No le pegue a la negra - My long overdue post on Cartagena

Hola Amigos and Purveyors of this Blog,

I've been doing a whole lot of living and not enough writing over the past two months but I HAD to put up some pics from my beyond wonderful trip to Cartagena, Colombia in October. I went for my beau's birthday and could not have chosen a better location. We originally slotted ourselves for Barranquilla but correctly changed plans at the prodding of our fellow travelers to what is one of the most beautiful, vibrant, and amazing cities that I've ever been too.

Beautiful Brown Girls

90 Degrees! 

Disguising the Evil They Lost My Bags Face

Local Commerce

Cartagena had it all, it was my "sophistiratchet" self rolled up in a living breathing city. If it had a theme song it would have certainly been "No le pegue la negra" We stayed at a bed and breakfast called "Les Lezards" owned by a french fella named Marcus in the old city. Because of bday boy we were upgraded to the "Africa Suite" which probably was more exciting to me than my companion but anywho, it was beautiful. Not in the, I'm writing for my blog and it has to sound spectacular way, but in the OMG this is even better than the pics can I live here sort of way. Our place was right in the old city, where pretty much everything you want to see exists, had 4 stories, a rooftop, outdoor jacuzzi, and amazing staff who cooked breakfast every morning (note...arepas are not always your friend).

Rooftop View

All Sorts of Books Kama Sutra Too *covers eyes*

Jacuzzi Flow

Frances en Espanol?

Once we ventured out of the house, me in my same clothes due to an American Airlines party foul, we began to roam the area and check out the locals who were every beautiful shade of brown you can imagine. The cumbia, reggaeton, salsa, and hip-hop blasted from every open house as we walked down the street. The square near our place was anchored by a beautiful yellow church that was indeed functioning despite the full out barefoot soccer games taking place in front of it. We dined at the beautiful Casa de las Cervezas which is on the top of a former fort and had beautiful views of the bay. We were def paying for the view as the food and drinks left something to be desired.

View from Cafe de Las Cervezas

The Many Colors of a Cartagena Sunset

Pollo Tropical >>>>

Mangoes Everywhere!

Central Clocktower

Day 2 was DOPE, we went to El Bazurto Social Club which in name alone sounds fly. It didn't disappoint. The Afro-Colombian spirit was alive and well in this place and we danced the night away after eating a meal that I've been craving ever since, coconut rice, plantains, and chicken marinated in spices to die for.

Afro Colombian Homage

Me the Booski and E Badu?

La Comida!

Live Music, Please and Thank U

We opted for an adventure on Day 3, the actual birthday and decided to take a bus to the "mud volcano" about an hour outside of town. An experience is an understatement, between the bus breaking down, the strange men rubbing you down in mud, and the women in the river washing us down remarking that my mate was "delicioso" this was by far one of the top moments of the trip. If you do nothing else in Cartagena DO THIS.

The Post-Mud Volcano Struggle

Getting home was a piece of cake and we opted for a fancy dinner at La Vitrola, restaurant that I'm sure the cartel frequented in its heydey but awesome food nonetheless. It was in a more touristy part of town then our digs in "Get-Set-Amie" but picturesque nonetheless. Bouncing from fancy time we headed out for a night of revelrie by way of the Cartagena party bus "Las Chivas". You basically ride around with semi-obnoxious people (yourselves included if you're doing it right) drink nearly unlimited rum and coke with a makeshift cumbia band keeping your spirits high. You get dropped off in the end by another of Colombia's forts and the end of the night is yours. The rest of the evening was too hot for this blog but let's just say I spoke fluent Spanish "rachetese" by sunrise.

Our Unlikely Party Bus Starter

Wilmon w/ the Cuba Libre after the Chiva

Stumbled Upon the Masons

The Police Officer Loved NY So Much He Escorted Us To The Club

After our night of bday shenanigans we missed our boat trip to the beautiful beaches at Islas de Rosario so we decided to head to the Castillo Fort which we learned also doubled as the slave holding and receiving location. The gates and holding cells looked eerily similar to those I say in August in Equatorial Guinea and I def had an emotional moment there but it was a spectacular construct nonetheless. It was here that I learned that Colombian flags only come in size XXXL when on display lol.

Candid!

Columbian Flag XXXL

Holding Cell - Colonialism

We finally made it to the beach on our final day and it was indeed beautiful...however don't get duped on a psuedo snorkeling run. We thought we were going to get up close and personal with stingrays and coral reefs and ended up getting dumped into the middle of the ocean sans fins and swimming away from a blurry jellyfish. Definitely spend the time and money researching your beach excursion to make the most of it or better yet, let someone like Marcus do it.

There is plenty of street eats, restaurants and other haunts to check out most notably the mysterious Coco Loso's, all tostones, and some wonderful places to get a blow out. I would go back to Cartagena in a heartbeat. It was hands down one of the best trips of my life! Check out more snaps of the goodness below.

Ciao until next time.

Sasyrae

Stop Emailing and Pick Up The Phone

My job is to build relationships. It's fulfilling because it allows me to do what I love best - talk about what I know - and helps an organization that I believe has a huge role to play in global development.

50% of my work happens at meetings, events, and conferences. I meet people, talk to them about food security, agriculture, and research and hope that the dialogue continues to a place where we generate support or partnership for the critical work CIMMYT does.

After spirited sessions, a bevy of PowerPoint, and the ever important card exchange we all go our separate ways. What do we do then? We email. We email thank you, we send courtesy updates, and become computer drones. The glowing screen and fonts serve as pseudo – relationship conduits giving the illusion that we are connecting in a real way.

Last night, I felt like Bill Clinton was speaking to me. I listened to his wonky policy speech and thought….maybe I need to talk to people more about the science behind my work. Maybe they do want to hear what we really do instead of a dumbed down version that I think they’re more comfortable with. Granted…I’ve still got to sprinkle in some sexy to make it palpable but what he did was brilliant, something to aspire to when you’re explaining complicated but critical information.

This morning, still high off of my surprise connection from politics to work – I did something revolutionary – I called people. I called them and asked how they were doing, we shared laughs, I gave updates on our work with passion in my voice and you know what…things happened! The needle moved forward, and the enthusiasm of our first meeting was revived. The person I spoke with said “I really am so thankful you called, it was so good to be free from typing that email”.

Our global society forces us to email more frequently as a matter of necessity but I challenge each of us to take time out once a week and pick up the phone. It’ll take you further.


Ciao!


Sasyrae

 

If we organize...they can't ignore us



Lumbini Gate marking the road to Buddha's Birthplace



I write this with arms and legs so tight I can barely move - a slight exageration but I spent most of my day hiking up the steep hills of Nepal meeting with women in farm cooperative groups. Nepal is a small country in South Asia bordered by China and Tibet to the North and India to the south, it is also the birthplace of Buddha. This cultural mashup of Indian and Chinese culture is evident in the food, religion, ethnic makeup, and unfortunately the preservation of the caste system.






Me in front of the entrance to the women farmers co-op

 

The majority of the women in the co-ops are members of the Dalit class, the lowest members of a system that places poor (and often times brown) people in a permanent state of disadvantage within society These women have come together to find better ways to feed their families, send their children to school, earn an income, and prevent their daughters from beign married away as children as young as 10 years old, which was the case with one member a few years back. The co-op gives them a voice, one woman put it bluntly "If we organize, they can't ignore us". [This hit home as we reflect on the recent execution of Troy Davis and the need to ban the dealth penalty in the US but I digress]



An hour away from Tibet

Dalit woman near her field in the hills

All was not doom and gloom, my visit was amazingly refreshing. One member of the group, a girl of 13 named Jashaipuri and I hit it off. After interviewing her she and I did a mini-photo shoot which quickly reminded me of my days as a 13 year old. Eventually she proposed that my colleague and I kiss for the camera while balancing yellow flowers on our heads, I opted out of that shot but obliged her request for me to shoot up the peace sign in consequent photos.

Hospitality in Nepal takes priority and it was truly an amazing experience. I took special note of the fact that the young girls and women, especially took to me making sure to layer extra flowers on me during the welcoming ceremony. I was even gifted an authentic scarf! My colleague later explained that it isn't often that they see a woman so young (and brown) being addressed in such a manner. This made me especially proud, this life is not our own and you never know just who is looking to you for an example.

Right after an official Nepali welcome ceremony!