There are so many features about being here that tell me that I am no longer in Canada. Perhaps in a big city such as Bogotá the difference wouldn't seem so dramatic, given that all major cities tend to be alike, but in the smaller towns the people often appear to be much truer to their cultural roots, whether they intend to be or not. This isn't to say that they are necessarily going to be more conservative, politically or socially, but usually they are. Here in the smaller towns and cities, people are going to be closer to their agricultural roots. There is something very elemental and visceral about the way the land connects people to their sense of identity and heritage. Ask any indigenous person in Canada, or in the United States, or in Colombia. I have also noticed in the smaller cities and towns that there are proportionately more workers, which is to say, people who work with their hands and muscles for a living. People who are not as likely to have graduated from university. The family unit is likely to be stronger, perhaps a lot stronger, but that also depends on the country or culture. For example, the family unit in Canada is not particularly strong as it is in Latin American countries, where siblings and even cousins often remain best friends well into their adult years and no one is going to look at you funny if you happen to be a man in your thirties and still living with your mother, or that you talk with her on the phone every day.
When I visit Colombia or other places in Latin America, I am sometimes reminded of what many older people might think of as a kinder and gentler era in Canada, when I was still a child. There was that similar lack of general sophistication, or should I say lack of pretension, given that if there is a line between being sophisticated and being pretentious, it is going to be very thin and blurry. Families were stronger in those days, but this often also meant that women, and occasionally men, would remain trapped inside hostile and abusive marriages because it was simply harder to get a divorce in those days.
There was also more publicly acknowledged religious faith, and everyone looked more or less the same. Which still is the case for many Colombians, given that the majority are still observant Catholics and they do not enjoy the kind of cultural diversity that has long been taken for granted in Canada. I have no personal nostalgia for those days, by the way, given that there was also such rampant ignorance, intolerance and hostility towards anyone who was different. People of colour were still being shamelessly and relentlessly discriminated against (and we still have a long way to go) and it could be almost as dangerous being an openly gay man anywhere in Canada during the fifties and sixties, as being a Jew in Nazi-occupied Europe . I am also under the impression that even small town Colombians are going to be often more progressive than people were in Canada before both Kennedys were shot and before there was publicly-funded health care in Canada. But even if there are still racism, homophobia and a tendency towards holding more conservative values and beliefs in Colombia, I am also assured and persuaded that there are also many progressive and open-minded Colombians, and I can say this with certainty because I happen to know some of them. And by the same token, we still have plenty of Canadians who are backward and die-hard conservatives.
My time here in Colombia is still pleasantly uneventful. I did my own walkabouts yesterday, and had some pleasant conversations with friendly strangers. A lot of people here seem curious about outsiders and it can be fun having conversations in Spanish with those approachable locals where we can learn a bit about each other's countries and lives. One fellow, who works in one of the bare-bones and unpretentious cafes here, seemed curious about what I was drawing, and came out to talk to me as I was seated at a sidewalk table.
Today, Alonso, who is my host, and I did a long walkabout through the town of Madrid. Much of the city looks rather like East Hastings and Main, but the occupants are just ordinary working Colombians getting on with their lives. Everything and everyone tends to spill out onto the sidewalks, and everywhere there is merchandise on display, or piles of fruits and vegetables, or sidewalk vendors selling almost everything you could ask or imagine. And there are people everywhere, and all kinds of Latin music blaring from different storefronts. One very serious and stone-face woman of a certain age was handing out little pamphlets, so I accepted one. It turned out to be some kind of scam invoking the Virgin Mary to help cure male impotence. Hmm, rather like all those old men who wear long white dresses and presume to teach women against the evils of birth control and abortion, methinks.. I kind of understand now why the lady didn't smile or acknowledge me when I thanked her for the pamphlet. I almost said "sorry", good Canadian that I am.
We sat in the town square for a while, taking in the sights and people watching. It is a beautiful place, full of plants and flowers and trees and surrounded by heritage buildings that date back more than 200 years. One of the local native doves was perched in the small tree just above where I was going to sit in the shade. Alonso pointed it out to me by way of warning me, given what birds are often famous for doing to people that are dumb enough to sit under them, so I sat on the stone wall instead, till the coast was clear. There is a river that runs through Madrid and some of it is public green space that makes for an enjoyable walk. We then visited the big shopping mall, where there was a book fair, so I bought a couple of books in Spanish. When I was washing my hands in the men's washroom, a female security guard came in to have a quick look. Maybe she wanted to check and make sure I was washing my hands. Her face had the same look as the lady with the pamphlets about asking the Virgin Mary to cure male impotence.
So far, so good, Gentle Reader.
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