Getting Old

Do you ever get that feeling that time is kind of sprinting by and every time you try to grab hold it just slips through your fingers?  I swear its like trying to swipe a fish out of the water with your bear hands.  If you really try you can get a finger on it, but it takes goddamn ninja hands to snag it.  Well, in my attempt to combat that strange reality and become a little more dexterous I will hopefully start updating this blog once again to capture some snapshots of what has been going on in the life of your's truly.  If you asked me why I'm posting again I would probably tell you that it has been something that I have been trying to do this whole time, but I guess if that were true I would have be doing it this whole time.  Ya dig???  HOWEVER, I did just turn 24 and I that is as good a benchmark as any to pick up the habit once again.  Looking back it seems that I do this whole "Ima do this for real!" thing about once every 12 to 15 months, so heres to resolutions that you know you probably won't keep, but I might as well try :).

So funnily enough even though I haven't been posting anything my life continues to happen.  It's true, I swear.  I'd even say that some pretty spectacularly interesting stuff has been going on if you ask me.  I'll have to scrub through what I have and have not written about, but I'll do my best to outline some the highlights.  But since I left Colombia nearly two years ago I have been to Ecuador, Peru, Equatorial Guinea, and South Africa.  I have worked in a restaurant in Boston and installed solar panels, worked on a farm, conducted research, and worked for Tío Samuel.  All in all there are a LOT of stories to tell.  Actually, probably enough to write a whole book about.  Maybe just maybe I'll get on that at some point.  I'll call it "Stray Thoughts" or "Tangents of a True 'Murican".  All working titles obviously.  Or maybe I'll call it "The contemporary Beetnick".  Check my spelling on that.

I'm looking forward to telling you all of my stories and I promise I'll try to avoid the angsty rants.  If I do end up on one of those tangents I'll do what I can to throw a disclaimer over it.  However, I guess this might in some way turn into a Matt's stream of consciousness sort of thing so feel free to tune in and out as you see fit.  Instead of writing for the rest of the evening I think that I'm going to try and reformat this here blog so that it looks marginally less horrible.

Peace and Love everybody, I hope to see you all soon.

Unedited...

The following is a rather anxiety riddled post that I vaguely remember writing sometime in October of 2014.  I haven't reread it to be honest and it is anything but complete, but I am sure that I meant what I was saying, so maybe you can piece some of the frayed strands of logic together into something meaningful.


So I know that it has been an extremely long time since the last time that I posted something to this here blog, but it has been a rather interesting couple of weeks here in Colombia and I have not really had the opportunity / felt the motivation to write a whole lot, but I have actually been struggling to figure out exactly what I am doing here.  What follows are two unrevised posts, which should really be condensed into one thing, but I have honestly been to caught up in other things to care enough to polish them.  You'd be surprised to know about all the shit that happens here in this country.  But anyways, I am kind of drunk at them moment so I really don't care how unfinished all of this is at the moment.  There are some notes about what I want to say attached to the posts, and I am totally aware that they come off as extremely harsh in some places, but it is not an easy task to remove personal sentiment from the the things that I have been experiencing.  Anyways, sorry if you don't like it, but it is what it is.  You chose to read this, no one made you.  So here goes.

Yeah, some of this sounds like some revolutionary, anarchist, fight the power bullshit, but maybe that is what I am to get at.  Again, to be honest I don't really know what I'm trying to say, but here it is.

#1

If you read only one thing from this blog I ask that this be it

Now, I take a lot of pride in my ability to stay zen and not overreact to situations, but these kids are definitely testing my limits.  Apparently the semi-authoritative genes, which are pretty strong in the Peterfreund family, have in fact trickled down into yours truly.  But man, sometimes I just want to strangle some of these kids.  I’ve said it before that these aren’t bad kids by any means as far as I can tell, as in they are not bad people who are destined to live evil lives or whatever.  However, probably 30-40% of the students in any given class are intentionally disruptive and doing everything they can to get a reaction out of the other students or the teachers.  They just don’t have any respect for school or anything associated with formal education.  They are just not learning anything and man it really, really, really, really sucks.  To be honest at this juncture in time I really dread going to the vast majority of my classes.  Frankly the kids suck.  In class that is.   And I get that I should be the shining knight who is the perfect role model to get these kids to change their ways, that I should be above all of their nonsense and be able to keep the big picture in mind, but then again maybe I shouldn’t.  I am assuming that I am in the right in all of this after all.

            Once again, I am here as a volunteer to assist in English classes and to be a cultural liaison to these kids.  My job is to be interesting and inspiring and a person who will get these kids to want to learn English.  The second part is more my interpretation of the situation at least.  Now, Pueblo Rico is small, real small.  Like 11,000 people, but it feels even smaller.  Everybody is unbelievably kind and welcoming, but I have noticed that a definite subset of the population looks at me with some distain as I walk by.  The subset being older men who are covered in the blood sweat and tears from decades of long days starting before the sun rises.  And can you blame them?  My pompous rant from last week was hyperbole and I was only talking about basketball, but in a lot of ways I am not wrong.  I do represent a change and a drastic one at that here in Pueblo Rico.  I am the literal embodiment of the evolution that the powers that be are trying to bring about.  If nothing I am a symbol of the fact that the town is not just moving, but sprinting away from its farming and blue collar roots towards something that is quite frankly alien in nature.  So again I ask how can you blame them?  My presence here says to these men, “thanks for all you’ve done up to now, but we like this new thing better and we’re going to run with it.” 

            So now I question what I’m doing here.  Globalization and capitalism are the names of the game in the modern first world and the countries that don’t have the resources to play ball are obviously having a lot of trouble economically speaking.  In every Central and South American country that I visited successes is measured in the number of people who live lives which are pretty recognizably American.  Here in Colombia I And here I am, a pawn in the game, trying to inspire this small group of people and get them up to speed so they can play ball in the modern world.  If I can inspire kids to learn English and go to college I will be making Colombia stronger.  If I inspire kids to learn English and they decide to stay I will have opened up Pueblo Rico to tourists thus will have made it economically stronger.  That is what I am, a finger of globalization getting that much stronger of a grasp on this town.  What I need to decide is whether or not that is something I stand behind.  Am I a first world missionary?  Am I any different than that Jahova’s Witness who keeps knocking at you door?  What scares me is that I don’t truly know exactly what cause and agent I am truly promoting here in Pueblo Rico by representing this change.  I do not know what I am preaching.  I do not know what cause I am flaunting in these kid’s faces.  And I am sorry if this is a little too religious for you all, but I feel as though I may be the false prophet.  But then again that’s a matter of interpretation.  A matter of what line you are looking at and what side of that line you are standing on.

            Maybe it’s a good thing that these kids don’t care.  Maybe it’s a good thing they are saying blindly saying fuck you instead of blindly following what I tell them.  Maybe it’s the mechanism that is going to keep their culture and way of life alive and maybe it’s a front to the rampant global homogenization of people we see today.  I’m part of what they’re resisting.  I’ve been groomed into it since the day I was born.  Maybe it’s a good thing that they’re not just like me.  Or maybe they need to be more like me and they are truly backward in a sense.  All I know is that there are 7 billion people on this planet and the vast majority of us cannot be sustained as the world is right now. 

Hold the Green future ideal in mind at all costs.  Sometimes you have to cut out the bad in order to get what you want.  You have to be so committed to the cause that the shit you do to other people has to be justified.  Is the sacrifice worth it.  I am a member of the lost generation, without a cause, purpose or movement. 

It is my belief that it is what we do that defines us, so the question I ask you all is do you really know what you are doing?  Do really understand what your actions represent and do they fall in line with what you believe.  I guess I just ask that you don’t blindly go about your existence, because whether you realize it or not you actions are impactful in ways you could not hope to imagination.  Sorry to be so preachy.

Can you look at your own life and say with absolute certainty that, “this is what a human existence is supposed to be.”

Jhon’s story

What is our great movement?  Unfortuntaely it is nothing new.  I don’t think it is the creation of the next best thing.  Well maybe it is, hopefully I am wrong.  With any luck the next big thing is green technology that doesn’t fuck the planet, but I hope to god it comes with an intellectual movement that brings about the knowledge that there is a difference between what one can do and what one should do.  Lets call it the responsibility movement for now.  But also the next thing that happens needs to be a restructuring of the old.  We need to look at all the things that have been done and accomplished and reorganize them so that they work synergistically with all of the other things in existence instead of working independently from one another.  Lets call it cleaning up creation.  Because often things are more than just the sum of their parts.  So that’s three things that need to happen in the future.  Green technology, the responsibility movement, and cleaning up creation.

#2

            It has been over a month since I last posted and for that I apologize, but to be honest writing can sometimes manifest itself as a chore due to the time and effort required into making something worth reading.  But here I am, once again, to tell you about what is going on in the little niche that I have dug out for myself in Colombia.

            The first thing that I have to say is thank your teachers.  And I don’t just mean in school, I mean your parents, your neighbors, your friends.  Anyone who has ever given you some piece of knowledge that you have gone on to use in some capacity, just thank them.  No matter the love, hate, or indifference that you feel towards these people you owe them more than you know.  The simple fact that you can read this, that you can talk, that you can tie you damn shoes, means that they didn’t ever truly lose faith in you. 

For the first time in my life I have been placed in a school setting where I find myself on the other side of this learning/teaching line and after just over two months with this point of view a lot of things have been put into perspective.  Many of you are teachers in some capacity, but for those of you who are not you should know that kids suck.  Truly, they are the worst.  All in all they are rude, dense, and generally shitty and more often than I would like to admit I fantasize about things like how many 6^th graders I could take in a fight.  More often that I would like to admit I want nothing more than to pick up the resident asshole and see how far I can throw him, to break him open and see if he truly is made of shit.  In times like this I find myself thinking how ungrateful these kids are and that they aren’t worth my time.  That they aren’t smart or well behaved enough to be waited on by me.  That they don’t deserve me.  That they don’t deserve the opportunity that I represent to them.  And frankly as a group they don’t, but what I now realize is that they don’t need me.  I wish this was some sort of triumphant expose about how even though it is difficult and trying that I refuse to give up on these children and that I will continue to fight for them, but it is not.  I honestly find myself caring less and less about them as a whole.  The passion and excitement of the honeymoon period has long past.  But you all should be tearfully grateful that your teachers decided to love you instead of giving up on you.

This comes across as depressing and disheartened, but as far as I see it it’s the truth of my situation here.  Don’t mistake what I am saying as having spiraled into a depressive free-fall concerning the kids here, that is actually quite far from the truth.  The thing is that these kids are the children of farmers, and truck drivers, and mechanics and they have absolutely no reason to care about learning English because quite frankly their future wears a blue collard shirt too.  In my opinion, as well as theirs, it is a waste of time for the majority them to be in that class.  Many of you are thinking, “the reason you are there is to inspire them to learn English so that they can go to college so that they can get a good job and make something of themselves.”  But that is wrong.  Just dead fucking wrong and it makes me pretty angry that we project this point of view onto these people.  As I see it that is the first world interpretation of a contemporary, enlightened life, but who ever said that was in their best interest.  The inspired life that I am directing them towards looks a lot like the life that I have lived, that so many of us have lived, and more than ever I am convinced that it is not the right decision.  I mean look at our society as a whole, truly look at it.  We are petty, cutthroat, egotistical consumers who find contentment in only the latest fads and thoughtless entertainment.  Look what our modern world has done to the environment and look at the trajectory our society is taking.  You probably disagree, but look at the things you own and do, look at the things you desire and covet and tell me I am wrong.  And I do not say this as a person exempt from these things, I am every bit as deep into the mix as you are, but at least I am willing to look in the mirror and acknowledge what I am looking at.  Now how can I in good faith enforce this cultural imperialism on these kids.  I may be the goddamn false prophet as far as I can tell.

This entry is starting to ramble on and for that I apologize, but the best I can do is give an example of what I am talking about.  Here in Pueblo Rico I met this guy named Jhon and he did everthing that these kids are hypothetically supposed to be doing.  He studied his ass off in high school and became nearly fluent in English.  He went on to graduate and went to college and became a certified aircraft technicial, which is pretty awesome by my standards.  This would be the dream that we have already discussed, but here is the catch.  There are no jobs for aircraft technicians in Colombia.  In total there are three major airports here in Colombia and all of them already have all the hands they need.  So not only did Jhon not have a job, but he also has debt to pay off from all of the schooling that he needed to get his certification (sounds familiar doesn’t it).  Now what many people would say is that Colombia just needs to invest in more infrastructure to make more jobs for the people who have gone to school.

I am not saying that education is a bad thing or that it is not worth the time and effort, but right now, in the context of the world as it is, it is just not true.  Educating everybody in the world is absolutely vital to the survival of our society as a whole, but as of right now the higher education received by the lucky few is unbelievably misguided.  Instead of our economists going to wall street to get rich we need them to find ways to fund our future.  We need our politicians to create and dissolve legislation that best allows healthy social and economic growth instead of using contemporary issues as ammunition to argue extreme fundamentalist ideals.  We need our engineers to design green technologies instead of NASCAR engines.  What I am saying in the context of these kids here in Pueblo Rico is that yes, someday we will need them to get an education and become members of the educated class, but right now more members of the first world society as it stands would be nothing but poisonous.

10 months later

I guess I never really followed through with my aspirations to blog consistently while I was in Colombia.  That is kind of a bummer as I did a lot of things that I now see as irreplaceable experiences.  There were camping trips into the mountains of Risaralda and there were more motorcycle excursions that ended better than I could have even begun to ask.  There was cultural immersion at an unprecedented level and there were innumerable chances to crash and burn where I instead walked away proud and tall.  Pictures were taken, memories were made, and a few forgotten, but it was undeniably the experience of a lifetime (to date).  However, more than anything else I learned.  Not necessarily facts or methods, but I figured more of myself out.  I cut away at the baggage I carried and I galvanized my sense of self.

I returned home to the US in mid January of 2015 and spent a couple of months loafing around and unfortunately I found myself repeating the cycle of finding myself involved pointless menial activities that really serve me no purpose at all.  I eventually found a job as a bareback at a restaurant in Boston and performed those duties through last week when I left the job for good.  The next step is a trip down to Ecuador with my good friend Bagel where we will do work away jobs through Thanksgiving.  Lets see what happens.  As I will soon be back in the deep south, I will probably start blogging again with the consistency of an off balance pendulum, but I for one will keep my fingers crossed for something a little more concrete than what I have produced in the past.  I am a year older, a year more experienced, and maybe just a little more mature and consistent than I was before.  Time will tell.  T-minus one week.  See you all on the other side.

Picture edition. edition 2

My host brother Christ and the neighbors taking a cat nap to the simpsons.  There's also a baby in the fetal position in the crib.

Cerro Tatamá looms over the pueblo

Looming over soccer practice

Y'all have seen this spot before, but it looked pretty again

Moo bitch, get out the way

It would be pretty cool to live here, I guess

Cow on the ridge of the valley

Lone house on the vally

The path to the park

Safer bridge

Less safe bridge

FUUUUUUTTTTTTTTTTTTBBBOOOOOOLLLLL

Its a bird!

Hola Angel!

The river part 2

So last Friday night I was feeling bored and kind of lonely so I decided to walk around PR to see if I could find something interesting to do.  Now I know what many of you are thinking: just go to a bar Matt, meet some townies and make like a Colombian.  Alas, while that is my prerogative, it is not the means to which I would like to meet those ends.  So I stumbled into the Casa de la Cultura to use the wifi and check my email and such, when all of a sudden I heard guitar music wafting down from the top floor of the casa.  I went and checked it out and I found that a classical guitar class was in session so I stayed and listened and the next thing I knew I was trying to sight read some sheet music.  Now I can read music like I can read a quantum theory textbook.  I recognize the language, and I understand what the individual words may mean, but to put it all together and I got nothing.  That and the fact that I never really learned what notes I’m mashing on when I play guitar resulted in me being rather embarrassed by performance.  However, this girl came over and decided to help me suffer through the process, which was really nice of her and soon we got to talking and such.  Her name is Angel and she lives pretty close to PR so we decided to meet up a couple of days later and she would show me a cool river.  And I found out that the lessons are free so now I’m taking classical guitar lessons here in PR, which is pretty cool.  Perhaps I play you all a ditty the next time our paths cross. 

            So I meet up with Angel on Sunday afternoon and I hop on the back of her motorcycle and we head for the river, which happens to be a bit off the map so to speak. I get to see the scenery as we’re zipping along the mountain out of PR and my oh my this place just keeps getting better and better.  Its just mountains, everywhere.  Not really super tall or imposing ones, except for Tatamá in the distance, but there’s just kind of tons of medium small ones everywhere and everything seems to exist on a slope or valley of some kind.  I’m guessing that this place kind of looks like a wavy green dune from space.  Lots of texture is the way I guess I would describe it.  But anyways, we head off of the main road up this dirt path, which I would never have known to turn down and we wind our way up to Angel’s house.  I’ve used this description before, but I would best describe this path as jungle.  Just straight up tropical forest.  Maybe there’s a subtle distinction between those two things, but I don’t know it sooooo yeah.  Anyways.  We get up to her house and I meet her lovely mother and cousin and then we depart again in search of the river.  Some 20 minutes later, averaging something like 5 km/h we made it to a bridge and low and behold we were right outside of the Tatamá nature preserve.  Instead of heading to the main gate we duck under this bridge and start moving our way upstream.  More indescribable beauty, yatta yatta yatta, it is pretty awesome.  Before I know it I have abandoned my flip flops for the bare foot approach to rock scrambling and we continue forward for over an hour.  At a certain point we decided to do a 180 and made it back just as dusk turned to true darkness and I had one of those my lord, I’m actually in Colombia moments.

            To paint the scenery I was soaking wet and a little cold on a river bank in the kind of darkness that only allows silhouettes in shades of grey to be perceived.  As I look up I notice fire flies, not very many, but enough to blip their green yellow bulbs into existence for a just a moment at a time along the riverbank.  Then I hear the water passing by just a few meters from my feet, calm and constant, and then the lightning.  The flashes in the sky were neither awe neither inspiring nor accompanied by their boisterous cousin thunder.  Just bright enough to lend depth and color to the low clouds of the overcast skies and just often enough to make your heart beat just a little bit faster.  Then once again I realized that I wasn’t in Kansas anymore.

            We left the river and motored back to Angel’s house where we feasted on their homegrown goodies.  There I found out that they are basically organic subsistence farmers, who grow cucumbers, tomatoes, plantains, mandarins, an assortment of beans, and I am sure a whole lot more on their 7 hectares of isolated mountainside farmland.  We had all of those in some capacity during our meal.  And then for desert they had homemade tofu smothered in homemade guyava jam.  Keep it in your pants you damn hippies.  I know you just had you dream commune described to you, but the best part about it was that they harbored none of the preachy, smug, self-righteousness culture that clings to American organic movement like a bad odor.  So, it was cool or whatever, I guess.

            Then I biked home and passed out with sore feet and a full belly and I lived happily ever after for the rest of forever.  Just kidding, I woke up the next morning with legs that were pretty sore, because apparently I ride motorcycles wrong or something.  Anyways, that was like 5 days ago, I’m not sure what the deal is with the happily ever after.  Peace, Love, breathe deep, and don’t forget where you’re at.

<3,

Mateo