Por el Amor de mi Tierra

I love this country; everything in Colombia is vibrant. During the day, the colors of the sea set against the rich color palette of the buildings in Old Town are stunning. At night, the music of this culture plays at every corner, lending the night energy and promise of a memorable evening ahead.

Everyone here seems happy, passionate and full of life; from the exuberant exclamations during heated partidos de futbol to playful salsa dancing on the streets at night.

The other day I caught the Colombia vs. Bolivia soccer match and was immersed amongst the locals cheering on their country. The scene was amazing--an outdoor bar with men and women wearing the Colombian colors and collectively inhaling sharply during goals almost scored. Once Colombia snuck a goal past Bolivia's goalkeeper, the crowd erupted into hysteria spraying Aguila beer, blowing on vuvuzelas and cheering in Spanish.

At night, the scene is less sensual than one might expect of Colombia. The nights are an on-going festival where lights blur as people are whipped into a frenzy of Cumbia and Salsa dancing. Walking around Cartagena at night, every corner seems to hold the promise of an amazing fiesta to be discovered. People from the bars spill out onto the streets of La Ciudad Vieja to dance while others sip on Club Colombia cervezas in the warm, balmy night. 

 If every place on earth could have one descriptive word by which to identify it, I think Cartagena's word would be "alive." In Cartagena you always feel alive as your senses are ignited with Caribbean flavors, Latin music and rich colors. 

While at the beach the other day, I met a Colombian family from Baranquilla. The 15 year old daughter was fascinated by my life in New York and during the course of our 20 minute (entirely in Spanish!) conversation, I learned about how much she idolizes New York City and all it represents. Sitting there on the beach, in the waves, I found it funny how my life seemed like a dream to her and hers a dream to me. Her family was kind and came over to take photos with their new, New York friend as well as generously hand over a woven sun hat for me to keep.

It was my second to last day in Cartagena and nostalgia was starting to set in as I tried to capture the sights, smells, sounds and flavors of Colombia to carry back with me to New York. I was talking to the uncle of my new Baranquilla friend and he asked me about New York and how I liked Cartagena by comparison. In Spanish, I gushed about Colombia and how I wished to keep traveling; that if the rest of the country proved as lively as Cartagena, then I wanted to keep exploring. My new friend turned to me, warmly smiled and called me un pajaro libre, a free bird. 

In the words of the airplane pilot who flew us home, we're back from paradise and home to reality now. My first night back I must have heard the words "welcome back to reality," at least a dozen times. I know that every dream must have a reality, every honeymoon must end and every pajaro libre must have a nest; but for now I'm happy to have experienced Cartagena and look forward to the day my airplane pilot says, "welcome back to paradise."