In this opening address to my time in Colombia, I would like to thank everyone who has been supportive in my endeavours either by sending prayers, messaging me kind words, or reading this mumble jumble I spew out. I appreciate every second of your enthusiasm and I’m ecstatic to share my pure, unfiltered experiences with you over the next few months…
I woke to the sunlight pouring through my neighbour’s window while the pilot announced we had made it to Florida. The sun was pretty high up in the sky. I couldn’t believe I had actually slept for so long. I looked at my watch. “5 o’clock.” Wait. 5 o’clock? What the hell!? If it were really five in the morning, it wouldn’t be so light out! I panicked.
Instead of jumping to the most plausible of theories, aka time change, my thoughts went elsewhere.
“IT’S FIVE O’CLOCK IN THE EVENING. OH MY GOSH I MISSED MY FLIGHT. I’ve slept for hours!”
Now, I know what you’re thinking because I was 100% thinking it too after realizing the idiocracy of my statement.
Luckily, this was the most heart-pounding moment of my first full 24 hours. Hopefully, there will be more later, but I’m okay with an easy start to my adventures this time.
My plane flew over Cuba, Jamaica, and Aruba before arriving in Cartagena where, after the excitement wore off, I became aware of two things: the heat and the mosquitos. My sticky skin was already attracting the bastards and I’d not even been there an hour!
I checked into my hostel, where the smell of wet dog emulated a homely atmosphere for me and I took a shower before beginning my exploration of the city. The shower head was really low, but after what happened in Copacabana, (You can read about that experience here) I will forever refrain from touching foreign shower heads. I took a Buddy the Elf type shower, hunching over and splashing water onto my body. I REFUSED TO TOUCH IT.
The people of Colombia are, in general, much lighter skinned than my friends in Bolivia. This became a problem as I was consistently mistaking locals for backpackers and tourists. I sparked at least 5 different English conversations with people whom I didn’t realize were locals until I finally restated my sentence in Spanish to which they would reply “Ohh.”
Who knows. Maybe they were tourists who were just trying to avoid me. The tourists that I have met, however, have all been from Germanic countries like Denmark, Netherlands, and Belgium. And they have ALL commented (multiple times within a single conversation) on how unbearably hot it is. I, however, am loving this 80-degree weather and am glad to be away from all that Californian, as Dance Gavin Dance would put it, doom and gloom.
In Bolivia’s below freezing temperatures, I’m pretty sure I was actually dying at times from the icy weather while my Norse colleagues just grinned at my intolerance. “You think this is cold?” They would laugh.
WELL GUESS WHO’S LAUGHING NOW. You’re in my element, son! *Swats mosquito*
SUMMER BREAK FOREVER.