The Bachelorette Pad

Who wants to see my digs?

The school found the apartment for me, and upon my arrival the apartment was furnished and ready to go, minus the gas.  After one day of a shower in 50 degree water, the gas turned on.  Now for the tour:
I live on the third floor.  I climb the stairs everyday.  I am proud at my kick to laziness by taking the stairs instead of the elevator.  It justifies me sitting two hours on the couch watching streaming-internet TV shows post-stair climb.  Once I climb the stairs, I come to my door:

Upon opening the door, I see my dining area straight ahead with the laundry room (complete with washer and old-school dryer, aka. drying rack) and half-bath on the right:

To the right, I see my living area and kitchen:

Then, straight ahead is a glass wall that looks right into my bedroom.  This strange element of my apartment allows the light from the only window to the outside to spread into the rest of my apartment.  It also lets my across-the-hall neighbors see their eyeful into my sleeping kingdom as straight across I have windows into the hallway.  I have since solved the problem.  More on that later.  Here's the bedroom, bathroom and closet:

My bedroom has a walk-in closet fit for a king (I have nowhere near enough clothes to fill it up) and a bathroom complete with a shower.

Come visit any time!

Post title courtesy of my current reality TV guilty-pleasure: The Bachelor Pad.

PRETZELS

My day has been made.  I had a sighting followed by a buying of Snyders Honey Mustard & Onion Pretzel Pieces.  I love them, to say the least (I may or may not finish the bag by licking my fingers clean of its honey mustardy-goodness).


One 16 oz. bag of Rold Gold's pretzels costs $6.00 in the nearby supermarket.  Over a 100% mark-up due to importation taxes.  But these babies are only marked up $0.30-ish from its price in dollars.


As long as I have my pretzels, I can live without the American specialties of White Cheddar Cheeze-Its and Cheddar Blasted Goldfish.

High Altitudes

Bogota is located 8,600 ft. above sea level.  I have been affected in the following ways:

Owen Wilson's not-so-dry nose

Nose - The first two weeks I had a chronic dry nose.  What's the big deal - IT HURT TO BREATHE.  Have you ever laid awake at night for hours because every time you took a breath through your nose it felt like ice?  So instead you switch to breathing through your mouth but then your mouth gets so dry its uncomfortable?  That leads me to my next challenge:


Thirst - Also upon my arrive I was in a constant state of thirst.  Something about less oxygen in the air means you get less oxygen into your body so your through is dry...maybe I'm making that up.  All I know is that for some reason 8,600 ft. has forced me into drinking that fabled necessary eight glasses of water a day.

Lower (Aka. No) Stamina - The stairs are difficult.  The treadmill at the gym OWNS me.  Why?  The high altitude of course.  I am enjoying that I can completely blame my inability to run two miles without stopping on the high altitude.  My inability is in no way related to the two months of summer I spent sitting on the couch and watching crappy-but-addictive reality TV shows.

Cooking - This I have researched (the following information is courtesy of the great United States Department of Agriculture).  The USDA informed me that starting at the altitude of 3,000 ft., food takes longer to cook because water boils at a lower temperature.  WHO KNEW?  I guess I did...I just didn't realize that my 10th grade chemistry course would actually be useful to reference when living in Colombia.  All I know is that when cooking onions at home it took 3459786 minutes fewer for them to reach the soft consistency I love than it did when cooking my onions for dinner as pictured below:

How high have you been?

Start of Something New

Hello!

I hope to keep all of you updated on my teaching endeavors and cultural encounters while I am living in Colombia.  I have based this blog around a theme (at the sake of being corny) of "foreign encounters."  What might be a foreign encounter?  For the purpose of this blog,  a foreign encounter is an experience that draws my attention, that seems "not normal" to me, and ultimately causes me to reevaluate what I consider normalcy.  Man, how many times can you write "foreign encounter" in one paragraph?

Look for the posts to come!

P.S.  This blog posts' title was inspired by High School Musical: