know all about me and my whole life.  I have a 5 hour ride.  I try to sleep.

At the rest stop I cannot eat the heavy food.  It looks wonderful, but there is no way at 9:30 am.  I have a mango juice and a cheese bread.  The abuelitas do not approve.  I do not want to look like them.  I have a sneaking suspicion that we are not that far away in age.  They are horrified that I am traveling alone. "Una guapa como tu?" says one of them, and then shakes her head.

Outside of Santa Barbara we are stopped for what seems like forever.  A man gets on and sells paletas. I buy one of coco.  I am in heaven.  I want one in every flavor - chocolate, strawberry, mango, guayaba.  I know better.  I stop at coco.  I watch the movie.  It is some Kung FU male fantasy movie.  The abuelita next to me chatters non-stop.  She is trying to match make.

I ask her how far we are from Medellin.  She tells me about a half hour.  I take out my phone and call Juan.  He is thrilled to hear from me.  He asks me which terminal I am coming into.  I ask the abuelitas.  Medellin has two.  You would think this would be a simple answer - Norte o Sur, but we are in South America and so it needs to be a major discussion among all the passengers in the front of the bus.  Finally they decide on El Transporte del Sur.  Juan tells me he will meet me there.

The abuelitas are now major curious about who I was talking to and for 30 minutes they are driving me crazy with questions.  They do not accept that Juan is "just a friend."  He must be my husband.  My boyfriend.  There is no way that I could be traveling alone to be alone.

We enter into Medellin.  Like Bogota it is a very modern city.  It is in a valley.  I am fixated on all the beautiful modern buildings rising out of the mountains.  I have never seen anything like it.  We pull into the bus station.  Just like Bogota it is modern, even more so.  Like everywhere else in Colombia it is clean. As I get my suitcase the abuelitas swarm around me like flies "Donde esta el?" they ask me.  They want to check out Juan.  Unfortunately for them and fortunately for us, he is not here.  Disappointed they leave. 

I call Juan.  He asks me where I am.  He tells me to wait.  Soon a tall, dark young man appears.  It is Juan. We met through Facebook.  I wanted to know about tango in Medellin.  He has appointed himself my guide, my docente, and my new best friend in Medellin.

Off we go in a taxi to try and find my hotel.  Juan is surprised I am not tired.  He asks me if I am ready for a tour of Medellin.  "Sure."  I tell him.  "Why not."  The taxi driver is another issue.  He is completely lost and refuses to ask for directions.  We finally make it to my hotel.  A charming place in the hills.  I drop off my stuff and we are off.

We take a taxi.  We see so many places I cannot remember all of them.  For me the most memorable were the teleferico - the metro cable ride across the city.  This transposes across the villas.  I also love the central of the city.  There are beautiful statues and museums down here.

Juan is an amazing guide.  I am blown away by how clean Medellin is and how safe it is.  Like Bogota there are police everywhere.  The military is not as evident here.  Juan tells me Medellin is under camera surveillance.  There is security everywhere.  The motivation to steal on the street is not so great because thieves know they are being watched.

I find people to be very friendly here but with more of an edge.  They love to talk politics.  They hate Chavez here and they love to talk about it.  As soon as they hear my accent, the go "Argentina.  What is wrong with your President?"  I try to tell them we feel the same way.

I love buying fruit off the street here.  My favorite is green papaya with lime and pepper.  Juan winces. When I ask for it I know the vendors find me a little strange too. Men openly stare at me here but they do not say anything.  I am amazed at how they will stare when they are with their wife or girlfriend.

Juan has his milonga tonight so we must separate at 6:30.  He is an amazing guide.  I thank him and tell him that I will see him later at his milonga.  He tells me how to get back to the hotel.  First I must get off at a certain metro stop.  Then look for a taxi stand.   The metro here is wonderful.  Very similar to the metro in Chile.  Clean.  Fast.  Everything is clean here.  You could eat off the sidewalks.

At 8:30 I get in a taxi to go to Juan's milonga.  It is in the lower level of a bar in the centro called Malaga. What an incredible place.  They have a lots of old jukeboxes.  In the lower level the walls are decorated with tons of pictures of Gardel.  Gardel is a hero here.  It is amazing how much they love him here.  More than in Buenos Aires.  He is like Eva Peron.  Almost.

The tango here is not like Bogota.  Here people are fascinated with show tango.  I miss Buenos Aires.  I meet lots of really nice people.  I am amazed at how open and friendly people are here.  I dance with several men.  I do ganchos, and half splits, boleos.  No one dances to the music.  I realize now why I can never leave Buenos Aires.  I can never leave my tango.

I watch an excellent exhibition of show tango.  The dancers will be coming to Buenos Aires in a couple of weeks.  Carlos is great.  Later he asks me to dance.  He starts with show tango.  I tell him "You know how we dance in Buenos Aires.  Please.  I do not want to dance this way."  He calms down and is very nice to dance with.  My best dance in Colombia.  Tomorrow I will be at his milonga.

At midnight the milonga ends.  I am in minor shock.  If I were in Buenos Aires, Oksana and I or Sandra or Ani,  would be getting ready to go out.  Here I must go back to a hotel room and the Internet.  Not important.  I am really happy to be in Medellin.  It is a beautiful city and the people are wonderful.  Juan has a full agenda for me.

He walks me to the street.  "Como tu fuiste Cariña?" he asks me.  "Spectacular."  I tell him.  I give him a hug and get into my taxi.  My first day in Medellin.