Have I ever mentioned that my life here is ridiculous?
Allow me to explain, my life is not ridiculous in the sense of “we are the playthings of the gods”, ridiculious, but In the sense that during the month I’ve lived with these wonderfully bizarre racers, I seem to eternally witness events and conversations where everything is so far from normal, reality is laughable. In fact, I find myself in these situations so often, that I can do nothing but throw my hands up in the air and laugh with the realization of how whimsical my new normal is, so here are some of the highlights for your delight.
The first day I arrived in Medellín, my team leader speared a rat with a pocket knife duct-taped to a broomstick because she had a bet with another team leader that allowed the first team leader to have her signature tattooed into the second team leader’s butt. Furthermore, it was not enough to murder said rat (lovingly referred to as Charles Schwab Jr.), it must have been disposed of by being tossed onto a trash pile in the middle of our derelict home to rot in the company of a dead rat found earlier (Charles Schwab Sr.). Obviously, the laws of decomposition still applied, so both rats rotted together to the delight of the olfactory senses of the denizens of the house, myself included.
Halfway through month one, after barely touching her meal, one of my squadmates went up to throw her food in the organic waste bucket, but after recieving gentle words of reproof from the cook (in rapid Spanish, might I add) just stood dazedly in the middle of the dining, threw her food away, and sprinted away as far as she could, looking as sheepish as a human possibly can.
The Wednesday before debrief, after doing some street evangelism and the sin chair skit, 13 humans and were crammed into the bed of a pickup truck, 5 were jammed in the backseat of the truck, and 3 were wedged in the front seat, totalling 19 very hot and uncomfortable humans, not to mention 1 recovering plastic chair.
The day before debrief, on the first Emergency room visit, three hilarious ladies and I met a doctor who was born in Chicago, thinks in German, and practices in Colombia, in addition to not seeming to know much about medicine or the meaning of “good news”.
Most evenings during debreif, some squadmates and I went to play soccer at a nearby sport park complex, but because every astroturf court was invariably occupied, we always ended up playing in the empty sand court, where we witnessed more slapstick kicks and spectacular falls than I can care to recount, not to mention always ending up sandy, sweaty, exhausted, and aching from overmuch laughter.
On the bus to Quito, two of my squadmates created a music video to Nicky Minaj’s Starships, a video that included dramatic lip syncing, dancing in the bathroom, and an eerie plastic baby hand. Need I explain it further?
En Route to Quito, after announcing a potty break for one person that needed to go to the bathroom, half the girls on the squad got off the bus, rushed to the rest stop only to find that it was being washed and consenquently not open, and so trooped back to the bus with palpable disappointment.
A few days after arriving, two of the squad leaders and I went to buy eleven sim cards, twelve activations, nine five-dollar recharges, and three ten-dollar recharges, all to one shop with one vendor. The entire trip took about three hours.
However, with all things, including the embarrasment of the moments, considered, I’ve decided that I don´t want to spend the next eight months doing anything else with anyone else. Therefore, I propose a toast (while I raise a metaphorical glass of a world-race-approved non-alcoholic drink) to all the ridiculous moments, the awakward silences, and the deep belly laughs to come. Cheers!
