Colombia

PHOEBE WALKER 7th PERIOD ENGLISH media type="file" key="111111111PHOEBE.m4a" Parade of Flowers

We were staying in a small sweet little hotel in the city of Medellin. This was my first year ever to come here to the festival of flowers and I was more excited then ever. Me and my sister ever since we were little had been dreaming of coming here. Our dream was to be here, with all the exquisite flowers, people, food, and culture. “Hola” (Hello), “Gracias” (Thank You) "De nada" (your welcome). For weeks before we studied the traditional Colombian laguage of Spanish, so that we could speak to and with the people, so we could ‘impress’ them, and most of all so that we could make our experience here even more than amazing! Once we got to our hotel, there were flowers everywhere! Roses by the dozens, sun flowers, lilies, and daisies covered the front desk. The festival of flowers is a huge deal here, people from all over the world come to see the beauty of the flowers. The festival is held in early May, when it is warm and just perfect for all the flowers.

“Hola” I said to the chubby old lady sitting in the chair behind the desk. “Hola” she said back with a big smile on her face. “Como.....”I said slowly so that i wouldn’t mess it up. “Estas?” I finished with a quick ending because I knew it was right. “Muy beun, gracias.” She responded. Her smile on her face came right back when she heard that I knew exactly what I was saying.  As we walked into our hotel room, the smell of flowers in the air floated around. The bed was made up nicely and right on top was a bunch of deep red roses with bright healthy green stems. It was marvelous. The next day we woke up to the beautiful sound of music. A man and woman were walking down the street playing. The man was playing a guitar and the woman was playing a tamberene. Bright colors accented their outfits. The woman was wearing a traditional dress of yellows, greens, deep reds, and bright whites. She looked amazing. My sister and I were so mezmorized by her dress that we thought that we should go out a try and find one to wear before going to the festival of flowers. We got dressed in our normal, uncolorful clothes and left the room when we were ready. Walking down the street, the streets were filled with all kinds of music. Every building was splashed with color. It was like every house had its own personality. Above me there was laundry hanging from a thin wire. The wire was strung from one apartment on one side into the apartment across the small street. Little boys and girls rode by, yelling and laughing as if no one could hear them. There were people filling up the whole street. Most of the small streets in Medellin were closed for this festival. Instead of cars, there were bikes with hundreds of bright colors painted on them. Instead of those huge department stores, there were little vendors overloaded with clothes to buy. Instead of that big fast food chain restaurant, there were[| petite] areas with delicious homemade foods and drinks with only a tent to shade them from the sun. We spent the day shopping along many the streets until it was dark. Outside it was more amazing than ever. The streets where filled with bright shining lights. Each light illuminated flowers. All the street venders where gone, but the streets, for some reason, were not empty. Eventually, we walked back to our hotel. That next morning, the sweet delicious smell of beans, eggs, and arepa filled our room. Once we were up and ready for our day’s adventure, we went to breakfast. We had a traditional Columbian breakfast of rice, beans and grilled beef, served with an egg on top and with a side is arepa. Arepa is a[| corn] like dough, kind of like a[| pupusa]. That same day we went out to see more flowers at the festival. They were exquisite, truly stunning. We noticed all of the different colors of the Orchids, the roses, the lillys, the Alstroemerias. On our walk home that night, we talked about how we were going to plant our own amazing little gardens when we got home after experiencing the flowers of Columbia. Even though I live in a apartment in the city. I could make do. Our trip to Columbia was truly breathtaking. The people were friendly and kind. Their food was awesome! and delish!! And the flowers. The flowers were amazing. My only wish is to have my garden flowers look like the ones in Columbia.

Colombia by Ramon Pareja Waking up to the smell of freshly made coffee I use all the energy I have to pull my self out of my bed, and into a standing position. It’s a new day but also a very bad day for my hometown in Bello Colombia. A couple days back there was a flood and a giant thunderstorm that took lives and left hundreds of my people homeless. I put on my blank white T-shirt that my mother made for me, some blue jeans, and a hard hat. Today Instead of selling fruit at the local market, me and my brother Andres are going to help out our neighbor hood in cleaning, and rebuilding houses. After getting all dressed I join my family to breakfast. For breakfast we are having (Calentado) witch is a plate made up of rice, eggs, beans, and grilled beef. My family has this almost every morning because its cheep and taste fantastic. When my mom and dad excuse me and my brother we head out to help the neighbor hood. My brother Andres sees a house in the distance, “hey there’s people crowding around the house lets go check it out” he says. When we get to the old destroyed house my brother and me are greeted by a military soldier of some type. “ Why is everyone crowded around this house?” I say, “ there is a young boy trapped inside the house but no one can seem to find to him,” the soldier says. “Would you mind if me and my brother look inside and try to find him?” I said. “Not at all” he said. As my brother and me walk up to the entrance of the house we can already see just how broken down the house is. The house looks like a pile of rocks and wood but my brother and me still look for the kid. When we enter the house I can smell something gross. It smells like some sort of dead meat or old food. My brother and me start to shout out things like “hello” is any one there? After yelling from the top of our lungs for almost and hour we can hear the small voice of a boy say “help! Help!” the voice is coming from another side of a wall in the kitchen of the house. Me and my brother look for a way into the other room behind the kitchen wall but there is no way so my brother grabs a large piece of ply wood and says “if you can hear me back away from the wall” but no one replies. But eager to save the boy my brother starts going nuts on the wall with his huge piece of plywood. “Why are you just standing there? Help Me,” my brother says, so I pick up a two by four and fallow his directions. When the wall is completely pummeled to the ground my brother and me can see the boy covered in dirt laying in a corner unconscious. I quickly grab the boy and rush him outside. “Somebody help,” I yelled. A medic finally arrives and immediately starts giving the boy medical attention. “Is he going to be alright?” Andres said. “Yes but if it wasn’t for you two he would be dead” the medic said. With relief that the boy is safe everyone around us thanks us for the kind duty we have just served. I am glad that today I have done something different today in Bello and happy that everyone sees Andres and me as heroes.

Sydney's Audio: media type="file" key="My Song 10.m4a" width="300" height="50" The prime cathedral, many people visit this place when they visit Columbia. Sports Center in Bogota, Columbia. It has amazing architecture. Colapatria Tower, in Bogota. Just one of the amazing buildings in Columbia. Gold museum in Bogota. There are many farms in Columbia because a huge part of their exports are fruits and coffee. Huge mountain ranges are in Columbia. There are also ancient ruins in Columbia. There are also beautiful beaches on both the Pacific Ocean and Atlantic Ocean.

map of Columbia Sydney's Essay: **The Proof is in the Soup** As I pushed though the crowd of pungent middle class people, I saw them. Swiftly flying by like bleu jays on a summer day. I couldn’t believe my eyes. I was finally going to see the Medlin Flower Fair. Amazing arrangements made with beauty and perfection in each rose, tulip, or poppy. From young strong men and women to old hunched over abuelos and abuelas, people carried the traditional silletas on their back. A silleta is a wooden structure that wraps around the head, shoulders, and waist. The back holds the colossal flower bouquet. I had finally made it from my diminutive Minnesotan town to Mediln, Columbia. It was the second week of august just in the middle of columbia’s traditional flower fair. And me, only a 24 year old Minnesotan who had dreamed of coming here since I was 12 years old after watching a special on Browallia viscosas. I had been a florist for two years and had majored in Floriculturist in college. As I watched the various silletas pass by I tried to listen to what the people around me where saying, though I had only taken Spanish for three years in high school. I finally figured out that people were cheering on family members and friends. “Va Jesus!” “Ay! Ay!” “Va abuela Maria!” Everyone stood around captivated by the artistry of the silletas. But I couldn’t believe that so many people came from all over Columbia to see a flower parade. As compared to Minnesota, where people gather together to have turtle races, and eating contests. After being completely emerged in watching the parade a strong and questionable noise coming from my stomach refocused my attention. I looked around but couldn't find any food stands or restaurants near by. I attempted to ask the lady next to me where I could find some grub. “Hola, senora. Yo tengo hambre. Nececito.... Comer.” I hoped that with some luck she under stood some part of my so-called spanish. “Sí... Una restaurant que se llama herbario.” she said slowly, clearly able to tell that I was an american. She pointed me in the right direction, with no other instructions other than her finger. I walked down the street in a fury, the noises in my stomach becoming more and more noticeable. Then with only the luck I have, I got a call from my mother back in Minnesota. She has never and will never understand my love for flowers or why I left Minnesota to see a flower parade. “Hello mother.” I could already hear the lecture in my head, about how much she has done for me, but I am a strange alien child who deserves no praise. “Hello dear, I just wanted to check in with you. And you should know I am paying one cent a minute for this long distance call, which I wouldn't even have to be making in the first place if you hadn't just left your nice sweet, safe home for some non important flower... whatever it is.” she declaimed in her all mighty voice. “Mother. I am fine and happy hear! You do not need to call me just to tell me how you dislike my decisions.” “Well, sweet pea I just don't think you should be out there all alone, with no help.” at first her words seem to taste like sugar but soon a strong vinegar after taste hits her words. “Mother! I can take care of my self! I am 24 years old! I have to go!” I hung up in exasperation. How dare she assume I cant take care of my self! Hell, I am the one who just found a beautiful restaurant in a language I haven't spoken in seven years! I opened the door to the restaurant and a man in a white shirt and black slacks brought me to a table. It was a nice change from red and yellow uniform at McDonalds. As my mind started to calm its self down I took in the place. It was beautiful red walls, beautiful chandeliers, and nice wooden tables. I looked at the menu and decided I would choose whatever I could comprehend. Luckily there was a section of sopas and I could understand crema de tomate india.

The waiter had seen that I was ready to order and came over to me. He obviously was efficient and kind in his work and made all his customers feel at ease. “Hola... Yo... Quiero... Crema de tomate india...?” After a bit of giggling and learning that he does speak english. I also learned that like many restaurants and businesses here, he inherited it from his father. He was very proud and excited to meet an american for the first time. When I got my soup it was absolutely delicoso! I also thought about my mother, and how she automatically assumed I couldn't make my way in a foreign country, but I knew that as I sat in a beautiful restaurant sipping my soup that I had proved her wrong.