culture shock – Nómada [con] Rumbo

Seoul, South Korea: 시…happens

My Asia trip began on June 1st when I landed in Incheon International Airport. My friend and I planned to stay 22 days in South Korea, a country neither of us had been to before- and honestly, neither of us did much planning in advance. I was completely open to anything, to exploring as we went. She had a wish list of things she had been wanting to do, and I was happy to be along for the ride.

Little did we know, in the span of the first week, so many life lessons would be learned leaving us with this feeling of: “No way we’ve only been here for a week!” and “Why didn’t we look into this ahead of time??” The overwhelm of planning where to stay and what to see day by day would also take its toll. But looking back, I feel like everything happened the way it should (yes, even the shitty stuff).

A few highlights to show how utterly manic this trip was:

Tried on Hanbok and made a friend from Vietnam on our 2nd full day
Went out for the first time on our 4th day, partied in Itaewon
2 doritos (30 minutes in our 2nd club) later: my phone disappeared
Dealt with heartless bouncers and Korean law enforcement
Got refused service by taxi drivers for not being able to communicate in Korean (even when we were using a translator, they had no patience with us)
Took a tour to the DMZ zone, went down a tunnel into North Korea, and watched people moving around nearest NK city
Experienced the most intense Thai massage ever (not great if you have blisters on your feet, I’ll tell you what)
Took a highspeed train to Busan and Korea’s ancient cultural capital, Gyeongju
Flew to Jeju island, the land of tangerines – where I spent the whole time at the hotel 😦
Went to a clinic for aesthetic and nonaesthetic reasons
Had a summer romance snatched directly from a Kdrama
And the list goes on…

I think you can guess why it feels like I lived a whole life there. The high highs and the low lows, the culture shock you don’t usually feel when you’re a tourist in a country for less than a month (and much less during the first week of your trip).

But thanks to these experiences, I have a lot of stories to tell and lots of advice to give. Yay!

My student put together this cute little timeline of topics mentioned in this post to help keep track of all of the madness – consider it a preview and visual aid 🙂

In this post, I’m going to focus on the shit that happened during my first week in Korea and how I could have avoided it. I’ll have more recommendations and recap facts in another post.

Day 4: The Premature Death of the Honeymoon phase.

I started the day in the best mood, ready to comerme el mundo, do it all. I wore the outfit I had bought at one of the many little clothing stores in Insa-dong the day before, feeling very Korean and cute. I love Asian fashion, the tendency to layer, even in summer.

Ah, sweet summer child… little did I know that this day would end with tears and frustration. This was the breaking point that forced me to see all of the negative in my surroundings all too soon.

I left a piece of me in Seoul — quite literally — and an expensive piece at that.

The only pictures and videos I have of this day were what I uploaded to my IG stories 🥲. A full day, gone — but boy was it a full day.

The few pictures I did take are uploaded and described on my instagram.

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Gwangjang Market

We started the day at Gwangjang Market – went to grab lunch, stayed for the shopping.

I felt right at home. The food stalls and tables set up, as well as the variety of shops and booths, reminded me of mercados públicos in any Latin American country. The prices were unbeatable, and we were able to eat real authentic dishes like tteokbokki (too spicy for me 🥲), kimchi, bibimbap, kimbap (my favorite, and not at all to be confused with sushi) and more. Plus, I tried Korean Sprite, Chilsung Cider — loved it! Comparing it to Sprite does not do it justice – the flavor is totally different.

We wandered inside afterward, bought souvenirs, and got a caricature portrait drawn. When we passed the new KAHI location in Gwangjang Market, we were drawn in by the offer of a free color test and product demo. This service is pretty popular in Korea, so I’m glad I got to experience it.

And it was free.99!

Sure, they were selling their products the entire time, but in the gentlest way possible. The girl that did mine was so sweet, and while she didn’t know much English, she used ChatGPT to translate and explain everything. She took off the base of my makeup and primed it using their skincare products before putting on their foundation and showing me which color palate suits me best.

I can’t quite recall what my results were, but I think it was deep warm colors (orange is popping in my head), not exactly what I would pick for myself. I felt skeptical about their methods, but it was still fun.

I ended up buying three products which have become totally essential to my daily skincare routine: the CAXA UP face-lifting device (always wanted one of those and with the discount the price was super attractive), an ampoule serum, and a sunscreen stick — my fave.

After all that shopping, we were ready to take the long trip to the other side of the Han River.

All downhill from there?

The rest of the day was a bit chaotic. I couldn’t help noticing that I was trying to control the outcome of our adventures. Additionally, in some way, my phone was contributing to my stress. I was navigating, scoping out our destinations and the surrounding attractions, looking up places to see if they were open, trying to live our trip to the fullest – all the while searching like crazy for ATMs.

In many aspects, Korea felt more insular than I expected. Global ATMs are not available in every convenience store, specific apps are needed to navigate without getting lost, and even the outlets need an adapter to charge – and lucky me, I forgot my powerbank and my adapter. Before leaving the area, we went around in circles looking for someone that could help me find a global ATM.

We wasted time only to go down to the metro station and realize that some metro kiosks let you refill your T-money card with a credit card. Cash is mostly an essential though, and I didn’t even realize at this point that my debit card runs in the Discover/Diners Plus network which is not common in most countries. Whoops.

My adorable Zoa Tmoney card. Shout-out to GD ❤

Once I reloaded the card, I was good to go. We got to Seongsu 50 minutes+ later by bus and discovered that our destination was out of the question. We needed to book in advance to get into Haus Nowhere – a strange brutalist concept space mixing contemporary art and retail(?) with a strong sci-fi vibe. Plus, there was some sort of private event going on that day. Another reminder: always check two things before committing to a long commute – if the place is open and if entry is limited.

We turned around and headed to Gangnam to check out the Starfield Library without skipping a beat. While lovely, after all of the walking and bus/train hopping we did, being surrounded by books I couldn’t read that basically seemed like decoration was a bit underwhelming. Yes, there were people studying there, and the concept is striking, but it seemed like we were there just to take pictures and leave. It could be that I felt that way because we had crossed the entirety of the COEX mall, a huge, sprawling cluster of buildings with various floors and confusing signage, to find it. Either way, I was beat.

Finally, we said fuck it. We needed a drink.

We got caught in the rain as we left the mall and had to run to a convenience store to buy umbrellas — UV umbrellas, not rain umbrellas. The cashier laughed at us, but honestly, come on. To me it worked just as well, it’s just dual purposed. You can fight me in the comments. 😉

Apparently the one I bought wasn’t made to be water repellent – but you coulda fooled me!

Next stop: Itaewon. We were ready to partayyyy.

Itaewon: the end and the beginning

Itaewon is an absolute shit show after dark. As is expected in a party district full to the rim with young people and tourists covering the sketchy types that take advantage of those spaces…

We went to two clubs: Dawn and the Mansion.

At Dawn, we brought the party, asking the DJ to put on reggaeton to liven things up because honestly, it was DEAD in there. All of the boring pop was undanceable – and not even K-pop was being played. 🙄 Before we left, we had filled the place up with our perreo in the big front window, attracting attention – so much so that they asked us to come back the next day and gave us free drinks.

We were on cloud 9, but it was getting late and we wanted to catch the last train at 12, so we headed out before getting sucked into the Mansion…

We were only there for about 30 minutes. We had our free drink and didn’t even leave our table. But as I would see in the CCTV footage later, I finally took off my phone off my wrist to do some twerking. As we picked up our things to go, I realized my phone was not with my stuff.

How?

I asked the bartender if a phone was turned in. Nothing. He and other staff struck arms across their chests. We dubbed it the “AHHH-NEEE” X of doom (the common sign for “no” in East Asia). I was in total shock. Somebody had managed to scoop it up somehow, right under my nose and out of view of the cameras.

And just like that, the party was over.

Losing my phone in Korea

Thank God for my friend who was with me. If it hadn’t been for her support, the rest of the trip would have been impossible. I couldn’t move my money around and had no way of navigating. Was this the detox I needed? Maybe, but the damage was more than I had expected. Without her, I don’t know what I would’ve done.

My heart was racing. I was in total shock. After asking the staff inside the bar, my first thought was to ask the bouncer what I should do if someone had taken my phone, how the bar handled a missing phone or potential theft on their premises. I struggled to form sentences and leaned on my friend for support, asking if he knew what I should do or had seen anything.

His reaction took me out.

He immediately became defensive. It was not his problem. My friend knows some Korean and picked up on him insulting us, telling us to fuck off basically. I stressed that I just wanted to know what the procedure was and let him know in case he saw something, but in my mental state, I only began to cry harder as he told us to get lost. I stepped away, feeling angry at how helpless I was. As soon as I started walking, the bouncers at neighboring clubs came up to me. I figured they could see face wet with tears, my bloodshot eyes, surely they might be concerned about me.

Nope. They were trying to hand me drink vouchers and persistently attempting to lure us into their clubs. Their eyes registered my pain. Their actions ignored it. I firmly asked one of them where the nearest police station was since that was originally what I hoped the Mansion bouncer might tell me. They pointed to the end of the block. There it was, just across the street.

This isn’t a place where you see Seoul’s kindest face. With so many drunk foreigners acting up every night, I could see the weary faces and negative biases. Still, nothing had prepared me for the treatment I received. I entered the police precinct, a bit calmer, but still desperate for support.

The police were helpful enough. I could sense that this incident was probably a drop in the ocean for them, but they still dutifully gathered all the information I could provide. I reported the theft and tried to locate my phone, to no avail because without a safe device, I couldn’t get past the MFA.

Our only complaint was the lack of genuine empathy. I was practically despondent and had no way to call a cab or direct us back to our apartment. They noticed we had not left and basically told us we should leave, that they would be in touch. I tried to ask for help calling a cab. I was stressed knowing we wouldn’t be able to communicate easily with the taxi drivers… They said they couldn’t. Just…couldn’t. So, we went on the corner and waved our arms until we flagged them down and got turned down repeatedly. 🫩

Korea is not for beginners.

I thought I had done enough research. I knew about Naver and T-money. I knew I would need cash. But I still wasn’t prepared for how limiting my bank card’s network is there, how tricky dealing with taxi drivers can be, or just how dependent I would be on having the right apps.

Google Maps does not work, so you better download Naver. Naver is slow sometimes, especially when everyone in Seoul is probably using it at once. Uber is limited, so Kakao T needs to be set up with your Korean number stat. But then they may still cancel or take you to the wrong destination because the gps and locations are not so precise.

You can hail a cab, but most will not bother with a translator app, so expect to be put out if you don’t have the location ready and zoomed in — in Korean — on the map for them to see immediately. Taxi drivers aren’t known for their patience, but this was still the worst experience I ever had communicating with them, and I’ve dealt with taxi drivers in Paris (yikes).

I know taxi drivers in general are a tough demographic, but the amount that we were yelled at was unbelievable. They weren’t willing to listen to or read from the translator app when we tried to communicate with them. In our three weeks there, I can recall only three drivers who were actually friendly, and two of them weren’t in Seoul.

You’re also more likely to be ignored on the street if you have big luggage like we did. By week 2, both of us had 2 full rolling suitcases and 2 carry-ons, plus our backpacks and purses. Moving to a new accommodation was a nightmare. By our last week back in Seoul we made sure to stay in one place.

Another tip: make sure you bring an adapter for outlets in Korea. I had no idea those were different despite all my research.

We live and learn. But don’t learn the hard way. Don’t be like us.

The Comparison I couldn’t help but keep making (sorry): Japan vs. Korea

I struggled not to compare Korea to the other Asian countries I’d been to. Maybe that’s not fair, but it did bring me to some interesting conclusions. At the time, I only had Japan to compare it to. Now, I would say it was trickier to navigate than Thailand also.

In terms of culture, I knew that Korea is a highly competitive society, more individualistic (in SOME ways — not in all, like fashion, for example) than Japan. But I didn’t know just how different the hospitality standards were.

My advice is not to expect it to be like Japan – in every sense. It is its own country shaped by a unique history and identity.

The negative side of the inevitable comparison is the disparity between expectation and reality. My experiences in Japan have been colored by the fact that there has always seemed to be someone around willing to help a foreigner. Regardless of language barrier.

Although my Korean was too nonexistent to help much (at least I can get by in Japanese), when I tried, people were not terribly receptive. Much less fake “impressed.” No sugar coating here. I felt like I was inconveniencing people who I asked for help. When I did, the results were not so great.

Perhaps I was a bit spoiled. Japan seems to be more equipped to help tourists (even in Tokyo), while in Seoul, despite English being more widely spoken, general helpfulness and friendliness were not common from strangers. Most people are just trying to get by in their own chaotic worlds, and I can empathize with that. It’s just something to keep in mind.

Travel on Hard Mode

So, for 2 weeks, I lived like a tourist in the 90’s, before smartphones and information at our fingertips. What were the positives? I started writing – in a notebook, the old-fashioned way. On the train, while everyone was staring at their screens and doomscrolling, I was jotting down messy (practically illegible) notes about what I had done that day.

My humblest moment >.< most of my phrases were wrong, but I was trying!

If I needed directions, I would ask someone or look it up on my computer and write them down. If I needed to remember common or specific words in Korean, or I learned or heard a new word, I would add it to a list in my notebook. On the metro the last week, I was reading the train lines and station names. Did I get lost? Sure. Did I butcher the Korean language? Often.

But I found that I was able to survive without my phone. Hell, people had survived without them for ages before the 2000’s. The experience made me realize just how dependent we are on technology for everything.

I joked saying I was traveling on hard mode, but I made the choice to do so with the sincere hope that the Korean police would be able to track down my phone. I got called into the station to review the cctv footage, I went back to Itaewon and asked if any phones had been turned in, and I practically prayed a novena – but it was no good. My Samsung S23 was gone for good.

I got a new phone — an A17 budget phone from the Samsung store in Seoul, tax-free — the last full day of my stay in Korea. It was a downgrade, but… the price was right, all things considered.

The picture quality is not the same. I couldn’t recover notes I had taken and pictures from the entire last day when I had my phone. This drove home another important point: BACKUP your phones, especially when traveling.

Seoul, My Soul

So… did Seoul steal my soul?

Well, it definitely stole my phone… as well as quite a bit of my patience. But it also taught me some valuable lessons. Oh, why must I always be forced to learn the hard lessons in life? I guess so you, dear reader, don’t have to!

Would I go back? Somehow, the answer is yes. Even after everything went wrong, I still look back at Korea and think: what an experience.

And there’s more where that came from. Stay tuned for my breakdown of where we stayed, what other parts of Korea we visited, and more lessons learned the hard way!

10 Things I wish I would’ve known about living in Colombia

Before I moved to Colombia, as you can imagine, I was completely nervous. Excited, yes. Prepared? I wasn’t sure. The uncertainties were all around me.

So, like most people in the age of technology, I took to the internet. I looked for blogs/vlogs, lists, articles, College Humor pieces – anything that could give me an idea of what it would be like living and working in Colombia.

Unfortunately, I came up mostly empty. For all that travel blogs and teach-abroad blogs are quite popular these days, I couldn’t find many vlogs or posts with information I found pertinent (and personal). It was all mostly general or stereotypical – salsa dancing, tourist attractions, and the general basics for travel and work – how much you could expect to make, where you could expect to work, etc. But as far as the different elements of culture shock, language, daily life, traveling on a budget, making friends and forming relationships – well, the internet seemed silent.

Maybe I’m just bad at search engines. Either way, I feel there is a need. So I would like to share my top 10 things I wish I would’ve known before moving to Colombia.

(I should preface this by saying this information mostly applies to the Colombian coastal region, and the difference between the interior of the country and the coast definitely makes the list of things I wish I would’ve known about Colombia before living here.)

Image result for mapa de las regiones culturales de colombia — Just keep this in mind – there’s practically a different dialect for every one of these regions.

Bogota is not Colombia. And the differences between regions can be much more dramatic than one would expect (culturally, dialectually, etc.). I knew this because I had visited both beforehand, but I didn’t realize just how big the rivalry between different regions in Colombia is. You won’t be just adapting to a new culture based on the country, but also based on the region you choose to live in as well.
Colombia is not as dangerous as it once was. You are not likely to get kidnapped by random taxi drivers anytime you go out. You won’t see violence in the streets. However, crime caused by the incredible degree of inequality and poverty is real. Because of this, you will probably be robbed or mugged at least once – oh, by the way, don’t go out with your cellphone at night, or if you do, don’t own a fancy, expensive smartphone. You have been warned.
People are not always to be taken at face value. Things are not always what they seem on the surface, and if money is involved, one should err on the side of caution. It is very likely if you are working in anything that requires charging or loaning money that you will have to hassle that person in order to get it, because Colombians either never have money because of how awful the economy is or simply don’t want to pay when they do have money.
Relationships and gender roles are truly influenced by machismo. But it’s not always as obvious as you think. Lies, deceit, and general toxicity all tend to play a role, and to many people here, this looks normal due to the culture.
The cost of living and exploring is inexpensive. Even though you can’t expect to make a lot of money by US dollars standards, you can still manage to save and live your best life. Travel by bus and plane to different parts of Colombia is inexpensive, but work can be extremely draining (because schools here are not well-organized, and the hierarchy can be extremely stressful – more on this in a different post). It’s a real game of give and take with your schedule to keep things in balance.
Your personality will change if and only if you are truly immersed in the culture. You wanna get good at dancing to Latin music? You have to let yourself be taught and be spontaneous. Same with your degree of fluency in Spanish. Most people here don’t speak English and are very shy to do so (aside from the annoying cat-callers that only know one phrase – like “I love you” and “hello”), so if you are interested in learning Spanish, this is a great place to do it. However, you should come willing to make an effort and learn from the people around you.
Most people do not know that much about the US. So questions get repetitive. It’s kind of like how when I’m in the states, questions revolve around 30 year old issues like Pablo Escobar and drug cartels…yeah, ignorance is the same no matter where you are, but at least the questions are mostly about Trump, somebody who is actually alive and relevant.
Colombia really does not have seasons. I honestly didn’t realize that. So if you pick a hot place to live, expect that to be a constant. If you pick a colder, rainy place (like Bogota), that will also be a constant, with some flux depending on the months and dry or rainy seasons. Weather is not necessarily a constant, but the general temperature and variety of weather definitely is.
In a small city like Valledupar, transportation is so easy and cheap. Of course, the same can’t be said for sprawling cities with a shitty Transmilenio bus system in place of a metro, but trust me, if you live in small town Colombia, moto-taxis for $2 mil a ride will become your best friend. Cheap street food like arepas, empanadas, deditos de queso, and papas rellenas will become your best friend, too. I should probably just do a whole post on food, let me bookmark that for later…
People will embrace you. Sure you have to root through the people that want to use you for the perceived money or influence that gringos have, but people here are truly so warm and willing to share with others, so long as they sense that you are a genuine person as well and you are willing to open up. That has to be one of my favorite things about the culture.

Now that I’ve written those 10, several more things occur to me. But I’ll leave that for another post. Basically, living in (coastal) Colombia is a spontaneous experience, so you need to be open-minded and aware of your surroundings. Appearances often are not to be trusted, but life is looser and more flexible – which means if you crave and thrive on structure, la Costa probably isn’t the place for you.

However, that being said, I think this country offers something for everyone. Medellin, Cali, Bogota, Bucaramanga – all of these great cities are different from cities in the coast. In Colombia, one size definitely does not fit all.

I hope this is helpful to anyone considering living, working, or at least traveling in Colombia. As with life abroad in any country, a willingness to adapt to your environment is always important and necessary. There will always be things you don’t like – be it the slowness, the poor attitude toward customers, the backwards gender norms, the superficiality, in the cases I’ve seen that were less than pleasant – but you can learn and grow from these differences and observations as well. All of that makes the experience that much more rewarding and totally worth it.

If you’ve lived in or are living in Colombia, do leave a comment below sharing what you discovered but didn’t realize before living in Colombia (along with which part of Colombia you lived/are living in!).

Dating and /Not/ Dating in Colombia

In honor of Valentine’s Day (and its wonderfully appropriate alternative: Galentine’s day, brought to us by the comedic genius of Parks & Rec), I’d like to recap some of my horrifyingly hilarious experiences I’ve had in the Colombian dating arena.

Many times, I was thrust into this game unwitting or unwillingly. You’ll soon see how that is possible by the powers of machismo, though I assure you, it should come as no surprise.

In Colombia, I think it’s fair for me to say that dating culture, in general, is quite toxic. This is because of some harmful stereotypes-made-real and culturally-accepted norms, ranging from no-means-yes and yes-means-anything-goes and lying (both benevolently and not) in order to maintain a certain facade within the relationship (which does almost inevitably lead to straight up infidelity).

I know it’s been said, but this is, of course, anecdotal. There may be no studies relaying just why it is or the frequency at which these sorts of things happen. However, that doesn’t diminish the fact that they do happen, and mostly it’s because of the dominant machista culture. I’ll go in to what machismo is via examples throughout the post.

Most recently, I was invited to go swimming with a guy I barely knew. I met him while hanging out with a friend and her friends (and their friends) the night before. Bear in mind: I had expected us to go to the pool in a group, which seems safe, am I right? But his intentions weren’t completely unclear either. That morning, he had sent me several texts that read very…flirtatious. But that’s normal here. What Colombian doesn’t call most women “mi vida,” “bebe,” “mi amor,” “princesa,” etc.? You would be surprised. However, the excessive amounts of winking and suggestive-face emojis clearly gave him away.

Now, I really wanted to go swimming. Just keep that in mind. So I said yes, why not? I mean, worst case scenario, he’s just very awkward, right? I have to shun a few untoward remarks, maybe. No big deal.

Wrong. You see, when men like you here, they don’t care if you are as stiff as a corpse. They will touch YOU. Now doesn’t that just have the word RAPE spelled all over it in big crimson letters. Sometimes I forget this, and the shock is real.

As soon as I got in the cab when he pulled up at my house, he put his arm around me. Strike one. He started to caress my shoulder in this utterly cringe-inducing way as he spoke at length about things he assumed I knew nothing about and made general smalltalk. I tried to pretend not to notice, attempting to keep things light and friendly. He kept getting closer and closer to me. I could feel my skin crawling, that sensation you get when there are tons of invisible ants all over you.

By the time we got to the pool, he was trying to hold my hand, not letting me more than a few inches from him. We would talk and laugh or carry on (conversation in all its forms is my ultimate defense mechanism when I am really uncomfortable), and then he leaned in and without any sort of preamble (other than some sort of throw-away “sultry” – in his mind – phrasing) tried kissing me, which landed on my chin. This happened several times. When it happened, I went rigid. I told him I barely knew him, the physical contact is too intense, it’s making me uncomfortable – I mean how much clearer could I be?

He pretended to care, said it was no problem, insisted on asking if I was comfortable and having a good time. But as soon as I dropped my guard, the same awkward dance would begin again.

He would look for pretexts to touch me. In the pool, he tried to lift me up and carry me around. On the balcony looking over the city’s valley and surrounding mountain peaks, while I was trying to admire the view, he cornered me and blocked my line of vision. He recited poetry to me, sang at me, basically wrapped his legs around me at one point.

Need I go on? It was absolutely obnoxious. Then he had the nerve, after I told him more than once that none of that was cool, to ask me if I would be interested in going out with him some more. To which a cocked my head to the side and coyly responded, “Wait, what? Since when was this a date? I’m just barely getting to know you. And no, I would not be and am not interested in going out with anyone at the moment. No offense.”

Why do I feel the need to tack on the disclaimers? “No offense.” I suppose it’s hard to reject men flatly when you’re in a situation in which you are forced to be around them alone. It’s not that I felt physically threatened by him, but it’s just uncomfortable. My instincts to be polite often get me in trouble, and more so in situations like this. I imagine on some level it’s because women are trained to be polite above all else. Which in no way backfires, of course…

This phenomena of touching the other person whether they express that they want it or not and assuming that it is okay to press boundaries is all too common.

Even with my ex, there were times I did not want to be intimate, and to be frank, he would ignore just how rigid and indifferent my body language was, or that my words expressed that I felt. Somehow, all of this behavior gets written off as normal here. Which has led me to having to fight to express myself and then feel ignored or written off when I say, hey, stop, that’s not what I’m into.

If you are going to date a guy here, as with any cultural context, you must recognize that everyone is different. No two people are alike. This might maintain you with at least a little bit of hope and optimism. However, there are some broad norms that become patterns for some underlying reason. Most of what I’m describing here is do to machismo.

To give you a textbook definition, machismo is a strong or exaggerated sense of manliness; an assumptive attitude that virility, courage, strength, and entitlement to dominate are attributes or concomitants of masculinity. Are you seeing the assumptive patterns here?

Another example of how toxic dating culture can be here is the constant feeding of the male ego. I’ve now had several encounters with men who literally do not shut up about themselves. They will start asking you questions – only to cut you off before you’ve even completed a sentence.

It starts with them asking a million questions in order to seem like they are actually interested in you. Like, “So, tell me about yourself. What do you like? Where are you from? What’s your passion in life?”

Your mind begins to work over the slew of questions. You begin, “Well, I’m not sure where to begin. I’m really passionate about–”

“Oh, so did I tell you I just started working at this company blahblahblah.”

It really is that bad. And they expect you to just go along with it. And god forbid you interrupt them, because I have seen more than one guy get indignant or simply ignore everything I have said because, hold on, he didn’t finish.

Entitlement. When he cares, it matters. When you are interested, it’s up to him. And generally speaking, whenever a guy gets hit by the urge to mess around here, he expects his demands to be met. As illustrated with my ex as well as the guy I barely met, women are expected to just bend over and take it. Your refusal or disapproval is easily ignored. But don’t expect him to be around when you need or want something.

Which leads me to the next point: vanity. On one hand, it can be nice to date someone that cares about his appearance and actually wants to look good for you. But the dark side of that is the problematic behavior that concern can generate. It manifests itself in more than just an obsession for one’s physical appearance, but general appraisal of everything related to oneself. In a word: ego. I have seen how the image of a person can be set before the person themself. Sometimes it manifests itself in insisting that you only post pictures in which they look perfect. Other times, its demanding that you change your image in order to suit their whims. In all cases, it is exhausting and superficial.

Another common occurrence is texting in order to “manage” you and maintain your interest. “Que haces” is the most common and literally repetitive question. Sometimes I’ve been asked what I am doing with no more than a few minutes in between, as if there were literally nothing else to say or talk about. There is a sense of micromanaging as a means of control here. If you don’t respond, you obviously are devoting your time to someone else or something that *gasp* may be more important than your pretendiente!

Then there is planning. This spontaneously can pop up on the whim of your lover, and the proposal may be more of a pointed “we are going to do…” or “I want to do…” and less of a “hey, I was wondering if you would like to…”

As an American, I was used to the latter, more courteous manner of suggesting activities. Most Americans aren’t that forward when they are just getting to know each other, at least, not the crowd I tend to run with. I have never experimented with Tinder, but I did have my fair share of okcupid dates, and aside from a few cocky bastards, very rarely was a date demanded rather than suggested, without some caveat to make sure the other person feels comfortable even considering it a date. We Americans, in my experience, are less determined to put a label on our relationships too early in the game. In my opinion, it avoids conflict but can lead to confusion once someone inevitably catches feels and wants to know where they stand.

Speaking of being American, thanks to being the minority in the small coastal city I live in, I have been blessed with the experience of being exotified. If I was insensitive or indifferent at some point to the struggle of women of other ethnicities in the states, I can safely say that I do understand how it must feel to be reduced to a label, a stereotype, and fetishized for it – and it’s awful. It sucks. It really makes you hate everything associated with that label. The comments are cringe-worthy. The “be my sexy English teacher” and “let me teach you how to dance” and “all gringas are easy” are a broken record that drives you madder and madder everytime it enters conversation – and believe me, if you meet a guy here and you are American, it will. I don’t think I will ever date anyone again that clearly had some romanticized or crude American-Pie-fueled image of me again.

But going back to Colombian culture, dating is a clearly established game. However, the rules are generally “don’t ask, don’t tell” when it comes to the sort of transparency that tells you if other people are in the picture or not. Exclusivity, I have realized, is not as much as a given as the fact that if you accept an invitation to go on a date, in the guy’s mind you are probably “dating” unless he says otherwise. Even if he’s also seeing several girls on the side. Or one “officially.”

I have still yet to meet a man here that will straight up tell me if he has a girlfriend when he expresses interest in me. Even if I meet him with another girl that is clearly somehow sentimentally or physically involved with him, there is often a lie, either implicit or explicit: no, it’s nothing serious, I’m into you.

I’m starting to develop a sixth sense for this shadiness. Now I won’t take a guy as seriously and will most likely just walk away if he even suggests having something serious too quickly, assuming that he has a girlfriend. This is because I have been led on or straight up duped into thinking a guy was single only to be told by others or find out clandestinely that there was another woman in the picture the whole time. For me, as someone that as a rule would never go for a guy that is committed to someone else, that is absolutely devastating.

Returning to the theme of machismo, I’ve realized that there is an implicit cultural acceptance for infidelity if the man is doing the cheating. It shows his “swagger”, his prowess, his…insecurity. I think the root is insecurity and the lack of genuine relationships. Because these same people that tend to be unfaithful and dishonest about it also assume and go nuts over the idea that their partner could do the same to them.

Once, I realized a guy was acting rather cold with me after showing so much interest every time we saw each other. I thought maybe I was overthinking it or projecting, but it came back to me that he actually lived with someone and was in a committed relationship. This never came up in any of our conversations. The only tip was the cold manner in which he texted me and the spontaneous attention whenever we would see each other.

There’s a certain feedback loop of men doing what they want because they want it and not considering the consequences. I think this is a direct symptom of machismo, which is all about the ability of men to do just that in order to assert their manliness. However, if a woman does the same, I need not even go into the litany of insults that exist in Spanish to describe her.

Infidelity is a man’s game here. And a game it is. These days, I don’t date, and if I do in the future, it will be with utmost detachment and caution.

Obviously, I am just a cynic that has seen some of the worst in dating in Colombia. Perhaps I’ll write a post in which I contradict all of this because some beautiful person comes and sweeps me off my feet. I highly doubt it though, as a lot of this is less to do with my personal experience and more to do with the broad echoes of the dull roar of the antiquated conquista attitude that remains embedded in dating culture here today.

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On that note, I wish you all a Happy Valentine’s (or Galentine’s) day! Love yourselves first – then and only then can you appreciate and recognize the genuine love of others.