Mugged by a Peacock - Life in Cali, by Alberta
"In the end, what clinched my decision was the weather. It was February and bitterly cold. I hadn't seen the sun in three months. Every time I trudged up the steep hill towards campus, the wind and freezing rain forced me to hunch further into myself, cowed by the elements. Inside two pairs of woollen hiking socks, my feet slowly went from agonised to numb. Each morning, I woke up feeling more exhausted. In short, I had to get out. I had to go somewhere else: a place where blue skies weren’t an annual event.
I had already decided to apply to the Pontificia Universidad Javeriana, one of the oldest and most prestigious universities in both Colombia and Latin America. The main campus is in the capital, Bogotá; however, on further research I realised that the thin mountain air and changeable climate did not sound particularly enticing. Then I discovered that there was a secondary campus in the south-western city of Cali. Average year-round temperature: 25°C. I fired off some letters and waited. The answer came a month later. I was in.
Walking through the automatic doors at Arrivals on a July night was like suddenly finding myself in an enormous greenhouse. I stared out the cab window at the Cali nightscape. Dazed from 17 hours in transit, everything looked surreal. Everything seemed to repeat itself. Pool hall. Pentecostalist church. Another pool hall. Another church. Drive-in motels along the highway shaped like medieval castles, with fake turrets and plastic banners. Huge shopping malls, glittering and monolithic. Quiet neighbourhoods with tree-lined streets and cosy-looking cafés on every corner. Lit up, the city was strung along the edge of the mountains; above it, blackness. It was nothing like anything I had ever seen before. The next morning, I bit into what looked like an innocuous bread roll. It tasted unexpectedly cheesy and I put it down again. Then I opened the blinds and saw the jagged green peaks in the daylight rising up immediately above the city.
Those first jetlagged 24 hours proved to be the worst of my culture shock. What was more difficult to overcome was the language barrier. Two years of advanced Spanish had done little to prepare me for the idiosyncrasies of Colombian Spanish in general and the Caleño accent in particular. I managed to stammer and gesticulate my way through purchasing a rechargeable travel card, somehow figured out the bus route to the university, and began the labyrinthine process of obtaining a Cedula de Extranjería, or ID card, which involved a trip to the bank (more gesticulating) and going to the clinic for a blood test. Induction week for new students began, with hours of assemblies (which I was used to) and group bonding exercises involving blindfolds, drum circles, and plasticine (which I wasn’t).
If someone were to come to me and tell me that they were considering studying or working in Cali, I’d tell them to go for it. Work, study, go off the beaten track. Don’t be afraid to ‘go native’ – all too often, studying a culture from a theoretical standpoint can lead to a sense of distancing and detachment, of seeing the people around you as ‘subjects’ rather than individuals. Let go of any preconceptions you might have. Get out of your comfort zone. Live with Spanish-speakers, if you possibly can. Learn to enjoy cold showers.
Then there was the wildlife. The Javeriana campus is lush, verdant, beautifully landscaped, with snack bars where you can sit and have a coffee with your friends. At least that’s the basic idea. The campus is also home to a large colony of iguanas, several psychopathic ducks, and a magnificent flock of peacocks who had gotten into the habit of wandering into classrooms and screeching. Seduced by their iridescent plumage, people had been slipping tidbits to the birds, inevitably teaching them that the easiest way of getting food involved pacing between the tables, tails dragging ridiculously on the floor, and standing at your elbow, staring beadily and somewhat menacingly at you, until you threw them a bit of whatever you were eating. They’d gobble it up and return to repeat the process. One day, I was sitting outside with a couple of other foreign students (from Mexico and Germany, respectively). The German was eating a pastry. The peacock wandered up, eyeing the treat. Circling the table, the bird flexed its neck in an obvious prelude to an attack. My friend started flinging large chunks of pastry across the seating area to keep the admittedly very sharp-looking beak occupied and a safe distance away; after eating the lion’s share of a large pastry, the peacock gave our table another once-over to see if anything else was edible, gave up, and went off to bully someone else out of their lunch.
Bird life aside - I was also bitten on the foot by a duck who, for some inexplicable reason, wanted my orange slushie - the Javeriana was very unlike anything I’d ever encountered before. As well as having high academic standards, the Jesuit approach to education includes extra-curricular activities (the university offers classes in everything from capoeira to jewellery-making) and spiritual formation. Outside of classes, I took up photography and sculpture. I made friends. I went camping in the mountains, in the cloud forest above Cali, an area which I later learned was mostly populated by hippies and FARC. Although the first semester wasn’t entirely perfect – I developed a persistent cough, one of my friends was robbed at knifepoint while shooting a documentary, and I’d bitten off more than I could chew in terms of workload – I began to relax and enjoy life more than I had done in years. My language skills improved tremendously due to the simple fact of spending all day, every day, surrounded by monolingual Spanish speakers (or at the very least foreigners who use Spanish as a lingua franca).
Of course, Colombia isn’t perfect, but then nowhere is. It was remarkable how quickly I became inured to the sight of security guards strolling around my local mall with assault rifles, barrels pointing upwards. Constant reminders of inequality and violence – armoured cars fitted with sirens and loudspeakers; gated communities surrounded by high walls, electrified fences, and razor wire – are everywhere. Sexual harassment is an irritating fact of life. The city can be dangerous, particularly at night and for foreigners. However, for me, the most irritating aspect of life in Cali has been the public transport system. Back in 2008, Cali unveiled a new bus system, an imitation of Bogotá’s Transmilenio. While it’s clean and air-conditioned and looks gorgeous, the MIO (slogan: El MIO es tuyo!) is incredibly unreliable. As there aren’t enough buses to meet demand, the MIO is overcrowded and very, very slow, puttering along at barely 30 miles per hour. Colombians also struggle with station etiquette, congregating in front of the doors so that it’s impossible for anyone to get on or off the bus. To make one’s commute even more exciting, there’s the occasional stampede during rush hour. While Cali still has busetas (minibuses), City Hall is doing its best to eradicate them, much to everyone’s disgust. If the MIO’s mine, I don’t want it.
If someone were to come to me and tell me that they were considering studying or working in Cali, I’d tell them to go for it. Work, study, go off the beaten track. Don’t be afraid to ‘go native’ – all too often, studying a culture from a theoretical standpoint can lead to a sense of distancing and detachment, of seeing the people around you as ‘subjects’ rather than individuals. Let go of any preconceptions you might have. Get out of your comfort zone. Live with Spanish-speakers, if you possibly can. Learn to enjoy cold showers.
And remember, if a peacock comes up to you and demands your pastry, just hand it over.
- Alberta