Blurred Lines

I have officially made it a month. I’m not sure how that happened so quickly. I’ve definitely found myself venturing out more. I’m somewhat more comfortable talking but I’m still definitely still timid. That’ll change.

I went to Gringo Tuesdays last week. That is probably the biggest language exchange. It’s certainly the biggest party. It’s amazing how many people are there. It is so crowded with people eager to learn and practice a new language.

I met two guys there. Both were engineers hoping to improve their English to further themselves in their career. They were equally happy to speak in Spanish with me.

We talked about family, friends, hobbies, etc. Somewhere along the way, he asked me about finding an apartment here. When finding an apartment here, you not only have to have good credit and a deposit, you also need to have Colombian cosigners with good credit. Clearly that is not the route I could take.

I explained the avenue I travelled to get my furnished apartment. He was familiar since he had done something similar when he travelled to Australia. But when I told him a ballpark figure of the apartment, he was shocked at how much it cost. My apartment is about $1.500.000COP. I say that for shock value. That only comes to roughly $600 USD. Even after I explained that it was fully furnished, he was still in shock. Here I thought I was getting a great deal.

Bogota functions on somewhat of a caste system. It is divided into six socioeconomic strata called “estratos.” Six is the most expensive. Although you are not held to the standard, as a general rule (from what I’m told) your estrato determines where you will eat, live, work and socialize. It’s not uncommon to hear someone talk in passing about someone and describe them by their estrato.

It doesn’t seem fair that you should be held or confined to your own section of town. Furthermore, it doesn't seem fair to inherit social position with the privileges and/or limitations begotten by the previous generation as opposed to the fruits of your own labors. To me, it seems that this keeps the entitled arrogant and the impoverished in pain. When barriers such as these are broken down and lines like this are blurred, it humbles the self-centered and permits those who struggle to dream.

We say we don’t have a caste system at home. But it’s evident that we do. All you have to do is cross the not-so-figurative train tracks to find it. Those living further north have more money. Much like how MLK or Malcolm X Blvd/St/Dr can usually be found in the “more ethnic” neighborhoods across the US, I’m starting to feel “north” in most cities and countries is indicative of wealth.

And as much as we don’t want to admit it, that’s kind of how it will stay. When you have more, you spend more. When you spend more, you get better quality. You tend to work with, live by and associate with people like you.

And I’m going to say something that my super-sensitive-to-separate-sentiments self never thought I would say. That’s ok. It’s totally ok to lean on people like you. It’s totally acceptable to share with like minds your struggles. After all, a lawyer will not understand what it means to be a doctor.

The problem comes when we stay our happy selves in those comfortable places. I like to think I’m a decent and good person. But I honestly don’t step outside of my general vicinity much. Here it’s a different story. Here I have money and I’m pretty comfortable (with respect to money and living conditions). But the reality is, I don’t have a job. So sometimes I live and eat as if I don’t have the money.

I haven’t spent that much time in other estratos. But I can say, when I have gone to less financially enhanced parts, I have had the most fun. Those were the times where I experienced the purest of enjoyment because it was strictly based on my interaction with the people around me. No phones, no TV, no high-tech games. It is just me, a group, conversation, music and dancing in the streets.

The two guys I met mentioned they lived in Estrato 3 and 4. I live in Estrato 5. I thought I chose the middle. I definitely thought I was a solid 3 or 4, but that was by U.S. standards.

Other than social status, the difference between the estratos is the income and the amount they are expected to pay in utilities. Which, in theory seems genius and right. Those who live in the higher estratos pay more for utilities and those in the lower estratos pay less.

I know many will disagree with that idea. As someone who has made a decent amount of money, it does suck to pay more for something for which others pay less. But the difference in my paying more means I may not get to buy that pair of shoes this week. Someone else paying an equal amount means they may not be able to feed their child. Big picture? I’ll “suffer.”

I asked what the average salary is. They told me $20k-$30k USD. The average in the U.S. is somewhere around $53k USD. He then told me there were people with families living on $200-$300 USD per month.

Sure. The cost of living is different. Life can certainly be cheaper here. But $200 still doesn’t go super far.

I remember the times I sat around a table with my friends discussing (over food and margaritas) how broke we were. It looks as dumb typed out as it sounds out loud. How many times have I talked about how real my struggle is? My struggle was definitely a cakewalk.

One of the guys mentioned he wanted to go to the U.S. just to visit. He wanted to live there for a few months. He asked how much an apartment would be. He was expecting about $500 in a really nice area. I felt terrible to give him reality. He was so excited when he first spoke of it. But the moment that I told him what an average one-bedroom furnished apartment could cost, I saw the spark fall from his eye.

I felt like I had stolen a dream. I told him I’m sure that there are avenues of which I was unaware. I mean, I’ve never been a tourist in the U.S.

Moments like these re-remind me of how obscenely blessed I am to have this opportunity. So many

people here want to travel and live in a different country, but cannot. Each time I walk out on my front stoop, look to my left and see a massive beautiful mountain and walk the streets of Bogota, I take a moment to thank God.

Nina Simone once said freedom is “like a new way of seeing something.” Each day I’m here, I experience freedom in some way. And I’m not only glad I can feel it, but I’m glad I recognize it.