Get Thee to a Nunnery

Ever since its invention a couple centuries ago, the light bulb has been used as the symbol of a new idea or a realization, among other less important uses. It's a metaphor that seems natural since it's reflecting the switch turning on in your brain, or the synapses firing in a way that brings a thought to your mind. Unfortunately, in my case, that bulb is more often a lone candle that gets blown out by the train leaving the station before I can possibly remember what the hell that undoubtedly mediocre idea was. So, it is with little pride and boat-loads of shame that I just recently remembered I have yet to write about the monastery in which I live.

First, I will bore you with history. In 1960, monks from Assumption Abbey in North Dakota were invited to start an all male high-school in Bogota. Yes, you read that right, an abbey in North Dakota. So, they saddled up the carriages and trotted on down to Colombia, bought a large chunk of then-unwanted land north of Bogota, and began a priory called Tibati Monastery, Tibati meaning "Joy of the Lord" in a local indigenous language. They also started a bilingual private elementary and high-school for boys, Colegio San Carlos, which quickly became one of the country's elite educational institutions. What has certainly helped is that some of Colombia's most influential figures are graduates. For example, the current Colombian president, Juan Manuel Santos, is a graduate, as well as other ministers and delegates who have since poured money into making it a phenomenal school. Over time, the city expanded and Tibati Monastery now sits at the northern edge of the city, with a hefty chunk of now valuable land under its belt.

The beautifully constructed master map proudly displayed below elegantly demonstrates the location of both monastery and school in relation to the surrounding city. The red dot, where Devon and I are staying, is now the guesthouse. But it used to be where the monks stayed until they built a separate small quadrangle, which surrounds the green dot.

Map of Tibati Monastery and supported schools, San Carlos and San Benito. My apologies, Jean, for the quality of this map. GIS is even harder to come by here, but Google maps has found its way into every country.

After a few years, the monks probably realized how wealthy their school was becoming, so they began a smaller school nearby for those families who can't necessarily keep up with the Jones' at San Carlos. So while I live next to a classroom at CSC I actually walk off the grounds to teach at San Benito, the yellow dot, begun in 1979 (a separate post will be written later for the school and my experiences teaching there so far). While San Carlos hosts over a thousand boys for elementary and high school, San Benito has under 500 students, boys and girls, from 6th to 11th grade (11th graders are seniors in Colombia).

So while I have the benefits of the peace and quiet of living on monastic grounds, we also live far enough away where we can blare music, movies, or guitar music, and generally come and go as we please. The only drawback is in its very proximity to the aforementioned school. The grade school starts and ends earlier than the highschool, and the former begins at 6:30am. Since I normally plan on waking up no sooner than 6:40am in time to make it to breakfast twenty minutes later, I have been making excellent use of my earplugs to avoid screaming and excited little boys running around the campus before class. As if I weren't getting enough of the school experience, my room is at the end of the hall and shares a wall with a classroom on the other side. Contributing to the fun/hell, down the hall and through a couple of doors is the administrative offices of San Carlos. They aren't necessarily loud, they just get to see our barely awake asses freshly dragged out of bed on our groggy way to breakfast.

Overall, living here is pretty damn cushy. I hopped on a plane to Colombia expecting to be sharing a room with another volunteer in a monastery packed in the middle of a South American metropolis. The privileged reality is that I have my own room that's larger than my own in the States, equipped with its own bathroom/shower, and separate keys to come and go as I please. And if I forget my keys, there are two entrances on either side that have 24hr guard service who would let us in and out. Oh, and did I mention that I don't have to cook any meals or do any of my own laundry? As much as I want to write about how I'm growing up and becoming an independent and marginally successful human being, sometimes it feels like my only responsibility is to wipe.

Don't worry, the level of coddling is not lost on me. But, biblically speaking, if you're supposed to treat others like Christ, then I'd say the monks and staff at el Monasterio Benedictino de Tibati are doing a hell of a fine job with their two gringo guests.

J

Spanish word o' the day: you want to be confused? Colegio you would think means "college," but it actually means high-school, but only the institution. Bachillerato is "highschool," the education. For example, a short conversation could be, "Where did you complete your bachillerato?" "At Colegio San Benito."  Also, Universidad is "university/college." So you can imagine the questions and confusion when I wear my College of Saint Benedict shirt when I teach at a high-school called Colegio San Benito. Hell, now I'm confused.

Song in my head lately: My brother, Ben, sent me a recording from the Avett Brother's concert at the MN State Fair on Saturday that he and Ellory went to. I now have Avett Brother's Murder in the City in my head, which is just fantastic because I now live in a city. Thanks, Ben. But it's a tearjearker because it talks about strong familial bonds. So thanks, Ben.

                               Monastery patio                                                                   Making pizza

Garden/Courtyard #2, with a view of #1 through glass hall

Garden/Courtyard #1