El discurso de la lluvia / Translating Félix Molina Flórez

¨Los cuerpos son definiciones perdidas…¨

Los cuerpos son definiciones perdidas
en los diccionarios
Sin brazos
sin piernas
sin ojos
sin memoria
tratan de recobrar su rumbo

Los cuerpos que transitan este paraíso
han perdido su significado
como una tilde dibujada en el vacío

Somos esas piedras
que lavadas por la creciente
han perdido su piel

My Translation:

Our bodies are lost definitions
in dictionaries
No arms
no legs
no eyes
no memory
trying to recover their path

Our bodies that move through this paradise
have lost their meaning
like an accent drawn in the abyss

We are those stones
washed by the tide
that have lost their skin


This poem speaks to me in a way that transcends words. My own attachment to words and metaphor coalesce with this fascinating image drawn out by Félix. Everything that we are and the language we use over time loses its meaning. There is a sense of inevitable decay, a divorce from the tongues that gave words their meaning. I like how this concept of words losing their meaning, and our own bodies becoming words without meaning, formless anomalies — it is such a powerful visual. I hope I did it some justice.

Translating poetry is unique in that you have to take the music of the words into account, as well as the meaning and metaphor. Translating music takes this to another level. But I like the challenge. Translating a full book would be even harder because you have to live inside those pages and words well enough to capture what the author wanted to convey through a different linguistic lens.

I’ll be continuing with this project and translating the full book of poetry, The Discourse of the Rain, during this week. As always, I’m happy to hear any feedback, especially from my bilingual writers/poets.

Tu tranquilx: Finding Time for ME, Festival Vallenato, and Costeñol

In life, it can be very difficult to make time for yourself, and more so when you think you’re making time for yourself when you’re actually juggling your time with a million different activities or obligations.

Sound familiar to any of you out there?

We find ourselves running in circles, trying to fulfill so many duties and live up to so many expectations – our own expectations – that we forget to sit back and reflect on the nice little things happening in our everyday lives.

So here, I want to reflect (also because my therapist suggested it and its therapeutic and maybe, just maybe, this will help someone else) on all of the little ways life in Colombia has led me to explore new things and challenge my own mindset.

Last weekend was the celebration of the 51st annual Festival Vallenato. To Colombians from this region, Festival Vallenato is like freaking Coachella. The Coachella of Vallenato music. Of course, Vallenato music is a niche genre (shhh, don’t tell the average Colombian that (obviously I’ve met many exceptions that don’t like Vallenato, but yeah)). So while people here will boast that Festival Vallenato brings people from all over the world to the humble city-town of Valledupar, they mostly mean it attracts cachacos, or Colombias from further inland and south in Colombia, to come visit, drink in the street, enjoy a few parades, live music, and general chaos.

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The Piloneras is one of the biggest cultural attractions – people dance in traditional clothing to the rhythms of traditional music. Carlos Vives happened to be present in the middle of the parade this year, which meant people were even more obnoxious than usual.

Any New Orleanian reading this will probably think, “Hey! That sounds like Mardi Gras!” Well, you would be correct, because just like New Orleans in Mardi Gras, for anyone that doesn’t enjoy an overly-crowded, intoxicated, stuffy, obnoxious atmosphere brimming with tourists, it is absolutely exhausting and overrated. Don’t get me wrong, I enjoyed going to some Mardi Gras parades (like Bacchus and the more adorable Barkus and the more nerdy Chewbacchus -spin offs for the whole family to enjoy- that’s why I love New Orleans, right there), but overall the city just became a lot…heavier, and I’ve never had much love for tourists. For one thing, everything revolves around making a buck and taking advantage of those that don’t know that things are actually usually way cheaper. It happens here, it happens there, it happens everywhere.

That’s how the two cities are connected. They are both popular for clear reasons: party, music, and atmosphere. However, those same things make the cities slow and stagnant. Which is where I’ve been thinking I feel stuck in a pattern of always picking the same sorts of things, even if I don’t like them and they aren’t necessarily good for me.

Beyond the comparisons between Festival Vallenato and Mardi Gras, the folclor of both lends some time for teachers to rest because the world of these small places revolves around niche annual celebrations. So I had Thursday through Wednesday off. Not bad. However, did I get anything done?

No.

I got drunk, and I got sick. I missed work, and I didn’t go to the gym. Basically, I had a down week. But I’m hoping to use this apparent down week to put together renewed energy to return to old projects.

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Graphic description of how “productively” I spent my relaxing weekend off. Also pictured: Churro.

It’s difficult to start over in the middle of the year, but in reality I’m not starting over because I got a strong start. The school year is almost over, and there’s a lot to do and even more to look forward to. It’s just moving on to a new chapter, really.

In the past few months, and especially during Festival, I’ve become much closer with my Colombian friends, specifically of the costeño variety. Remember that costeños don’t necessarily live in the coast but are referred to by this term based on their location in coastal departments (states connected to the coast in some way), accent/dialect (they share a common language that is deeply embedded in their culture), and folclor, or a general set of musical, dance, and folkloric traditions that the likes of Festival Vallenato and Carnaval embody. I want to share with you guys a small list of vocabulary I’ve picked up by spending more time integrating myself here and practically becoming* costeña:

guandolo/wandolo: an alcoholic beverage, resembling a moonshine that tastes like a sweet beer, distilled from panela, distributed low-key in Valledupar. I have tried it, and all I can say is: I couldn’t feel my face. My ear felt like it was on fire. I felt woozy and like general crap. I drank it too fast. Apparently I was drunk. Without the euphoria. Hopefully it’s better next time (whenever that will be).

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It may not look delicious, but panela does wonders for congestion and a sore throat. Just heat it up in boiling water, add lemon and honey, and voila!
Churro: a strong, tequila-like alcoholic beverage also distilled from panela – not to be confused with the delicious cinnamon treats you can buy from local street vendors. This was great when michelado with lemon, orange, and pepper (weird, I know, but when in Valledupar…), but I swear the hours of high did not prepare me for a whole day of feeling like absolute shit. This brings out the worst in people. However, will try again. It’s hella good but look out for the…
guayabo: term used in Colombia for hangover. Every country has its own term: crudo en Mexico, goma in Nica/Costa Rica/Guate, etc., resaca in most other places. But in Colombia, you can be enguayaba@. And also it feels like shit.
parche: a group of amigos that do amigo things, like drink wandolo in the plaza or go on trips to La Mina or a casa campo. The verb parchar means to do these sorts of things, or just chill/hangout and gossip with friends.
‘So va (eso va): the adorable costeñol way of saying I’m down, that’s on, hell yeah. Also, most words and syllables are shortened here in the coast.
marica/mk: used to express strong or serious feelings which should punctuate all your sentences when talking to someone in confidence (i.e. a good member of your parche), shortened to mk in text, not to be confused with the homophobic insult.
el vacile (se pega): catchphrase of Monofonico (a popular and spectacular local champeta band), the term vacile has several meanings, including a non-serious, uncommitted relationship within which the goal is having fun to anything that is considered a good time, entertaining, or fun; can be applied to music (i.e. a live show), a group of people with a good vibe, an entertaining person or video, etc. i.e. Eso es cule vacile, marica. (That’s chill as hell/a hella good time/fucking amusing, dude – wow this is really hard to translate into American slang because Americans also have way too many phrases and slang depending on the region you’re from, plus it’s constantly changing and evolving. And I’ve been out of the country for most of the time for almost 2 years now, so forgive me if the phrase I use is actually super outdated and lame).
Cule: literally culo de, or an assload of something. A lot. So if someone wants to understate how much they like you, they might say, tu me gustas cule poco.
barro: used to react to something shitty. Oh, your girlfriend cheated on you? Barro, cachon.
cachon: a guy that’s been cheated on. I don’t know why in Latin America they add insult to injury by having terms for people that have been cheated on, usually used to insult or mock them, but here you are. It comes from the phrase pegar cacho which is the Colombian way of saying to stick horns on someone, which was an old English phrase as well (used by Shakespeare, even!) for cuckolding. The more you know! I suppose another translation would be a cuckold or a cuck…without the erotic/fetishy connotation that is. The female alternative is, of course, cachona.
peye: something that is just really shitty or lame. Cule cosa peye – that’s some lame ass shit.
jopo: ass or butt, usually a fat one, but can also be referred to something that’s lame and sucks. Cule evento jopo. “Fucking lame/shitty event.” Cule vaina jopo = any random thing that is really, seriously ass in nature.
arrecho: in la Costa de Colombia, not in Venezuela or many other places, this means horny. Anywhere else it means pissed off. Be careful with this one.
Nojoda: used to punctuate a sentence to express frustration or shock. Deja la flojera, nojoda! “Stop being so fucking lazy!” Nojoda, enserio, mk? “Fuck, seriously, dude? Are you fucking kidding me?” I could list a million examples more, this one is super common. And not only Colombian – I first learned no me joda/no me jodas in Costa Rica back in 2011. True story.

There’s waaaaay more where that comes from, but I think I’ll save that along with a more comprehensive list of examples and English-language equivalents for another post. To summarize, it’s been cool to immerse myself so thoroughly in another culture and dialect. Soon I’ll be talking about my time in Bogota and Medellin and sharing the different ways in which people there speak and act. Language, as I have always believed, is so deeply entwined in culture. It exists to compliment culture and also to express its invisible beliefs and values. So, rest assured: there’s more to come on this subject.

Please feel free to mention any of your favorite costeñol expressions or terms I may have missed below! Costeño Spanish is fast becoming one of my favorites, and it is in no small part due to the expressive, dynamic culture it is a part of.

So, while Festival Vallenato was full of peyes and being sick is even more peye (cule vaina peye, mk, at that), I’m happy with everything I’ve been able to take in while living in Valledupar. I’ve been staying productive with English classes and transcription writing. I’m trying to remain grounded and centered on both what I want and what I need for this moment. Yes, even in a city as small and slow as Valledupar, good times are all around to be had. To appreciate other places, we must also learn to appreciate the place we are at.

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Parchando con las mejores ❤ Festival Vallenato 2018

*Spoiler: I will never actually be costeña; relax people, it’s just a “decir