The flight to Bogotá is only a little over an hour but I felt more tired when I got off the plane than when I started. At the same time, I was incredibly excited. December 21st in Curaçao and the temperature outside was in the mid 80s. This isn't winter! Are you kidding me? More importantly, I would be going to a place that I had never been to before, stretching out my Spanish again, learning new things.
I was reminded of so many things when coming here. I remembered the first time that I flew on a plane with my Mom and I had to keep popping my ears. She gave us gum. I recalled another trip where there was a lot of turbulence because of the clouds and my Mom told me not to be scared. I remember the coldness around me in the plane as I flew from ATL to Frankfurt and then took a train to Metz right after completing a huge project for my senior year in college. It was during a Spring Break; I was in a daze and all I wanted to do was sleep for a week.
The plane landed safely in Bogotá. I got out with all my luggage and thankful that I could go directly out as I hadn't checked anything in. There is a moment. There is always a moment where you have gathered yourself, gone through all the security checks and you are heading to the exit. You either will go through a door or turn a corner. In that moment, in front of you there is a wall of eyes: eyes who suddenly seem to stop looking anywhere else and focus on where you are and filter you. Those eyes are all waiting for their friends and family and in front of them, there is you and you alone. You are looking into the mass of people, and you too are scanning, sorting and discarding in a matter of milliseconds (too short, too tall, wow she's hot, too young, too old...) the people who do not belong to you.
It must be a question of the expected unexpected. You know someone is going to be there to pick you up and so you are filled with excitement to see them and to see a familiar face. And, there is that slight panic of "where are they?" that you unconsciously release is being reflected by the wall of eyes looking upon you. They too are asking "where are they?" and as all the eyes seem to be one and are thinking and exhibiting as one, the question is strikingly more important to you than it has been before this moment.
And then, there is another moment. This moment comes when you actually see whom you are looking for. In this moment, there is an excited, somewhat awkward greeting, everyone seems to breath in, glance around slightly and breath out as if to say, "Well that's that" and off you go. As I was exiting the airport, Gaston and Brisa saw me through a side window to the right of the wall of eyes and excitedly pointed me in the direction I should go to meet them. The moment was shared, expressed and passed by all.
Brisa's friend, Daisy, happened to be there picking up one of her friends and offered to give us a ride back. Lesson number 1: People here greet differently. Both men and women shake hands in a somewhat business manner. There is not kiss to the cheek the first time you greet a female. As I went in to kiss Daisy's cheek, I felt and saw her hesitate, dart her eyes and then accept. When she introduced me to her friend who was male, I went in with the intention of side-five, knuckles and instead got an limp handshake.
Entering into Brisa's parents' house in Chia, I almost had to stop in my tracks. It felt so much like my grandma's house. I don't know exactly what it was. Was it the color and hue of the paint? Was it the cold concrete stairs with the low ceiling? Was it the temperature? Was it the smell? Was it the organized clutter? I could not tell, but I felt utterly home for the moment. Melancholy is not normally I word I associate with home but I suppose since I'm not actually there that feeling came as well.
It seems like ages ago that I saw my family. I wonder how they have changed. I wonder what they think about. I wonder how tall my brother and sister have grown. And I miss their company and presence and I long to be with them. At the same time I yearn to learn about new places and put myself in situations to experience new things. I think I will wrestle with these feeling for a long time.
Gaston, Brisa and I had dinner and gave me a general briefing of their plans. The next day, Brisa would go to pick up her friend Sunny and Sunny's son, Daylin. They would all take a bus directly to La Vega, where Brisa's parents have a farm. Gaston and I would go downtown in Chia and explore and then Ricardo (Brisa's brother) would drive Isabele (Ricardo's wife), Gaston and I to meet up with everyone there.
The night was dark and cold and for that I was thankful. I wrapped myself up in the blankets like a caterpillar, making sure that the daylight would not wake me up. When I did awake, the light was fog-like and dreamy. There was a certain luster of brilliant light that playfully bounced around the house.
In Colombia... well at least in the house I was in, they have hot water but it does not come from a big water heater; it comes from a heater on the shower head. I think it is a wonderful idea as I'm sure it saves electricity. The trick though, is you have have to turn the knob slowly until you hear the apparatus turn on. Or if you go to far, just turn it slightly back.
Downtown Chia was full of life: it is not a big town but everyone was biking, walking or taking buses. There were shoe stores at every block, there was a whole store dedicated to friuts... with fruits I had never seen or heard about before. To the left, you will see a picture of a granadilla. It has a hard outer shell and a slimy mucus-like center. When I first saw it, I was skeptical but it is now one of my favorite fruits.
That afternoon, we packed up the car to the brim. Everyone was carrying something in his/her lap and Ricardo drove about an hour and a half to get to his parents' farm in La Vega. The farm is aptly named Las Vegas. Come to Las Vegas in La Vega. Vega means "fertile plain" in Spanish (Vegas being the plural of that I assume). Come to the Fertile Plains of the Fertile Plain.
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