Sports Day - otherwise known as complete mayhem!

The weeks are passing quickly here, and I am getting more and more attached to the kids in my class. They have quite tough shells, so the longer I stay the more they open up - when I first arrived it was actually quite hard to feel as connected to what I was doing (in comparison with Peru). Everyday I learn something new about these kids lives that makes me feel even stronger about the work that we do here, so with this in mind the last day of school before Easter became Sports Day. The idea being that we just do something fun - I want to cram in as much as I can before I have to leave. It is also a great way to just be friends with kids when you do things like this - instead of just always trying to teach them facts!

We were prepared - very prepared. We estimated the amount of kids we would be working with (30 - at the most), picked team colours, bought face-paints, boiled eggs for egg and spoon race, had medals for the winners and prizes for the best team, plus all kinds of other equipment for the different races we would do. We also bought lots of food to share out at the end.  

It was a boiling hot day and the sun was beating down on us as we headed to Oasis. We had 20 children arrive for sports day, so we divided them up and gave them a colour each - they could paint their faces and tie ribbons round them in their team colour. Each team was about five or six kids. When we were finally ready we walked down the street to the campo - less than a three minute walk. Somehow, in this short space of time, the children multiplied. The green team suddenly had twelve little green faces instead of six. The reds were growing by the second, and throughout the afternoon more and more kids appeared, asking to play. It was for the Oasis school kids - but when a little child comes up and asks you if they can play, I defy anyone to say no and make them watch! 

This meant that we didn't have enough prizes, or food for that matter. The relay races couldn't work as no team was equal and nobody could keep track of who had or hadn't run. When we gave them water they sprayed it everywhere so some people were soaked, and we didn't have enough medals to give to any one team! We decided to just pick a 'best team player' from each team and give them a medal, which I think worked quite well. We gave a few sweets out, but the absolute crazy begging, pushing and shoving that takes place when you do this on the street is so horrible that we kept the fruit and juice for another, calmer day.

It's kind of an example of how things never really go how you want them to here. You can plan and plan and plan but it won't turn out how you imagined it - sometimes it is better and sometimes it is worse! I guess the main thing is that you have had fun with the children - way more important than it being precisely executed! All in all, I was happy with the sports day - they all were smiling and had good team spirit. I think the end result may have sent many running for the hills, but all of us painted and sweaty volunteers went home with smiles on our faces, as did the kids.

A welcome break... Minca

Each morning here in Santa Marta I wake up to the sound of loud traffic, conversations shouted across the street and vendors selling AGUACATE AGUACATE AGUACATE!! That is if the heat hasn't beaten their daily wake-up calls. So when I woke this morning to the sounds of birds and insects, and I was actually using a blanket, I felt a deep sense of relaxation. Welcome to Minca.

About fifty minutes drive outside Santa Marta lies the small town of Minca. Nestled on the slopes of the Sierra Nevada it is a green little haven from the relentless heat of the Santa Marta sun, and a treasure trove of trees, flowers and all kinds of birds and insects. We decided it was time for a small break, and got up early Sunday to make our way there. 

There are no buses to Minca as such, just an option of a four wheel drive which you hop in and wait to fill up, or a ride on a moto-taxi (back of a motorbike, no thank you!) or maybe a taxi. As we were four we didn't have to wait for our car to fill and climbed into the boot of what can only be described as an old banger! A bumpy ride later (in which the metal floor of the car heated up so much that our feet were burning through our shoes) and we arrived over a rickety little bridge into the town of Minca.

Apparently until 2006, Minca was under the control of paramilitaries - the Sierra Nevada is notorious for paramilitary activity - but, for us at least, there was no sign of any of this. It consists of a dirt road, with a pool hall, a few shops and some vendors selling typical Colombian street fare. The main thing I noticed was just how nice the people are. I have always been told about the wonderful Colombian people, and I got to see it at full wattage in Minca - everyone wants to help!

We walked to a waterfall (about an hour away) through lots of huge bamboo trees. If you stood still you could hear them creaking slowly - kind of spooky! They looked beautiful though, huge canopies framing the path, towering over us. There are lots of birds flitting between the trees - bright, colourful birds that I have never seen before, and butterflies land on your path and in the bushes, making everything seem like it is moving and alive.

My bed!

The best part though came when we arrived at our hostel for the night . After swimming in the waterfall, a picnic, walking back to town and a steep hike, we arrived at Casa Loma. Owned by an English couple who quit everything at home to make a go of it in Colombia, it is just so peaceful! It is an open structure, and we opted for hammocks as our beds for the evening. They face outwards over the wonderful view, where Santa Marta is just a few lights twinkling in the distance. I fell asleep with a nice cool breeze swaying the hammock... 

Morning coffee from a local farm 

Even when I woke up at daybreak with the sounds of the birds, it felt lovely to lie and look at the scenery, having been in the centre of Santa Marta or the barrio for the past month or so. Having got to the stage now where I am even dreaming about the school and teaching it was such a nice break, and I have to say that I am looking forwards to the upcoming Semana Santa and the week off it gives us!

Geography!

Yesterday's class involved learning about Colombia - how many people live there, what mountains there and what they export etc. We painted a flag which today we used as the background for all the pictures the kids drew. Here are a few pictures!

Sergio

Smiling is not allowed. Not when you are the two "cool" boys from Oasis's oldest class and are cultivating some kind of street image! Meet Sergio (in red) and Miguel (on the right), who are, if I am honest, two of my favourite kids in the class. These two come to school everyday without fail and have been there since my first day. When I take the camera out Sergio poses like some kind of gangster, and Miguel refuses to smile no matter what I say.

Each child in the class has such a strong personality, and there is no way that anything I write will convey each quirk and detail of who these children are. But, I am going to try - starting with Sergio.


The teacher who had this class before me sent a long email before I took over, giving me advice on the children and what she had been teaching. Her words of warning: Sergio is one you'll have to keep an eye on. And she wasn't exaggerating! He pulls girls hair, he squirts water everywhere, he calls one girl "Fiona" when her name is Maria Alejandra (as in Fiona, the green monster married to Shrek). But he is so smart. Within seconds he soaks up new information, and can throw it back out. All of the kids respond amazingly well to praise, but get so frustrated by their inability to grasp things. This isn't a problem for Sergio, and when you tell him he has got something right, his whole face lights up. 

Sergio doing paper mache (he is very artistic)

The wonderful thing for me, about Sergio, is that his naughtiness is what you would expect from a young boy. Yes, he is rougher than he should be, and often breaks into dance when I am trying to explain something difficult, but at the end of the day he is just acting how you expect a child to act (a child that hasn't been house-broken!) He can wind the little girls up no end, and I remember how upset boys like him used to make me with their constant teasing, but you can tell he means no harm by it all. I suppose all this must mean that he comes from a less troubled background, but who knows.

Small things about Sergio break my heart. Today we played a game, and I offered the winner the prize of going to the shop at the end of class to pick something for me to buy them. Sergio won the game (all to do with listing nouns if you are interested!) and he was so very excited! The shop is pretty basic. It sits on the corner before we get to school, and sells a little bit of everything (food, drinks, pens) but nothing too exciting. We go in, and Sergio, the most outgoing boy in the class, gets an attack of shyness at what to pick. I said to him: "anything!" thinking he was going to go for one of the sickly sweet offerings that line the counter. He shyly points, and says por favor, esta; not at chocolate, lollipops, Coca-Cola or anything similar. He wanted an apple. Fruit! I bought him a little bag of orange juice to go with his apple (honestly about 40p spent in total) and he looked like he had won the lottery. I could have cried - what child in England would be that excited over an apple? He danced off down the street with his loot, yelling Hasta manana Seno! firmly cementing his position of favourite...

One of those days...

...One of those days when it all gets too much, and you feel useless and tired and like what you are doing is not really going to help anyone. Or maybe it could, if only things were just organised a bit better, or if there was more money, or if the parents of some of the kids taught them how to behave better... 

The front door of the school - it is far too hot and dark to close it. Lots of kids hang around the door, even if they don't attend.

But things are how they are: the children are poor, can be violent, naughty, they can't read very well (and those who can are held back by those who can't), it is hot, dirty and loud. There are three tiny classrooms in Oasis' school; there are no doors so you can hear it (and see it) when the class next door kicks off, or a fight breaks out. Even when the classes next door are having a great time it means the volume goes up and making yourself heard is hard. It also means the kids are distracted a lot. Add in to the mix the days when the young teenagers next door to the school bring out their gigantic speakers and blast music while school is going - in retaliation for the noise of the kids - and some days it really feels like it is descending into chaos.


Some days are great, and I should stress that before I start moaning about today (which is the worst day I have had here, and probably in a long time). For example yesterday we did maths, the kids sat through the whole lesson, and the other classes behaved and it all went smoothly. Could be something to do with the fact that for some reason Mondays are a lot quieter than the rest of the week - I only had about six or seven kids and the other classes were smaller too. The other reason is that we had enough people - the ideal is two people per class (although I think more wouldn't hurt). There is one teacher, and one assistant. So yesterday I had an assistant. Today I didn't and either did Martin, the teacher for the class beside me.

In the background you can see Maria peering in from her classroom - everything is open so the kids are easily distracted.

An assistant helps for a number of reasons. All the kids are different levels and so having an extra person means I can divide the class roughly into two groups according to ability and have one person per group. No assistant means that you have about twelve children who all need your help, and all for different reasons. As I mentioned before the school is pretty open, so we have a problem with random kids running in from outside and trying to steal things, annoy the students and teachers, and generally cause problems. When there are enough people, you can usually kick these guys out easily without disrupting the class too much. But today we were a small group, a lot of students, and a gang of boys from the street decided their mission for the day was to ruin classes.


The boys are young - so they are not threatening to look at - but when they start throwing rocks through the window, you realise how much trouble they can cause. There is no glass in the school (a good thing I think) but it means the rocks can hit the kids or teachers - which is horrible. Today they were throwing rocks at me all afternoon from outside. Or when that got boring they were chucking handfuls of dirt through the window onto the students heads. They would then run into the school, dancing around, smacking kids and trying to rob things. I try so hard to not lose my temper with them, as I think that is what they are hoping for. Also, I try not to touch them more than gently steering them towards the door (which is impossible when they are climbing on tables and chairs and running at you). Today though they were so violent (one punched me in the face, another used a shutter door to try and smack me) that I found it really hard to keep a cool head. It is too hard to put into words how stressful the whole thing was. I felt like crying most of the afternoon, while Martin said to me at the end that the whole experience made him practically suicidal.


The only comfort is that it isn't like this everyday, and the kids I teach are just too lovely to get too disheartened by the circumstances we teach in. When I arrived today two little girls were waiting for me by where the taxis drop us off, with a little flower pot in their hands, as a present for me - when they are that sweet it makes me even more determined not to let a few rough boys ruin it for them.

Living in Oasis

Oasis. Really doesn't inspire the right kind of image of the area we work in when you hear its name, although maybe it was an act of optimism calling it that! We go everyday for school and then leave, so it was an unusual turn when two volunteers showed up wanting to live in the barrio - no other volunteers have done it before. Oscar (the director) told them he thought it would be safe (they are a couple, I don't think it would be recommended for girls on their own) so they went about finding a house.

The entrance to Barrio Oasis

There are a few really good points about them staying there. Obviously, they save A LOT of money by living there. They get a slice of 'real life' of the people we are working to help, and learn a lot. Of course, there are a lot of bad points too...


Last night they both invited a few of the teachers round after school to come see their house and hang out a bit. So off we went, walking along the dirt road like some kind of pied pipers - we had kids following us the whole way! We were warned of the rules before going into the house: No kids inside. When we got there we saw how this rule came into being. The house has a porch, and a front gate. Hanging over the gate, sitting on the porch, peeking through the windows: children. Naughty, loud, cheeky kids looking for attention! This couple wake up each morning with a child peeking through their bedroom windows giggling, they cook each night to the sound of the kids fighting to get closest and everything else in between is accompanied by a stream of questions "Profe, senor..."


The house is nice by the standards of some in the barrio, luxury compared to what I was used to in Peru, and horrible compared to anywhere I have lived, or seen people living in at home. As I said there is a porch, a 'sitting room' (comprises of two plastic chairs and a plastic table), a bedroom (concrete floor with a matress)  and a kitchen (has one tap and one hob to cook one - pretty fancy!) The 'bathroom' is an outdoor shack with one compartment to shower - this involves taking water from the local well and chucking it over yourself - and another compartment with the bathroom. It was pretty basic. All in all though it was a lot nicer than I was expecting. Some of the kids in the school have eight or more brothers and sisters, and they all live with their parents in one room shacks, so this is definitely the higher end of living in Oasis. Interior design comprised of a shiny plastic poster hanging up high, of what can only be described as a pretty English cottage. Very strange. This was artistically hung exactly beside a painting of a waterfall, causing a weird clash of images and a bit of an eyesore.


To shut the doors meant the heat became stifling, but to leave them open meant there was always an audience standing on the threshold peeking in... 


The bad points of living up there must surely be the dirt. There is rubbish everywhere, and the smell of it burning is toxic. It is so hot and dusty, and the dirt just sticks to you while you are working - everyday I come home feeling disgusting. To feel that constantly must be tiring. The dirt is also filled with tiny bugs who nip at your feet all day long, I am covered in bites! Inside the house geckos crawl the walls and cockroaches scuttle in the corners. The worst though are scorpions. I haven't seen one (thank goodness) but one of the volunteers has been bitten, and Gabby (one half of the American couple) found one sitting comfortably on her shorts the other day!


In the school we have a problem with how violent the kids can be with one another, and a big part of this is throwing rocks at each other. They pick up the biggest stones from the road that they can find / lift and lob them at the unlucky victims head... Women sit outside their houses and watch the kids do this, and never decide to step in or say no. This is because, as we found out through our 'inside couple' many of the adults have the exact same attitude to arguments. Last Sunday at 9am, Wren and Gabby were woken up by the sound of yells and screams down the road. A crowd had gathered to watch as a woman pelted rocks at the house of her ex-husband; the venom was directed at his new wife. Everyone stood by, doing nothing, as massive rocks smashed into the house, nobody was concerned that somebody may get hurt. 


With these tiny examples that we uncover each day, it becomes clearer to see what we are up against. It is about more than just teaching the kids to read, it is also about offering them an alternative outlook on life, and showing them they can aim to do something different. The question is though, how do you get that across!

    Kids playing on the railway tracks that border Oasis. Their kites are plastic bags tied with string.

Barrios Fundadores y Oasis

So, the reason I am here, to volunteer! I started a week and a half ago now, but wanted to wait before I wrote a post about it all, as to be honest I wasn't sure where to start. Already there are so many things I can comment on, feel sad about, admire and despair over! The best way to start, I think, is to explain a bit about where we volunteer.


Fundacion Mariposas Amarillas works in two barrios: Fundadores and Oasis. The two neighbourhoods are much the same: dusty, dirt roads lined with brightly coloured houses. When you catch a glimpse inside some of the buildings you see very basic living conditions - sparse, plain rooms. In some areas the road is inexplicably dug up and piles of rubble form obstacles to the carts and anorexic donkeys that are everywhere. There are bony dogs and cats scrummaging in the shade, and rubbish is a standard feature of the landscape. It feels even hotter when we get up to these areas, and people sit on the sides of the road and greet you as you pass. In the streets surrounding the school building everyone is aware of the work of the foundation, so it is relatively safe to walk around. After a certain time, or a certain distance though I think security becomes an issue.


My reaction on the first couple of days was of slight surprise. The areas didn't seem as poor as I was expecting, and the kids looked cleaner than I imagined. There were actual concrete floors in the schools, and the buildings had proper roofs and walls (not just tin!) There is power and water in these barrios too. This is all in comparison to Peru - I am not sure if I have been acclimatized to sights of poverty and was less shocked because of this. Either way, it isn't as simple as just looking and deciding it is not that poor. It is, of course, worse than anything you would find at home, and painful to confront. There is no sewage system, the power and water supplies that surprised me are sporadic at best, nobody comes to collect to rubbish... On top of all of this when the rainy season comes the houses and streets flood. I spoke to one man who told me that he has had water up to his chest in his house, but local government doesn't help, as according to them "there is no flooding." 


The people in these areas are unemployed, make a living as cheap domestic help or collect rubbish to bring to recycle. I have also been told that some children come from displaced families. The Sierra Neveda lies on Santa Marta's doorstep, and cocaine production in these areas means that entire families can be stripped of their land and left with nowhere to go, so that more cocaine plants can be grown. Hearing stories like this makes it even more disgusting to see so many of the backpackers who come through South America and rave about how cheap it is to take as many drugs as you could ever dream of.


It is still early days here, and I know there is so much more to learn about these areas and the people in them. I can already feel time starting to speed up and pass me by! Next week sees me take on a class of 10 - 13 year olds in Oasis, and I am nervous! For some reason the children in Fundadores (where I have been based the past week) are a lot better behaved than in Oasis. We have speculated on reasons for this - the area is more religious, the parents stricter - but all it really means right now is that I am in for a bit of a rougher ride next week! Wish me luck...

Joining the gym... Colombian Style!

As always I come away for a few months with the best of intentions: read a lot (all in Spanish), eat healthily, exercise... The list goes on. So this time round, things are no different and I hunted out a gym to join. I also figured it is a good way to feel a bit more settled here, as it will help me have a routine. Luckily, I found two other volunteers who had the same intentions, so last week the three of us went to find "Lucho Fitness".


The man on the front desk of the gym was a character, to say the least. One of my new gym buddies is an English girl called Ranj, her parents are both Indian. Walking down the street on my own here is quite an experience, but with her it is another level! They are fascinated by her, and the stares and comments multiply by ten (which is really saying something!) I have seen people discuss Indian politics with her, ask her about what life is like on the isla India... it goes on and on. So, the man on the front desk was no different. In fact, he was probably the worst. He was so disgusting I felt like stepping in front of Ranj to protect her from his leering stare! 


As there was three of us we got a discount to join. We handed over our money, and the guy gave us a receipt. No card, nothing went into the computer, just a receipt. I asked him was he going to put our names into the system or anything, but he informed me with a creepy grin that he would remember us so not to worry! As we were leaving a small group of men had gathered by the desk, and were asking the guy where we were from, what we were doing etc etc. So we were pretty sure that when we next came we would be the entertainment!


The temperatures hits about 36 degrees on a daily basis here, and the gym has no air conditioning, only ceiling fans. This means it is difficult to know if you are bright red and sweating because you are working really hard, or simply because as soon as you do anything more than sit still here you feel hotter! Despite all this, we decided our first class would be spinning. We got there early to sit under the fans, and the class went pretty well. But, the instructor took it upon himself to strike up conversations with each of us in turn, at the hardest parts of the class. "So, where are you from? Why are you here? Lovely eyes, good Spanish etc etc" while the rest of the class carried on. Hopefully the longer we stay, the less of a novelty we become! 


The next day saw us decide a rumba class was a good idea. This is a dance class, in the country that gave us Shakira. Even the little kids on the street start moving when a beat starts up here... In short, we looked like idiots. But, the people are so nice here, and so interested, that even though we had no idea how to do it, we didn't feel that ridiculous. We decided that we would keep going to the class until we could actually do it. 


I might have to change my flight and stay longer...

My New Home!

Four hours on a bus brings you to Santa Marta, another coastal town in North Colombia. I arrived here on Sunday, to my new home for the next three months! It is actually daunting to arrive somewhere new knowing that you will be there a while, as you look at everything slightly differently than when you are just stopping through. As it was a Sunday, and Carnival as well, everything was shut. I took a left out of my hostel and wandered up the streets, everything was quiet except for sudden bursts of life every few streets. People were sat on plastic chairs by their front doors, blaring salsa, cumbia, reggaton and drinking beer, with some couples dancing in the streets. Then you would turn a corner, and all would be quiet again, except for maybe a stray dog lying panting in the shade.


I have found, in my limited experience, that in smaller towns people love to stare at the foreigner walking around, but here the stares aren't so bad! There are of course the usual comments that seem to follow girls around South America, but they seem to be such a standard these days that I would probably wonder what was wrong if all the men suddenly were polite and quiet! I was greeted with the usual couple of scary stories on arrival - someone got mugged, people have been held at knifepoint - but actually there is a nice atmosphere here, and I feel very comfortable walking around alone.


The sea front here is lined with small bars and restaurants, which are pretty expensive. Sitting right on the beach are vendors selling all kinds of things - cigarettes, drinks, food, ice-cream, USB sticks... There is also a massive digital clock which tells you the temperature, which constantly hovers around 35 degrees Celsius. It is HOT. The evenings bring a small break, as the breeze picks up and the sun lowers. But the temperature never seems to drop below 28 degrees, and the fan in my room is going constantly through the night in an attempt to cool things down! The heat also brings the bugs... I have killed several cockroaches so far (one by accident with my bare foot), and am sure there are more to come. Yuck.


The best discovery so far has been the street stalls that gather in a cluster in the centre of town, cooking all kinds of food, everything from pizza to arepa. For less than a pound you can feast on skewers of marinated chicken, or empanadas, or a full plate of food (fish, rice, salad). My new favourite is arepa con queso, a maize/corn bread cooked with cheese inside which is delicious! They also have fruit stalls everywhere, and you can get jugs of freshly blended juice to wash down all the delicious food. Some fruit I have never even seen before, let alone tried, so it is all a learning experience! 


So, I think the next three months could pass quite comfortably here, as long as I learn to get used to this heat!

Kalamary (Cartagena de Indias)

"Colombia tiene su cerebro en Bogota, pero su corazon en Cartagena de Indias"

I don't know if I can comment on where Colombia has it's heart, seeing as I have been here only two days, and this is the first city I have visited. But, if the quote is right then Colombia can only be good! Cartagena de Indias grabs you from the word go, as soon as I stepped off the plane I was hit by a wall of heat, despite the clouds! I got in a taxi, discovered I didn't understand a word the driver said (I was worried that it was the Colombian accent, but I think it may have just been him) and we drove into the town. My first impressions from the taxi window were of lots of traffic, people, stalls and noise. We drove past some sea - my first sight of the Carribean - and it looked yellowy and uninviting! The taxi got stuck between a bus and a cart, so I had time to watch three men get arrested and bundled into a police van, before we sped on...

My six-pounds-a-night-hostel is small and cramped, and again, HOT. But, for six pounds a night I can't complain too much. I decided to venture out for some food and explore a bit, and spent an hour walking around. The streets leading up to the old town are crammed with different stalls - old books, fruit, phone-chargers, and any spare space is filled with men sitting and chatting, smoking, spitting. It felt really dirty and loud once you added the traffic zooming past and the salsa music blaring from all the different speakers. "Nena, Americana, Blancita, Guapa, Lady, Amiga, Bonita" was all I could hear as I tried to figure out where I was going, and the whole package, combined with the fact I had got up at 3am to catch my flight, meant I was quickly overwhelmed. I did a quick lap of the old city and retreated to the hostel!

After a few hours of rest (and panic - why am I in Colombia on my own?!) I went back out and had much better luck. Today was even better. The old city is really beautiful - it is easy to see why it is a UNESCO World Heritage Site. 

 

Bright colourful buildings line every street, with flowers hanging from the balconies. The streets are busy: with locals and tourists alike. There isn't really very much traffic - unless you count the horse and carts that can give you a tour round the city. It is full of characters as well. I stopped at a cafe, in a church square, and was greeted by an old man in a hat with a grey mustache. He sat there like he owned the place, bossing the waitress around. The best part was his reaction every time a pretty girl went past - he waved regally at every single one of them, as though they were the luckiest people in the world to receive his attention. 

Every so often you come to a square, filled with palm trees and shade, the benches crammed with people looking for respite from the heat. The atmosphere is really different to any other place I have been before. It is only normal to compare to places you know, but so far Cartagena has escaped comparison! Maybe a touch of Barcelona here and there, a bit of Peru. Sometimes you can stop and there is no traffic, there are no tourists, and it feels like you have gone back in time...

The walls of the old city, looking out over the Carribean Sea.

Colonial Architecture that makes the city a UNESCO site

Some much needed shade!

Cliche Carribean!

Escaping the heat...

Where I will be:

This shows where I will be for the next three months! The flight arrives in Bogota, from there I fly to Cartagena, where I will spend a few days before travelling to the very north east of the country, Santa Marta.

One week (and one day) to go!

Colombia... ask most people what springs to mind and the response, nine out of ten times, is negative. Kidnapping is number one, I have heard all the jokes and also all the horror stories! Next up: drugs. Not to mention terrorism. This, combined with all the other 'friendly warnings' people love to share about travelling alone (and as a female) through South America may cause some people to wonder why I have picked to spend the foreseeable future in Colombia, on my own.


The answer isn't exactly clear to me either. This South America trip hasn't exactly been planned with precision. This time two weeks ago I wasn't even sure whether to head north or south from my touch-down point in Lima. The only thing I did know was that, actually, I didn't want to spend that long in Peru (the country I had booked my ticket to). The only thing I did know when booking the ticket was that I hadn't been ready to leave South America last November, and that if I didn't buy a ticket while I had the nerve, maybe I never would!


A few months later I found myself with a one-way ticket and no plan, so it came back down to volunteering again. My criteria was the same: working with kids and speaking Spanish, and this time I wanted, if possible, to do it somewhere sunny (I know, I know, not very selfless). I had a vague urge to go to Colombia despite its reputation, due to the word of mouth stories of people I met in Peru: the Colombian people are so friendly, it is nowhere near as dangerous as it is made out to be, and the scenery is incredible. These stories and recommendations, combined with a love of Garcia Marquez's books (which are set on the Carribean coast of Colombia) sold the Fundación Mariposas Amarillas organization to me, which actually, given the work they do, didn't really need to be sold...


http://fmacolombia.weebly.com/ 


And then, if I needed further convincing I read up on the town of Santa Marta: http://travel.nytimes.com/2010/09/19/travel/19nextstop.html 


 While the work with the children seems to be very similar to that of Peru (which can only be a good thing) the setting could not appear more different... So, this time in two weeks, I will be in Colombia, settling in. A prospect that seems so unreal as I sit in rainy, grey London!