Terreno custodiado por la comunidad cuesta de belen

Which translated roughly to "This land is being watched by the community group Belen", meaning that the house was deemed "unused", so the community took the property and (subsequently) gave it to a local poor person who petitioned for it. It's important to note though, that the vast majority of these poor people do not/will not work and do not pay for their electricity or water. This is another example of the common end-result of Chávez' Socialismo: removing all incentive for people to strive to be productive or responsible. And these ideals are passed down to their children. And that is the key to what support Chávez has: he plays into the historic culture of poor Venezolanos expecting handouts without any effort on their part. It's very deep-rooted here and will pose quite a problem for any future President who actually tries to govern this country responsibly. Until then, the educated complain and leave and the poor sit in their doorsteps and look for the next handout while their children entertain themselves in the dirt.

The People You Meet..

I've been going all around town for something like two weeks trying to find decent running shoes for a reasonable price. Brand-name items are one of the things that are ridiculously overpriced here. I'm talking double what they cost retail in the States—and I can't remember the last I paid retail for anything in the States because of the ease of online shopping. But here in Bogotá you go into a store, and they are all over you and literally hover right next to you trying to help you in every way they can. And they are actually trying to be helpful so I feel a little guilty being annoyed. Besides, usually it's a tiny, adorable Colombiana, so no matter what, I'll put up with it. That and it's a good opportunity to practice my Spanish. Anyway, I tell them what I want - in painful detail because I've learned that Colombians just kinda buy whatever's available and so the store employees have come to expect that. Like no one looks for specific things when they go shopping. Then they show me something that completely doesn't fit my description, so I tell them again, this time clarifying the elements that are most different between what I asked for and what they brought. This goes on about three times, until they either "get it" or they just happen to bring something that's what I asked for—in this case, sneakers that are specifically for running. Running shoes. And it gets harder because I need extra pronation support, and between the fact that there aren't many shoes made for that in the first place AND the crazy notion that someone has specific needs AND I can't even fathom what spanish words to use to describe my foot problem and the type of sneaker that is made for it, you can imagine how long the process is.

Eventually I get a shoe that I don't write off immediately. So I nod an initial approval to myself and they get all excited as if we have a done deal. But certainly, before I ask them to go through the trouble of pulling my size--which they are crazy anxious to do, I for the price. I'm getting pretty good at showing amazement and confusion with gestures and a few Spanish words. But here again, its like no one questions anything and I can only assume that if people want a general something, like "a shirt", then if the store has "a shirt", they buy it. There no price comparisons, there's no push for a style that's "just so". That's why all stores of the same type are clumped together. You will never—ever—see a store NOT surrounded by stores of the exact same kind, selling the exact same items, for almost the exact same price. There's absolutely no concept of a free market system by either sellers or the buyers.

So the fact that I finally found a decent pair of running sneakers for a normal U.S. retail price is in and of itself amazing enough, but that's not the best part of my day.

My umbrella broke the day before, and it's been raining almost nonstop for two weeks (a month as of this late posting) and is supposed to continue this way until freakin' June. But of course I started on my shopping trip with no umbrella hoping I'd find a decent one to buy on the street along the way. (I seem to have a pattern of weather denial. No heavy clothes in the cold, no sunburn lotion in the summer and no umbrella during the raining season.) But of course, every single street vendor had the same three umbrella types that I didn't approve of. I'll get rained on every day for the rest of my life before I buy an umbrella I don't like.

When I finally got off the bus in a part of town I've never been to, it was down pouring. I saw a small group of vendors across the street from the Transmilenio bus station and dodged in between traffic to get there and then stood under the vendor's umbrella just thinking about what I was going to do without an umbrella and really without even knowing which way to go. So I turned around and asked the three vendadoras who were huddled together talking if they knew where the outlet store was and they basically told me it was a few blocks up the street. But they went further and volunteered one of their own to show me. And by show me, they meant walk me there with her umbrella. This is the type of thing that people do in Latin America. And it's not a big deal. You don't owe them anything, and they are happy to help. It's so wonderful to experience, you think of all the times you've been "justifiably" selfish and feel like a fool.

So this tiny little girl and I start walking down the street huddled under her umbrella. But the funny thing is she has this beat up, wooden suitcase of candy strapped onto the front of herself, open. She's a candy seller. They are all over the place and I've always wondered who these people were, how much they work and of course how much money they could possibly make selling little sucker candies and cigarettes, one at a time. (Few smokers buy packs of cigarettes—following my theory that people in Latin America don't acknowledge that the future is actually going to arrive.) Because it's raining, she has clear plastic draped over the open suitcase, held in place by two lollipops stuck in holes on the far corners that the plastic has been draped over. Even though she's helping me, she's essentially "at work", so she keeps the suitcase on and open while we walk the few blocks to the outlet store.

I thought there was going to be just one Adidas outlet store, like a warehouse thing. But of course, there's no such thing as a store of anything by itself. The area is about a four by four block zone with all shoe "outlet" stores. Lots of activity, lots of street vendors, lots of outdoor speakers blasting salsa. For some reason, people here think blasting music in your face is an enticement for every type of buying activity.

My little escort directed me to one of the first Adidas stores of many. We stopped at the door and I said an overly-emphasized thank you and kissed her on the cheek and went in. In this store, there were two people overly anxious to help me. One a woman, and the other a man, second-guessing and talking over the woman, as usual. Fortunately, they didn't seem to have my size in anything, so I was able to make a guilt-free quick escape. But when I got just outside the door, I saw my escort there waiting for me in the rain. She was planning on taking me to the next store!

And so it went like this for almost two hours. The exact same scenario in every store where what I meant by "running shoe" had to be defined over and over, finally coming to a possible option then seeing the price ridiculously high and thanking the eager employee for their help and moving on. But after the first few stores, my escort became comfortable enough to come into the store with me and stay by my side to "help" me go through the process, never taking off her suitcase of candy. But she didn't speak a bit of English, so mostly she just repeated whatever the employee said. We slowly started "talking" more and more with the bits of Spanish I know and the plenty of pantomime I know well, so eventually she learned what I was looking for and in fact became a big help. We honed our question and answer technique such that we would zip in and out of stores, note the progress in our overarching goal and move on.

At some point I didn't notice, she lost her suitcase and she because just a regular person. I guess she figured this was going to be a long process and I've killed her chances of making any sales anyway. We continued going in and out of stores making our way through most of the area. We were learning which stores had what shoes and at what price. Finally, we found running shoes that fit me well at the best price and I bought them. (Still $20 over US retail). At that point I was determined to buy her lunch.

At the empanada stand she absolutely refused to let me buy her anything, even though she certainly didn't have any money to buy herself anything. She said she eats on a schedule, two times a day. I had to trick her into letting me buy her one empanada by asking IF you were to have something here—and I know you're not going to, but IF—what would you buy? I know I didn't so much as trick her as she simply relented.

So we sat for little while and talked. She's says she's 18 but I am certain she is younger, possibly as young as 14. She says she will not being going to university simply because she can't afford it. She lives with her cousin. Her parents live in Bogotá, but the best reason I could get as to why she doesn't live with them is that it's a "better arrangement" this way. Something really must be going on because NO ONE leaves their parent's home, girl or boy, unless they go away to school, which is rare, or get married. We talked about what the U.S. is like, what we do on weekends and what kind of boys/girls we like. She says averages 20 mil pesos a day selling candy (about $10) and she works Monday through Saturday—but not Sundays!—from 9 to 6. There was a lot we didn't discuss, and I'm sure there was a lot she wasn't telling me and certainly there is a lot I would like to know about her but didn't ask.

Afterwards, we picked up her suitcase, which was hidden within another vendor's stall, and we walked together for about a half-hour while she made some "rounds". She poked into some stores and had brief conversations with people, but mostly we just walked around the block. This is what she does six days a week, selling hard candy and individual cigarettes. Unless fate brings her something dramatic, this is what her future holds. What other options does she have?

Eventually the time came for us to part, she walked me to the bus station and I asked her if I could buy a kiss on the cheek from her. I was looking for an excuse to give her money. She refused with an almost confused smile until I reiterated only on the cheek! So she agreed but insisted we go somewhere, I assume so customers and other vendadoras couldn't see.

We eventually stopped away from the main shopping area, I kissed her cheek (and she made sure it was the cheek) and I tucked a 20 mil note into her suitcase in a manner that she couldn't see what the bill was. Then we walked back to the bus station.

At the steps to the entrance, she slipped me a piece of paper that said "Carolina" with a cell phone number on it. I almost laughed because many woman are really named Carolina here (Caro, or Cat) but when women want to give you a fake name, they also use Carolina. So if you meet 100 woman in 100 completely different circumstances, 80 of them will be named Carolina. It seemed a sweet gesture that I'm not really sure how to take. A few times she genuinely refused my offers of food or a coke. But I think about what I must represent to her, a young girl with very little if any prospects for a bright future. And I come from a world where the streets are paved with gold, and big money is easily earned by all. A world not unlike a fantasy or another planet to her, even though she lives here in Bogotá as modern a city as there is in Latin America.