REAR WINDOW July 7, 2022

I’ve never lived in a tower block. My thinking about them has been governed by watching the movie Rear Window with Jimmy Stewart and Grace Kelly when I was twelve and the blocks of flats built along Scotswood Road in Newcastle in the sixties after the city council had cleared the back-to-back terracing of 19th century housing.        

Living in a high rise for the first time has been strange. I watch my neighbors going about their everyday lives.  Being eleven stories in the air  can be intimidating and I am rarely brave enough to go sit on the balcony. Some flat owners must feel the same because they have installed thin mesh screening across the front of their balcony.  Unlike the towers in Newcastle, ours have two levels of car parks. Some more recently built towers are like high rise hotels with magnificent glass frontages. Motorbike riders arrive at the security entrance at all hours, are checked carefully by smartly uniformed guards and deliver meals, groceries, packages, and anything residents want. The tower blocks are self-contained microcosms of Colombian middle-class life and judging from the cranes, more are being built. The world is getting crowded, and the only way is up.

 

Thinking of Scotswood Road put me in mind of the hundreds of pubs all along  the road opposite the factories, like the Forge & Hammer, a name reflecting the once-mighty presence of the Vickers-Armstrong factory, known as the ‘workshop of the world’ which drove the British Empire. The men would pour out of the factories and into the pubs. The whole area was a “no-go” area for the police.  My great Aunt Gertrude, a deaconess, did social work there in the 1920’s which reminded me of Medellin’s social problems.

It is easy to forget our own past and its social problems.

 

Of my neighbors, a most heartwarming sight, has been a portly gentleman probably in his fifties who, when he gets home from work, strips off and waters all the plants on his balcony.  The fact that he cares for them and they are so green and lush spares him and us any blushes.

 

The tower blocks also reminded me of my years in Singapore when the Housing and Developing Board adopted the high rise as a way of uniting the country and giving all Singaporeans the opportunity to own a home. Lee Kwan Yew believed that if you owned a stake in society, you were less likely to riot or burn down your neighbor’s home.  Singapore’s GDP now rivals that of the US. Goh Keng Swee, his deputy, passed on the idea to China as the blueprint for the development of its own coastal cities. Now high-rise living has become the engine of social and industrial growth and stability in many parts of the world. Unfortunately, in Medellin it allows for greater car ownership.  To counter the traffic jams, Colombians have rush-hour driving restrictions based on license plates. One day a week, cars with a certain number plate are restricted from using the city. It’s called “pica y placa” and is enforced by electronic scanners. Not sure Phoenicians would find such a driving regulation acceptable.

 

Living on the 11th floor we have a splendid view over a busy intersection. It’s noisy and at peak times very busy as cars go from one set of traffic lights to the next. At the busiest times it is like the Open Category (if it exists) of an Isle of Man TT race with 3 lanes of traffic in both directions and forty plus motorcyclists. Colombians are busy people with places to go and stuff to deliver. Lane discipline is a matter of honking and missing each other or any other subterfuge or short cut that is acceptable.

I have only witnessed one major accident so far. I am sorry to say the motorcyclist came off worse and lay prostrate in the middle of the road, his legs not moving for a long time waiting for the ambulance and then waiting for an even longer time before he was hoisted successfully into the back of an ambulance.  He then waited  for the police to arrive who didn’t seem terribly interested at all. There was much discussion before dispersal. The small yellow taxi involved had lost its front end and was facing the wrong direction but eventually the front was put into the back seat, and everyone went home, much to my relief.

 

Ironically our eleventh story sky perch over the crossroads provides a never-ending picture of Colombian society. It is an economic confluence of rich and poor and both a hub and intersection of the forces driving the society. The sound is that of the heartbeat of the economy. I have been absorbed by it for over three weeks, drawn to watching the comings and goings of the different  traders, entertainers, hustlers, and those I can only assume are down on their luck. It’s complicated. I have no easy answers and can only observe and record. The situation is not made easier by next door’s upscale Hotel tanning patio where young ladies provide me with unnecessary distractions. When the sun shines, they bask on the pink beds and are pampered by more young ladies in smart pink uniforms who are trained in the art of delicately rubbing small dabs of protective creams from a variety of different jars or tubes onto the ladies’ bodies to ensure correct tanning and skin health. Luckily, this distraction only usually takes place at weekends. The ladies in question cover their heads with fine pink toweling, not out of shame or the semi-invisibility of their undetectable clothing but to protect their faces from the very rays beneficial to the rest of their bodies.

 

This latest blog is a little late, for which I apologize. I have much to write about with visits to the oldest church and the city center, taking part in the weekly Medellin jog which runs past the house and the ups and downs of telephonic communications or the lack of them. The general philosophical question has been “what actually works?” We have both been the recipients of some determined rascal of a virus. I learned a new trick to try to stop sneezing which was to tickle the roof of my mouth with my tongue. So much to learn –  so little time! The Covid tests we brought with us appear to be producing the correct results (negative) which in turn seems to have a knock on positive psychological effect. This virus appears to have mutated so much that those infected now have their own personal variety. Mine was a slight temperature, big sneezing, coughing, achy teeth and ”I think I am dying”. Marney’s was quite different. Longer and drawn out, pallor, lethargy, discreet cough, no decent sneezing of any consequence, no temperature, no appetite, “I think I am dying syndrome”, and general yuckiness.

 

I am still amazed that we have made the transition to Colombia smoothly and could never have come this far without the support and help of our Colombian  guide and mentor, Juan. He has shepherded us through many challenges, introduced us to life in Medellin, taken us to the cathedral and the cemetery, been our teacher and translator,  found us a new place to live and has become our friend. He has done all this while running a couple of businesses and having had to take his two-year-old daughter to the hospital. If you ever venture to Columbia, he is your Sancho Panza, your aide-de-camp.

                           

                  Marney Here…

FYI: The race Alan is referring to is a famous motorcycle race in the Isle of Man.  I can’t even conjure up a picture of me driving anything in this traffic (except one where I don’t last long).

 

Before getting what I refer to as the CUV (The Colombia Unknown Virus), we managed to go shopping at the Premium Mall and while it was a bit daunting for Alan, I found a few fun things to break up the monotony of what I brought with me which was severely limited.  They have a couple of good shops which sell clothes made in Medellin.  My favorite so far is Tennis (which has nothing to do with the game.)  The clothes there are beautifully made and out of nice material like high quality gauze. The pink overtop I bought there was US $25 as were the white pants.  Very similar to the much more expensive Michael Starrs.  

I also managed to order a pair of jeans from Amazon (and they got here which I think is somewhat a miracle).  So, I’m ready for the heat of Cartajena in August (history of which we are really interested in) and the cooler climate of Uruguay in September (where we could renew our 90 day Colombia visas  if we can’t do that on line). It is not somewhere I ever thought about visiting but I changed my mind when I read more about it.  If you are interested, just google it – it is pretty fascinating as is Cartagena.

 

We are feeling better and the CUV seems to be waning so the next step is the move to our new condo in Las Palmas on July 11.  It is about 20 minutes from the city and should be much quieter in a lovely forest area. My phone is working again (thanks to Juan) and we got groceries delivered to hold us over so all is on the mend.  Vamanos!