viernes, 13 de noviembre de 2009
miércoles, 11 de noviembre de 2009
FlAT AMATEUR BULLFIGHTS IN COLOMBIA, ALCOHOL AND BLOOD FLOW FREELY
SINCELEJO, Colombia — The radio reporters huddled in a corner of the Red Cross tent on Sunday, waiting for the wounded to arrive on stretchers. They wanted details of the injuries. They were not disappointed.
A stream of men arrived with wounds out of a Hieronymus Bosch painting: intestines peeking out of a belly, bone protruding from a fractured shin, blood spurting from a gash in the buttocks.
These were not victims of the civil war that has afflicted this country for four decades. They were participants in the corraleja, a bullfighting ritual in northern Colombia pitting hundreds of amateur matadors, many in advanced stages of inebriation, against a 900-pound bull.
“This year was calm, no deaths yet,” said Felipe Bertel Muñoz, who broadcast the names, ages and injuries of the wounded to the listeners of RCN Radio. “Some say it is good luck for at least one person to die, but our paramedics are too talented to let that happen easily.”
Looked upon in other parts of Colombia as a bizarre and even grotesque spectacle, the corralejas (pronounced koh-rah-LEH-has) are passionately defended by residents of the northern savannas, an impoverished region with a cattle-ranching culture going back centuries.
Dozens of towns hold such bull festivals at this time of year, when temperatures here climb above 90 degrees. Deaths are not uncommon. Sincelejo, the capital of Sucre Province, boasts the largest corraleja of them all, a six-day affair in January that ended Tuesday.
The event here makes normal bullfights and related rituals, like the running of the bulls in Pamplona, Spain, seem restrained and quaint by comparison.
The rural poor, the urban unemployed, testosterone-filled adolescents, drifters, shopkeepers, mechanics — as long as they are undaunted by the possibility of severe injury or death — enter an arena on Sincelejo’s outskirts made from lumber and discarded pieces of wood.
From 2 to 6 p.m. each day in the ring, hundreds of these “manteros,” including a handful of women, waved red capes advertising spirits (Harris Whisky, anyone?) or the candidacies of local politicians. One middle-aged man ran around the arena dressed in a yellow Speedo. Another participant, a transvestite, wore a miniskirt and green knee socks.
Others lighted small fires in the ring, brewing coffee as if they were at a picnic
. One man wandered the ring with a sign that said, “If you like war, send your son to war.”
The ring was more like a battlefield than a picnic. Periodically, a bull was released into the crowd, a total of 40 bulls over the four hours. The bulls were harassed by about two dozen horsemen carrying barbed sticks called banderillas, used to prod them into lunging madly into the throng. This worked well, resulting in many wounded manteros.
The bulls are not killed in the corralejas as they typically are in bullfights in Colombia. But if a bull is exhausted or, as often happens, tripped up by a rope held by the participants, the crowd swarms in, pelting it with rocks, kicking it, slapping it, spitting on it and pulling its tail.
Observing this in the stands are cattlemen and others of the moneyed classes. They throw 2,000-peso notes (about $1) and bottles of rum to the most popular manteros.
“I recognize that one cannot avoid the comparison with the Roman Colosseum,” said Inis Amador, a lawyer who helped revive Sincelejo’s corralejas in the late 1990s. They were discontinued in 1980, when more than 200 people died after a wooden arena collapsed, crushing spectators gathered under the stands.
“But why do some cultures race automobiles or climb Himalayan mountains or box each other to a pulp?” Mr. Amador, 54, said. “This is about the ecstasy of escaping death. It is part of us as human beings.”
For reasons simple and complex, the corralejas are a resilient feature of life on the savannas. “It’s fun,” said Alirio Paternina, 38, a mechanic, as he emerged smiling from the Red Cross tent with a bandaged hand that had been accidentally speared by a horseman. “My hand feels like it is on fire, but I’m fine.”
These were not victims of the civil war that has afflicted this country for four decades. They were participants in the corraleja, a bullfighting ritual in northern Colombia pitting hundreds of amateur matadors, many in advanced stages of inebriation, against a 900-pound bull.
“This year was calm, no deaths yet,” said Felipe Bertel Muñoz, who broadcast the names, ages and injuries of the wounded to the listeners of RCN Radio. “Some say it is good luck for at least one person to die, but our paramedics are too talented to let that happen easily.”
Looked upon in other parts of Colombia as a bizarre and even grotesque spectacle, the corralejas (pronounced koh-rah-LEH-has) are passionately defended by residents of the northern savannas, an impoverished region with a cattle-ranching culture going back centuries.
Dozens of towns hold such bull festivals at this time of year, when temperatures here climb above 90 degrees. Deaths are not uncommon. Sincelejo, the capital of Sucre Province, boasts the largest corraleja of them all, a six-day affair in January that ended Tuesday.
The event here makes normal bullfights and related rituals, like the running of the bulls in Pamplona, Spain, seem restrained and quaint by comparison.
The rural poor, the urban unemployed, testosterone-filled adolescents, drifters, shopkeepers, mechanics — as long as they are undaunted by the possibility of severe injury or death — enter an arena on Sincelejo’s outskirts made from lumber and discarded pieces of wood.
From 2 to 6 p.m. each day in the ring, hundreds of these “manteros,” including a handful of women, waved red capes advertising spirits (Harris Whisky, anyone?) or the candidacies of local politicians. One middle-aged man ran around the arena dressed in a yellow Speedo. Another participant, a transvestite, wore a miniskirt and green knee socks.
Others lighted small fires in the ring, brewing coffee as if they were at a picnic
. One man wandered the ring with a sign that said, “If you like war, send your son to war.”The ring was more like a battlefield than a picnic. Periodically, a bull was released into the crowd, a total of 40 bulls over the four hours. The bulls were harassed by about two dozen horsemen carrying barbed sticks called banderillas, used to prod them into lunging madly into the throng. This worked well, resulting in many wounded manteros.
The bulls are not killed in the corralejas as they typically are in bullfights in Colombia. But if a bull is exhausted or, as often happens, tripped up by a rope held by the participants, the crowd swarms in, pelting it with rocks, kicking it, slapping it, spitting on it and pulling its tail.
Observing this in the stands are cattlemen and others of the moneyed classes. They throw 2,000-peso notes (about $1) and bottles of rum to the most popular manteros.
“I recognize that one cannot avoid the comparison with the Roman Colosseum,” said Inis Amador, a lawyer who helped revive Sincelejo’s corralejas in the late 1990s. They were discontinued in 1980, when more than 200 people died after a wooden arena collapsed, crushing spectators gathered under the stands.
“But why do some cultures race automobiles or climb Himalayan mountains or box each other to a pulp?” Mr. Amador, 54, said. “This is about the ecstasy of escaping death. It is part of us as human beings.”
For reasons simple and complex, the corralejas are a resilient feature of life on the savannas. “It’s fun,” said Alirio Paternina, 38, a mechanic, as he emerged smiling from the Red Cross tent with a bandaged hand that had been accidentally speared by a horseman. “My hand feels like it is on fire, but I’m fine.”
lunes, 9 de noviembre de 2009
FOR SALE.... IN COLOMBIA
This 22-acre estate, in the mountainous outskirts of Villa de Leyva, a colonial village about 110 miles from Bogotá, has a 690-square-meter (7,427-square-foot) house.
Built in 1988, the house has six bedrooms and six baths. It is rustic in appearance, with exposed posts and beams, and is built of adobe and local woods, including cedar and guayacán.
The house has lots of space for entertaining, including two living rooms, two dining rooms, a game room with a pool table and a bar area with a widescreen projector. There are also two kitchens, three fireplaces and a small chapel area.
The expansive property has both flat and hilly areas, and includes a lake, a natural waterfall and camping areas. There is also a large courtyard, plus parking for six vehicles.
Villa de Leyva is a popular weekend destination for residents of Bogotá, the capital of Colombia. The drive takes about four hours, although highway improvements (to be completed this year) will make the trip closer to three hours, said Mauricio Jaimes, a real estate agent and founder of BuyColombiaRealty.com. The estate is 4.5 km (2.8 miles) from the town center, about a 10-minute drive. MARKET OVERVIEW
Colombia’s real estate market had its own collapse in the late 1990s. At the time, the most common type of financing was adjustable rate mortgages, which were tied to skyrocketing inflation rates. As the value of the Colombian peso declined and the cost of living increased, so, too, did mortgage payments. Many homeowners soon owed more money than their homes were worth, and foreclosures became rampant. “The market was dead,” Mr. Jaimes said.
Things turned around in 2001. Political stability, combined with a growing economy and the introduction of fixed-rate mortgages, helped real estate recover, Mr. Jaimes explained.
Since then, prices have increased steadily, according to Juanita Reyes, corporate accounts manager at Colliers International Colombia. On average, housing prices have risen 25 percent during the past decade, she said, adding that high-end properties had increased even more substantially, by 40 to 50 percent.
Since then, prices have increased steadily, according to Juanita Reyes, corporate accounts manager at Colliers International Colombia. On average, housing prices have risen 25 percent during the past decade, she said, adding that high-end properties had increased even more substantially, by 40 to 50 percent.
The number of real estate transactions rose sharply, too, said Brian Requarth,
a founder of VivaReal Network, an online real estate portal based in Bogotá that specializes in Latin America. In 2003, there were 290,000 transactions; in 2007, there were 410,000.
Today, prices in Colombian cities range from $600 to $1,200 per square meter ($56 to $112 per square foot) for an older home; $1,000 to $2,400 per square meter ($93 to $223 a square foot) for high-end new construction, Ms. Reyes said.
a founder of VivaReal Network, an online real estate portal based in Bogotá that specializes in Latin America. In 2003, there were 290,000 transactions; in 2007, there were 410,000.Today, prices in Colombian cities range from $600 to $1,200 per square meter ($56 to $112 per square foot) for an older home; $1,000 to $2,400 per square meter ($93 to $223 a square foot) for high-end new construction, Ms. Reyes said.
Domestic tourism has rebounded, too. As a result, popular destinations like Villa de Leyva and Cartagena, on the Caribbean coast, have seen sharp price increases, Ms. Reyes said.
In Villa de Levya, prices run $70 to $80 per square foot, according to Mr. Requarth. Land prices, however, plummet in the town’s rural outskirts, going as low as $1 per square foot. (Construction prices range from $20 to $40 a square foot, he added.)
Since the global economic crisis, real estate prices nationwide have flattened and inventory is back on the rise, said Mr. Requarth, adding that the Colombian peso, fluctuating wildly, has suffered an overall decline of 35 percent since September.
Housing prices are again likely to sag, Mr. Requarth said. Nonetheless, Colombia’s economy is projected to grow this year, albeit at a slower pace than previous years, Ms. Reyes said.
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