Labor of Independence

Today, in my home country, is Labor Day. Much of the world celebrates Labor Day on May 1, but in the United States it is the first Monday of September. Here in Brazil, it is not Labor Day. But it is a holiday. It's Independence Day.

A little bit too cold for me to go swimming, but good for the mural woman. With three eyes. That are fish.

This is an amazing occurrence to my mind. Without intending to do so, we have now been present for Independence Day in three countries in a row. We were in Colombia during their Independence Day, then in Lima for the Peruvian Independence Day, and now, again without knowing when it was, we happen to be here for Brazilian Independence Day.

The Google Doodle for the USA today - Labor Day

Brazilian independence is interesting, quite different from most of the other countries in South America. It harkens back to the Napoleonic Wars of the early 1800s. When Napoleon invaded the Iberian Peninsula, the royal family of Portugal had no desire to be captured or killed. While they still sent armies to fight, the royals themselves fled to their colony, Brazil. They set up a capital city in Rio de Janiero and gave Brazil something it had never had before: a royal court. This was also the only time in history that a city in South America was the capital of a European nation/empire.

The Google Doodle for Brazil today - Independence Day

Eventually Napoleon was defeated, but it had been a costly war. Portugal had debts to pay. What's more, new political movements not as enthralled with monarchy were springing up in Portugal. When your monarch is across the ocean, you feel more emboldened to say that maybe you should do without said monarch. So the king and queen had to return to Lisbon to consolidate their power. They left their 23 year old son, Dom Pedro, behind to serve as viceroy and rule over Brazil for them. Portugal used the natural resources of Brazil to help pay their debts. They also exported many finished European goods to the Brazilians as another source of income.

Looks like a huge hamster wheel, but there is meat going around being cooked by the heat at bottom right.

The trouble was the royal court of Brazil didn't love this. Plus, there were pro-independence movements springing up in Brazil. Some wanted full independence. Others wanted semi-independence in which Brazil had autonomy, but still a connection to the government of Lisbon. Their idea was to be ruled by a Portuguese prince, and they had one at hand.

Do you think these two individuals are from different species? Like is one an orc perhaps?

It was a troubling situation for Dom Pedro, worried about coups and overthrows or political machinations. Brazil started to act up. Portugal didn't like it. The king commanded his son to return to Portugal and threatened to send the military to keep the Brazilians in line. Dom Pedro had a choice to make.

He left Rio de Janiero, but not to go back to Portugal. Instead he headed south and went to São Paolo. Here, on September 7, 1922 he declared Brazil's independence from Portugal. He turned on his family.

Mosaic with mirrors on the light pole

Much like with the United States, declaring independence and being fully independent were not one and the same. There were some military skirmishes between Brazil and Portugal, but surpringly few. The British mediated the dispute and put a lot of pressure on Portugal to agree to letting its colony be independent. Dom Pedro was named Emperor of Brazil just over a month after his declaration of independence. But Portugal didn't accept the independence until three years after it was declared. And unlike most other countries in South America, independent Brazil was initially established as a monarchy. It didn't become a republic until 1889.

That's gotta be Doctor Doom or a Doctor Doom wannabe, right?

Back to the present, the last couple of days have been somewhat cold here. We're in the southern hemisphere and this is winter. It's not like the winters of Iowa where I grew up, no finger-numbing cold, no blowing snow. But it has been struggling to reach the sixties (in Fahrenheit.) That wouldn't be such a big deal, but the houses here are not built to keep out cold. There's no insulation, plenty of places for drafts to get it, and exterior walls made more of less of just wood. So it has been quite cold indoors.

Sleeping is okay, because we have put a lot of blankets on the bed. But getting up in the morning is a huge effort of will. I don't want to leave the warm bed and have to step out into the cold air. But I always do, because there is one thing you can't resist. Alrica and I have a saying: Bladders always win.

A view across the Little Lagoon

Yesterday, I took at walk to Lagoa Pequena, or the Little Lagoon. The island has several lagoons, little interior lakes. They come in a variety of sizes and the one closest to where we live is the smallest, hence its name.

Same lagoon, facing a different direction

Along the way I saw some very interesting murals and other art. I went past an area that has many restaurants and shops, seems to be set up for tourists. It's not a widely built up tourist area, but trending that way. As I said before, this is winter, so not tourist season. But there were certainly some around.

Longer walk than I thought. I passed the moon along the way.

Walking home again was so much colder than walking to the lagoon. I think that's because going there, the wind was at my back. Coming home it was intently directing itself at my face.

But I made it home! So I am here to day to celebrate Labor Day. Or Independence Day. Or Independent Labor Day. I don't know which. Happy Fill in the Blank Day to all of you!

Back to the Atlantic

Monday was a travel day. These are never our favorite days. And this one was a bit long because we had two flights, each over 3 hours. Neither individual flight was too long, but by the time you get to the airport three hours early, fly, have a layover, and fly again, it feels like you've been doing a lot more than you have. Our first flight took us from Lima, Peru to Santiago, Chile. Our layover was only two hours, so not too bad. We don't count Chile as a country we've been in. Our general rule is that if you don't leave the airport, it doesn't count. We'll check out Chile later.

Our second flight took us from Santiago, Chile to Florianopolis, Brazil. We crossed South America from the Pacific Ocean to the Atlantic Ocean. Florianopolis is on an island which is just off the mainland in southeastern Brazil. The island is called Ilha de Santa Catarina, or Island of Saint Catherine. Florianopolis is the biggest city on the island, on the west side, facing mainland Brazil. We are actually living in a smaller town called Campeche which is on the east side of the island, the side that faces the Atlantic Ocean.

That is the Ilha do Campeche across the water

We took a walk from our place to the beach. It's about 20 minutes walk, not bad at all. Personally, I'm not a huge beach, but this beach is lovely. It is very fine sand and well packed so easy to walk on. You can see an island called Ilha do Campeche right across from you and beyond that you can see out to the ocean. This island is a tourism spot, but this is the end of winter. We are way out of season. There were other people at the beach, but not too many. We sat in the shade, walked along the water with our feet bare, and just relaxed. The sounds of the ocean are very soothing. Plus we saw a group of sandpipers digging for food. Also, after a big wave came up on shore we would see mole crabs. They aren't true crabs, but they look like itty bitty white crabs. They dig under the sand and catch prey in the waves. When they get displaced, you can watch them sink back down into the sand as they dig their way back.

Can you imagine the sound of the waves?

Brazilians, unlike the citizens of many of the other countries in South America, speak Portuguese, not Spanish. I really know next to no Portuguese words, but I am learning. Knowing some Spanish can be very helpful and also very misleading.

There are a lot of similarities. For example, in both languages "carne" means meat (usually beef) and "sal" means salt. Other words are very similar, with only slight changes. As an example, in Spanish the words for "with" and "without" are "con" and "sin" respectively. In Portuguese those words are "com" and "sim". Or the words for "sugar" are "azúcar" in Spanish and "açúcar" in Portuguese.

Then there are the surprising words which are nothing alike. In a lot of Romance languages, the word for "chicken" is similar to the English word poultry. In Spanish it is "pollo". In French it is "poulet". But in Portuguese the word is "frango". "Strawberry" is another surprising difference. In Spanish it is "fresa", but in Portuguese it is "morango".

We aren't having any problems just because of the differences. Certainly we are better off here knowing none of the language than we were, for example, in Taiwan. Here, at least, they use the same alphabet. So we have some idea how to pronounce things.

One other big change from Lima to Florianopolis is rain. Lima is on the edge of a desert. It is very green near the ocean, but that is mainly due to coastal fog or rivers that come down from the Andes. The entire time we were in Lima, I never even touched my umbrella. In Florianopolis, it was raining when we arrived, rained that entire night, and partway into the next day. Looking out my window now, the clouds are getting thick. It is going to rain anytime now.

My own senses had to adjust. When we arrived, everything felt damp. The sheets on the bed felt damp when I touched them. The sofa felt damp. None of these things were actually damp, but my skin seemed to need a day to adjust to being in a place where the air isn't entirely dry. I don't remember ever experiencing that before. Now, I'm not having that sensation anymore. I think it really did go away in less than 24 hours for me.

No big arms for me!

Finally, look how cylindrical this Brazilian hydrant is!

Coyote vs Odysseus

Last night, I did something I rarely do: I went to see a movie in the cinema on its opening weekend.

This picture has nothing to do with this post. I just wonder what happened to the "I".

In truth, seeing a movie in the actual cinema is reasonably rare for us, and it very much depends on where we are. If I am going to see a movie, I want to see it in English with the voices of the original actors. That means it has to be subtitled in the native tongue rather than dubbed. In some parts of the world you don't have as many English language movies, and if you do, they are almost all dubbed.

Here in Peru, it is possible to see subtitled movies. So this is a good place to go see them. In fact, we have seen two movies in two different theaters during our time in Lima.

The first of these we did not see during its opening weekend. We saw The Odyssey. I'm not here to write reviews, I will just say this. It was okay. It wasn't great, though I appreciated a lot of the visual storytelling. The more or less horrible dialogue offset the visuals, leaving a mediocre movie, in my opinion. But I want to talk about an oddity of the theater.

For The Odyssey, we went to the nearest movie theater to where we living. I noticed at one point, in one of the very warlike, exciting scenes, the sound of distant booms, and the whole screen wiggled like it was shot during an earthquake. At first I thought this was a visual effect that Nolan was using. But then it happened again in a very calm and peaceful scene. That didn't make sense. Why the soft distant boom? Why would the screen shake during this scene?

That's when I realized the subtitles (in Spanish) were also shaking. And those would have been added post-production. So this wasn't an effect Nolan wanted. This was a problem of the theater. I concluded that when one of the neighboring films had loud booming action scenes, the sound system must shake the projector up in the projector room. This wiggling wasn't a visual chosen by the director. It was a design flaw in the theater.

The film we saw last night was Coyote vs Acme and we did go during its opening weekend. That is just not normal for me. But there were two major reasons I wanted specifically to see it during opening weekend.

You might guess that one of them was to desperately avoid spoilers. Good guess, but no. Living as we do, the chance of spoilers is very small (unless I specifically go online looking for spoilers.)

The first reason is that we are about to move from Lima, Peru to Florianopolis, Brazil. There are far fewer cinemas in Florianopolis, so it would be that much harder to see a movie and be sure I could find it subtitled rather than dubbed. In other words: timing.

The second reason was specific to this movie, to Coyote vs Acme. There is a controversy surrounding it. As you've probably heard, the movie was filmed, editing, and finished years ago. Then Warner Brothers decided that rather than release it, they were going to stick it in a vault and take a $30 million tax writer-off. (The movie had cost $70 million to make.) This was incredibly unfair to all the artists involved in the making of the movie. (This wasn't even the first time Warner Brothers did this. They had already shelved a completed movie, Batgirl.)

It was thanks to a huge campaign by fans and the artists involved that Warner Brothers said they were willing to sell the movie to another distributor. Some offers were rejected. But finally an independent distributor called Ketchup Entertainment bought the movie from Warner Brothers for $50 million. It is thanks to this that the movie is finally getting released, about three years late.

This plays at two levels, because Coyote vs Acme is about the "little guy" (Coyote) up against the big heartless corporation (Acme). And that's what we had going on off camera. The little guys were the artists, the big heartless corporation was Time-Warner.

I'm hoping that the opening weekend numbers are great. I hope they show the Time-Warner executives that they were idiots and send the message that unilaterally deciding to quash a piece of art for a tax write-off, while legal, is still a terrible thing to do. I can't make those opening weekend numbers be great. But I can contribute to them in one way, by paying to see the movie during its opening weekend. So I did. (I paid for two tickets. Alrica saw it too. Double the middle fingers to "the man"!)

We had to go to a different theater this time. The one nearest us was only showing the dubbed version of the movie. This theater had no issues with shaking projectors.

I don't want to give any spoilers, but I do want to share an interesting note about the subtitles. At one point in the movie, a character is communicating in Morse code. Another person is translating it letter by letter. The subtitles were also translating it letter by letter, except it wasn't the same letters. Let me explain what I mean: The first letter was "A". So the character on screen said "A". But the subtitles wrote "V". The next letter was "R" and the character said "R". But the subtitles wrote "A". What's going on? The subtitles were giving letter by letter what the ultimate phrase was going to be in Spanish. In English, the first word of the phrase was "Are", but in Spanish the first word of the phrase was "Vas". So when you make subtitles, you have to make a choice. Do you translate exactly what is being said, or do you translate it into the ultimate phrase that it is going to be. Obviously, in this case, they chose the latter, which I agree makes more sense.

I guess the final question you might wonder is this: Did we enjoy the movie? Yes we did. Quite a bit more so than the The Odyssey, but that wasn't a real high bar to clear. We didn't even need any Acme rocket skates or pogo shoes.

The Mystery of the Candelabra

On a two day trip, Alrica and I uncovered a mystery. Well, that may be overstating it. The mystery's been around for awhile. It was just new to us.

I speak of El Candelabro de Paracas (The Candelabra of Paracas.) You can see it below. But I am getting a bit ahead of myself, because we had adventures on our way to Paracas before we learned about the Candelabra.

El Candelabro de Paracas. The mystery is not what it represents (though I'm not sure that is certain either.)

We set out early in the morning, heading south out of Lima. Our first stop was longer than intended. We hit a place called Mirasur, really a nice roadside attraction where you could get filled bread and juice. We tried the breads, there were five varieties: Cheese, Ham and Cheese, Olive, Chocolate, and Manjar Blanco. Manjar blanco is a kind of caramel, similar to arequipa in Colombia, or dulce de leche in Mexico. I'm sure they all have their differences, though I'm not sure my palate noticed said differences.

Alrica feeding corn to horses

In addition to the breads, this stop had animals you could see and even feed: horses, a burro, alpacas, and goats. And there was a garden with a variety of plants and flowers, many with labels. It wasn't a bad stop, but it wasn't super exciting either. And we got to stay extra time. The company who ran the buses and tours, Peru Hop, had another bus break down. Not our bus, it was fine. And they needed that fine bus to get a group who was stranded. In return, we got to be stranded for awhile until another bus reached us. I'm not sure if that other bus also came from Lima or not. But it came.

The burro, which is a donkey

This wasn't a big deal. We probably spent an hour at a stop for which 20 minutes would have sufficed. But it was a pleasant temperature. Alrica and I only had backpacks, I'm sure it was a bit more annoying for the other guests who had real suitcases or roller bags. But everyone seemed to stay in a good mood about it.

The front arches of the Casa Hacienda San Jose

When our new bus rolled away, we headed to Casa Hacienda San José. Today, it is a hotel. But originally, it was the main house of a plantation. It was built in the 1750s, including a church which still holds Sunday services to this day. (We were there on a Tuesday, so no services, but we got to go inside. The church has a beautiful dark wood altar piece in the back.)

This altarpiece also dates from the middle of the 1700s

The hacienda is full of interesting antiques, has a large beautiful garden, and has a wide porch that goes around the entire house.

Antique typewriter meant for a WIDE piece of paper

Like many a plantation, Hacienda San José ran thanks to slave labor. Slavery was legal when Peru was a Spanish colony. When San Martin declared independence, he didn't abolish slavery entirely. He said that anyone born thereafter was free, even if born to a slave woman. But those who were already slaves remained slaves. It wasn't until the next president of Peru, Ramón Castilla, that slavery was abolished entirely, in 1854. (That's 11 years before it was abolished in the United States and it was one more year after that before Native American slavery was abolished in the US.)

One of the present day entrances to the tunnels

Sometime after slavery ended, one of the features of the plantation was lost. There were tunnels running under the house all the way down to the port, 17 kilometers away. But they had been forgotten. Then, in 2007, there was a powerful earthquake in the region that damaged many parts of the house. The tunnels were rediscovered in the aftermath of the earthquake.

Descent into the slave tunnels

These tunnels, which also date from the mid 18th century, were, as you might expect, a way to smuggle slaves from the port to the house. But not because slavery was illegal. It was perfectly legal. But it was also taxable. Plantation owners paid taxes on every slave they owned. The tunnels were a way for the owners of the hacienda to get slaves without paying the government the taxes due on them. I suppose if you aren't bothered about owning other humans, the moral outrage of stiffing the government isn't going to prick your conscience either. We got to walk a bit in the tunnels, though less than one kilometer, nowhere close to the full 17.

Though the big crop of the plantation was cotton, this machine is for grinding corn.

Casa Hacienda San José is in the Chincha region. This was and still is the center of the Afro-Peruvian culture of the country.

So many birds and so much guano

After the Hacienda, we went on to the town of Paracas. Paracas is not only the name of the town, but also of the region. The town of Paracas is the gateway to the Paracas National Reserve. And a people group that lived in this area over two millennia ago are called the Paracas. The word "paracas" itself comes from the quechua language and means "sand storm." Apparently sand storms are incredibly common in the region. Happily, we did not experience any.

A Humboldt penguin

Paracas, the town, is a little beach town. And August, here in the southern hemisphere, is the winter. So this is very obviously not the tourism season for them. All the blocks near the beach are built to house restaurants, bars, mini-markets, hostels, and hotels. But a large percentage of these weren't operating while we were there.

A family of Humboldt penguins

We enjoyed excellent seafood, slept in a nice hotel, but one which had a rooster as a near neighbor, and took a moonlight walk on the town's none-too-large beach. It was a nice town, and I imagine that in their summer it is bursting with people, music, and alcohol.

The sea lion must be bird watching with little red crabs beneath

The next morning we walked to the pier. Here we took a boat out to the Islas Ballestas. I'll get to those in just a moment, because this is when we finally reach our mystery. Along the way to the islands, we passed El Candelabro, which is carved into the ground. I'm not sure what is represents. Is it corn? Or a cactus? That's a little mystery. Here's the middle mystery: When was it made and by whom?

The family that lays around together...

Most people believe El Candelabro was carved into the ground by the Paracas people, possibly up to 2500 years ago. But no one is sure of that. Another suggestions is that this was carved by the Nazca people, part of the Nazca lines. That leads to some questions though. The Candelabra is several hundred kilometers north of all the other Nazca lines. Why would there be one up here, in a region far from all the others. Some people believe it was made by the armies of San Martin when he landed in Paracas to fight for Peru's independence in 1852. So here is the bigger mystery to my mind: How could we not know even which millennium saw these lines appear?

Apparently there is no written record of anyone having seen the Candelabra until after Peru's Independence. How could it have been there for 2000 years and either no one noticed it, or no one thought it was interesting enough to write about? That leads to another question: Could it really have lasted for over 2000 years? It would appear the answer is yes. Whoever carved this into the rock did so on the north side of the hill and the winds almost all come from the south. So this is super well protected. Plus this area almost never gets rain. Like once every few decades. So the water isn't eroding it. And the ground there is compacted with salt which apparently makes it very sturdy and hard.

I'm amazed that no scientist has a method of dating it. Also, I look at two possibilities: One) It was made well before the 1850s, but the why did no one ever make note of something so interesting? Or two) It wasn't made until the 1850s, but why would an army make it and not have any written records pertaining to them making it?

The red sands of Playa Roja

Continuing past the Candelabra, we reached the Islas Ballestas. Sometimes these are called the poor man's Galapagos. We saw lots of life here, including sea lions, crabs, Peruvian boobies, Peruvian pelicans, and Humboldt penguins. On the way to the islands we saw a whale breach, possibly a humpback whale, though we never got to see its tail to be sure. We also saw plenty of dolphins. It was amazing to see so many animals (and so much guano) contained in a small region.

Zoomed in view of the sand color

After the boat returned us to shore, we headed into the Paracas National Reserve. Here we saw Playa Roja which means Red Beach. Why is the sand red? The explanation given is that the area was underwater and volcanic. But that doesn't seem to me to fully explain it. Why was the beach red, but the land on which we were allowed to stand was yellow? Wasn't it also underwater and just as close to volcanoes? I never got a satisfactory answer.

We stopped for lunch near the city of Ica. Here I had a dish specific to the Ica region called carapulcra. It is a red potato stew. Mine was served with green spaghetti and a piece of chicken. The stew was good, the chicken and spaghetti were just okay.

After lunch we went to Huacachina. This is an itty bitty village, but it is built on an oasis. So there is a desert full of sand dunes, and there is this small oasis. All around the oasis are the restaurants, bars, and hotels. Plus there are businesses full of desert treks.

Colorful dune buggies

We headed out into the desert on dune buggies. (We weren't the drivers, merely passengers.) This was like living Super Mario Kart. Well, no banana peels or turtle shells, but up and down and sharp turns.

There's Alrica preparing for her downhill run

We also got to go sandboarding. It's basically sledding, but on the sand instead of on the snow. On a big dune, we got going very fast!

And we saw the sun set over the dunes.

Goodbye Sun

After that it was just the trip back to Lima. I slept, so clearly the trip tuckered me out.

So Much Independence

Last week I posted about Independence Day in Colombia. Today, well, it's Independence Day. Again. At least for me.

Today's Google Doodle (if you are in Peru, which I am.)

You see, we flew from Medellín, Colombia to Lima, Peru this past weekend. And today, eight days after Colombia's Independence Day is Peru's Independence Day.

Have you ever stopped to wonder why Independence Day in any country is the day that it is? I have. Like, the United States just celebrated 250 years. But that's only correct from one way of looking at independence. It was 250 years since the signing of the Declaration of Independence. But the USA was still under British rule. It would take a couple more years to decisively win the war and be truly independent.

So what counts as independence? In Colombia, they chose July 20 because of a flowerpot. Okay, the flowerpot is more an excuse. What happened is that in 1810, lots of the people of the region were unhappy with Spain. Spain had supported the Americans in the American revolution, but denied any idea of independence for its own new world colonies. The criollos were white people, those of Spanish heritage, who were born in the New World. They didn't have the same rights as people born in Spain. They were the revolutionaries, not the native South Americans who had even less freedom or consideration from the government.

The criollos went to a well-known merchant in Bogotá named José González Llorente and asked to borrow a decorative flowerpot. They expected him to refuse. They expected him to be indignant. They expected him to be insulting. And he did not disappoint. The argument that followed was heated and apparently, incendiary. This had been the criollos plan all along. They used this as the spark to ignite the indignation of criollos throughout Bogotá into action. And it worked. It led to a revolt that same day, July 20, 1810, which was the start of what would be the successful revolution.

You know, one independence day is hardly enough though. In Colombia they celebrate two of them, July 20 for the flowerpot incident and August 7. This one commemorates their victory over Spain nine years after the flowerpot incident, on August 7, 1819.

Peru's Independence Day, celebrated on July 28, is more similar to that of the United States. It is a day that independence was declared, even though it hadn't yet been won. A military leader named José de San Martín had brought a liberation army up from Chile. He and his troops made it to Lima and on July 28, 1821 he stood in the Plaza Mayor and declared that Peru was now independent of Spain. After that, there followed three and a half more years of fighting. And to really pull it off, San Martín needed help from the armies of Simón Bólivar and Antonio José de Sucre. But they did eventually win.

That's the Plaza Mayor and the statue of the man on the horse is San Martin

On Sunday we saw a parade going down our street to celebrate. I don't know what all is in store for us today, but there might be fireworks. We will see.

The parade. There is netting on our balcony, so I had to take pictures through that

Happy Independence Day! Again!

Overplayed

Last week, Alrica and I were playing a game. It was from the archives of the NY Times Connections game. You have sixteen words and you have to group them into four categories of four. Four of the words were Donkey, Doolittle, Axel, and Akeem. I realized those were all Eddie Murphy roles. Alrica, who never remembers the names of characters in movies unless they are basically the title character, couldn't remember Axel. So we discussed Beverly Hills Cop.

A couple days after that we decided to rewatch Beverly Hills Cop as each of us hadn't seen it since the 80s, when it came out. The main musical theme in that move is the song Axel F which was written for the movie and named for Murphy's character, Axel Foley. I like the song Axel F. But I have to say, after rewatching that movie I was thinking, "Couldn't they have hired a composer to write one or two other instrumental pieces for different moments in the film?" I mean, unless we were listening to a pop song, the background music was almost always Axel F or maybe once it was a toned down more serious version of Axel F.

Additionally, I remembered that movie being a lot funnier than I found it now. Of course, I was a lot teenagier when I saw it back then, so that could account for the change in the perceived level of humor.

This past Monday, July 20, was Independence Day. Of course, I don't mean in the United States. I mean here in Colombia, July 20 is Independence Day. On Monday itself, things were generally quiet. Independence Day seems to be a time to spend with your family, not in raucous celebrations. But in the week leading up to Independence Day, there was plenty of sound and fury (metaphoric fury.)

Several times during the week, we heard the thundering of drums. They were a bit distant, but as they grew closer we could make out brass instruments. Then as the procession of sound got even closer, we could hear woodwinds.

Parade view from on high

It was a parade. Each time the parade happened, it got bigger. But all three parades (which we could see from our balcony once they got to the street a block from our place) involved bands which were heavy on percussion. The third parade, on Sunday, the day before Independence Day, was the largest. Several bands, different community groups, and members of the military marched through the streets. And through it all, I could only discern two different songs. One of them, I didn't recognize. Perhaps it was the Colombian National Anthem. But the other was The Ants Go Marching One by One (hurrah, hurrah.)

It included horses! Unless that was just coincidence that a bunch of horsemen were riding by at the same time and on the same route as the parade.

I thought that was a strange choice of song. So I looked it up. The tune The Ants Go Marching One by One (hurrah, hurrah) is actually the tune from When Johnny Comes Marching Home Again (also hurrah, hurrah.) That's a song about welcoming back soldiers who are returning home from a war. That makes a bit more sense for an Independence Day parade than a song for children about ants. But this was entirely instrumental, so in my head there were lyrics about ants, shoe-tying, and closing portals such as doors and gates.

On a separate note, I did one of my walking explorations. I saw a man on a unicycle juggling blades in front of traffic as they waited at a red light. I went to what I thought was a park (because it was green on the map) and discovered was a cemetery. That cemetary has the grave of Pablo Escobar, the famous drug cartel leader who is known for corruption and importing hippopotami. I was unable to get a good picture of his grave though because a tour group was visiting.

I wonder what his income per red light cycle is

Ugh! Now I have the song about the ants stuck in my head! Well, if it gets too annoying I will try to wipe it from my mind by humming Axel F.

The Chocolate Olympian

Some things are universal. Okay, that's an overstatement. They are global. They are seen everywhere in the world. You find Coca-Cola everywhere. You can see football (soccer) being played by kids everywhere. Toyota cars are on the roads in every country. And those Toyota cars stop at red octagonal stop signs. (Though in many places, using a stop sign of any sort is a last resort. But when they do, it is red and eight-sided.)

But some of the many things that have spread wide and far haven't conquered the entire world. They are nearly global, maybe globalesque. Think of the metric system. In most countries if I were to say it were seventy degrees outside, I would be dismissed as a madman. (Well, dismissed as an American.)

One product we have found all over the world, but we had never experienced in the United States is Milo.

With way more sugar than you need, says so on the bag!

Milo is a chocolate powder to be mixed in water or milk (much creamier in milk, of course). It was developed by Nestlé to deliver balanced nutrition that kids would love to ingest. It has vitamins and mineral salts and proteins. It was developed in Australia and first introduced there in 1934. Let's just say, it was popular.

The name comes from Milo of Croton, renowned for his massive strength. He was an athlete in Greece (from the city of Croton) who lived in the 6th century BCE. His strength was legendary, comparisons were often made to Hercules. Though a key difference is that Hercules is mythological, whereas Milo is historical. Several historians of the time wrote about him.

Milo was famous as a wrestler. He won the boy's wrestling competition at the 60th Olympics held in ancient Greece. Then eight years later he won men's wrestling. He did so four more times over the next four Olympics. Milo was in his forties when he won at the 66th Olympics.

Though Milo was historical, there are still many legendary stories about him. In particular, the story of his death is questionably apocryphal. Milo loved to show off how strong he was. According to the legend, one day while traveling in the country, he came across a villager who was trying to split a tree stump using wedges and a hammer. Milo asked if he could try to pull it apart with his bare hands. The villager readily agreed and then went off to get them some food.

At this juncture, Milo inserted his fingers into the crack the villager had made. As he struggled and pulled, the wedges came out and the stump closed around the fingers of both of Milo's hands. He couldn't pull them out. It was while Milo was so incommoded that some sort of wild animal or animals came upon him. (In some stories it is a pack of wolves, in others it is a single lion.) Being unable to defend himself, Milo was killed and partially eaten.

But getting back to Milo (the drink, not the wrestler), it has spread across Oceania, Asia, Africa, and South America but never really caught on too much in North America or Europe. In the USA, Nestlé developed a similar, though not identical product they called Quik. They weren't so concerned about filling it with nutrients, just in making it delicious. The goal was to get kids to drink more milk. It was released in 1948. This is 14 years after the launch of Milo. Why didn't Nestlé just bring Milo over? I have no idea.

In 1950, Quik was introduced in Europe, but they called it Nesquik there. In 1999, they changed the name to Nesquik everywhere it was sold.

The two products have some key differences, like what minerals and vitamins are or are not included. But there is a textural difference too. Nesquik dissolves completely, leaving you with a fully liquid chocolate milk. Milo always has undissolved flakes which add some texture and crunch. That's considered a positive feature in the more Milo obsessed parts of the world. One popular variant of the drink, called either Milo Dinosaur or Milo Volcano, is to make Milo and then heap a big pile of the undissolved powder in a cone on top of it and enjoy it that way.

Perhaps the most important distinction is where you can get Milo versus where you can get Nesquik. Both are available at grocery stores for you to make at home. But Milo is a popular drink served in many restaurants. You can order Hot Milo or Iced Milo. (Milo is always made hot so the powder will mostly dissolve. It can then be iced to be served cold.)

While Milo is found in some many places, and the name is always Milo, the pronunciation varies. In Australia, where it began, it is pronounced MY-low, much like how an English speaker would pronounce the name Milo. In South America it is pronounced MEE-low, because the letter i would be pronounced ee. In East Asia is it mee-LOW with the stress on the second syllable. And the LOW is held out, sort of saying mee-LOOOW.

I learned this when I was trying to order it once in Cambodia. I did eventually get what I wanted, but it was the vendor at the drink stand who educated me as to the the correct way to pronounce the beverage name.

Recognizing that I have probably already tried the patience of my readers going on this long about a chocolate beverage, let me assuage your patience with pictures of pretty flowers I saw here in Colombia today.

Did it work? Did the assuagement work? Or are you now thirsting for a refreshing Iced Milo. Just be careful not to get your fingers caught inside. That's when the wolves and the lions come.

Rock, Stock, and Burro

We took a trip yesterday out of Medellín. We headed east and visited several sites. We got to see a view atop a rock, a decorated block, a dock, livestock, and a squawking, walking flock.

Can you say "sore knees?"

Our tour took us to La Piedra. This literally means "The Rock" or "The Stone". La Piedra is an inselberg. That means an isolated rock hill or small mountain. This particular inselberg was formed around 65 million years ago in a volcanic eruption. It is mostly hard granite and it has resisted erosion better than the surrounding landscape, so it sticks up all alone. It is also called El Peñon de Guatapé. Guatapé is the municipality it is found in.

One of the views from the top

The indigenous people of this part of Colombia, the Tahamí, worshipped the rock. Whether or not any of them ever climbed it is not recorded in history. The first official ascent to the top of the rock was in 1954. It took three men five days to do it. One of those men, Luis Eduardo Villegas López, saw the view from the top and had an idea. He bought the land that contained the rock and the nearby area from the local farmers. The farmers were glad to get some money for it. It was useless for farming.

Another view from the top

Villegas López then built two sets of stairs into a crack that goes up one side of the rock. He opened it up to tourism, and it worked. The Villegas family still owns the land and makes their living off of tourism.

Some islands are connected by bridges, but not most

Alrica sensibly decided to remain in the restaurants and tourism spots at the base. My daughter and I have less sense. We paid for the right to climb 708 stairs up to the top. We were rewarded with spectacular views of the surrounding lake, the dam, and the mountains that surround the area. We were also rewarded with accelerated heart rates and jelly legs.

More of those disconnected islands

The lake is pretty interesting. It isn't a natural lake, but was formed when the Colombian government had an idea. (Having an idea is a bit of a running theme here.) They decided to build a hydroelectric dam. But there was a town beside the river, Guatapé. The government made everyone in the town move two kilometers upstream. They gave displaced families a house, or if you were a widow or single, you got money. The locals were furious. They were in the flat area where they could best grow their big crop, the tomato. While they weren't moved far, it still meant giving up the best land.

Zocalo of a stubborn donkey, probably how the citizens felt

The lake stretches many kilometers. In the area near La Piedra, it forms islands, pockets of land that were hills before it was all flooded. Today, those islands are luxury locations and places for the very wealthy to build homes. I can see the appeal. Not only is it lovely, but this is not that far from the equator. There isn't a lot of seasonal variation, and they never have winter. So you can enjoy the water year round.

So many beautiful colors

After we left La Piedra, we visited the new site of Guatapé. The village is very interesting. The walls of this new town were built with a mix of clay, cow manure, and cow's blood. But the bases of the walls were reinforced with concrete. After the homes were built, one man, José María Parra Jiménez, had an idea. Parra Jiménez decided to decorate the base of his home with bas-relief panels depicting a lamb. This was symbolic of Jesus. Others in the town loved this and asked if Parra Jiménez could make something similar for them. But not just lambs. At the homes of bakers, the bas-relief showed ovens and bread. At the homes of farmers, they often showed livestock or farming or crops. Some homes had geometric designs. Some had fishing poles.

The lambs that started it all

Sure enough, the building inside is a bakery

These panels are called zócalos. That surprised me a little bit, because in Mexico the Zocalo is the center square or plaza of a city. But here it refers to the panels. Now, almost every building in Guatapé is painted in bright bold colors and has zócalos along its base.

Cameras

This is a Stationery of the World store. I like the globes.

In the center of Guatapé on one side of the Parque Principal is a church, La Iglesia de Nuestra Señora del Carmen. This also has four panels on it, one beneath each of the four pillars. (I'm not sure if these panels count as zócalos or not.) The four panels are dedicated to four saints, the authors of the four gospels. San Mateo displays a human head. San Marco displays the head of what I thought was maybe a dog or a wolf. (I was wrong.) San Lucas displays the head of a bull. And San Juan displays the head of an eagle. I wondered, why three animals and one human? I did a bit of research and found out this is Catholic symbolism called the tetramorph. I also learned that what I took to be the head of a dog for San Marco is actually a lion. Well, a lion's head.

The church and its four panels

San Mateo

San Marco

San Lucas

San Juan

We were supposed to have a boat tour on the lake. And we did have the start of the boat tour. There were announcements over speakers, first in Spanish, and then in English, telling us about the things we were seeing. We had just learned about the big cross sticking out of the lake. It was the site of the church in the original city of Guatapé which had been demolished to flood the land. But the English language announcement was cut off mid-sentence. There was a medical emergency. At one point, our tour guide got on the PA system and asked if there were any American doctors on board. (She did say "American doctors" but I suspect all she really wanted was a doctor who spoke English.)

The Cross on a pillar in the lake

As you might guess, the boat ride was cut short. From another announcement asking if anyone on board had any sweets, I suspect the medical emergency had to do with someone who was diabetic. I did see the woman who had fallen, and she was so pale, like white as my dry-erase whiteboard.

Alpaca eating, wants nothing to do with me

Our last stop was at a petting zoo with lots of animals and baby animals. This included many South American animals like alpacas, llamas, and guinea pigs. But we also saw ostriches, pigs, donkeys, goats, burros, sheep, chickens, geese, ducks, and horses.

Ostrich babies also want nothing to do with me

Even the pig seems unconcerned with my existence

From there we headed back to Medellín. We stopped at a restaurant in the city and watched much of the Argentina vs Cape Verde soccer game. It went into "overtime" which is called "extra time" and we left before that ended. We wanted to be home before the Colombia vs Ghana game began. Colombia won, which is great, but it did mean another night of going to sleep to the sound of horns honking. Though I wonder what we would have heard had they lost?