I won't lie; my travels in Latin America have been a struggle. My standards for comfort and cleanliness are desperately challenged there, and seeing such abject poverty and feeling helpless to do anything about it makes me sad. For example, have a look at this nightmare from when we were in Costa Rica! Eeeeek.
Gerald, on the other hand, would live in Latin America if he could. The two of us couldn't be any more different. His love for this culture has taken him to Guatemala, Peru, Ecuador, Costa Rica, Colombia twice, and Mexico three times.
In the olden days, I kept myself either pregnant or nursing pretty much all the time, so travel to developing nations wasn't an option. That, of course, is no longer the case. I've accompanied Gerald to Mexico, Ecuador, Costa Rica, and now Colombia.
And Colombia is the best of all!
Really, though. This trip was by far the easiest and most enjoyable of any of the above-mentioned Latin American adventures. Here are the tales of my days in Colombia:
There is...
The day I flew to overnight via JFK: It was 10:00 p.m., almost fully dark, a layer of smoke hovering over the Salt Lake Valley, when Eli and Amanda drove me to the airport. By the time I left, both Gerald and Isaiah were already in Colombia, so I traveled alone. The red-eye flight was 100% full and I had a middle seat, making sleep nearly impossible. I spent four hours at JFK, where I searched high and low for Diet Coke but never found one, before boarding my final flight to Cartagena. Beyond exhausted, I landed mid-afternoon the following day. The line through customs was long, hot, and slow-moving, but I made it though to find my favorite Isaiah waiting for me on the other side. I was so happy to see him!
The day I climbed a fortress and toured a torture chamber: Isaiah is a history buff and has a particular eerie obsession with the darker periods of the human existence, so when Gerald mentioned the museum in Cartagena that includes torture devices used by the Catholic Church in the 1600s, he was all in! To see them, we had to climb and climb all the way up to the top of a gray, cement fortress. The smaller torture devices were unsettling enough, but when I walked out into a courtyard way at the top of the fortress and ran smack into a guillotine, I was more than ready to descend back down and out of there.
The day I danced salsa with two Erichsen men: Our hostel was possibly my favorite place in all of Colombia. I'd have been happy just to chill there all six days. Dedicated, meticulous workers labor constantly, sweeping, mopping, scrubbing, and sanitizing. As a result, the place sparkles! It even smelled clean. I spent many hours sitting out by the pool and surrounding courtyard, reading. I read three books in six days. These awesome lounging pads are way more comfortable than any chair or recliner, and I slept on them for at least two hours each night, under the stars, before going up to our room.
One night, as Isaiah and I sat by the pool, a guy came and asked us to take a salsa dance lesson. He gathered up a few more people, and we were set. Salsa dancing is awesome and so easy. That is unless you happen to struggle with coordination. Isaiah tried so hard, and eventually began to get it (sort of?), but then Gerald came out and replaced him. Let's just say that, for Gerald, the struggle was real. For me, it was blissfully satisfying to actually excel at something. As we've established so many times in this blog, my skillset is woefully limited. But dancing? Yep, I'm good at that.
The day I didn't go to church: Whenever we travel, Gerald finds the closest ward or branch so we can go to church. We walked about 30 minutes to find the chapel but, sadly, no signs of life. It looked like the building might be under repair but no way to know. After walking 30 minutes in the warm, crazy-humid climate, my makeup had completely dripped off, so this is a crappy picture, but whatever.
The day I rode the Jungle Cruise ride but didn't go snorkeling: Gerald scheduled a beach tour, which included lunch and snorkeling, along with plenty of time to swim in the warm, blue water of the Caribbean. It was a long walk to the meet-up site and an even longer bus ride to the beach. Then we trekked across the sand for miles in the heat, until we finally arrived at an open-air, bamboo hut, which provided welcomed shade. It was lovely, and we were so grateful. They fed us a traditional Colombian lunch of fish (head included!), coconut rice, fried plantains, and salad. It was all so yummy!
This beach day also offered a "snorkeling" excursion. My prior snorkeling experience is limited, but it has always included a mask AND breathing apparatus, making it possible to float on the top of the water, face down, and breathe, while enjoying the underwater view of big, colorful, tropical fish. By this definition, what we did in Colombia was
not snorkeling. Instead, a very cool guy took us on a boat across the water to a nearby a reef, handed us masks, and told us to get out. Then he gave us pieces of bread and demonstrated how to lure thousands of tiny, white fish up to the surface. These little guys came right up and nipped at our fingers to get the bread, but with no breathing apparatus, we had to hold our breath in order to see them. So not real snorkeling, but still fun. When we finished, the guy helped hoist Gerald and Isaiah back into the boat, using his hands as a stirrup, but he picked me up entirely, like a baby, and deposited me next to them. It was a delightful afternoon at the beach; we all enjoyed swimming in the warm water, but I think Isaiah enjoyed it the most.
The day I grieved along with the president: It was Monday afternoon, and the three of us sat outside a shopping mall, huddled around a table with our ears to Isaiah's cell phone. We listened as President Biden addressed the nation and explained his decision to withdraw U.S. troops from Afghanistan after our 20-year occupation there. It was heart-wrenching. No one felt it more than the president did. You could see it in his eyes. While there was no good decision in this situation, I believe he made the right one. That said, along with him and so many other Americans, I grieve the tragedy of the circumstances there.
The day I went to Walgreens: After landing in Cartagena and walking for a couple hours all around the city in intense humidity, Isaiah and I needed some bottled water. Have I mentioned that they don't have Diet Coke in Colombia? No? Let me mention that. They don't have Diet Coke in Colombia. What are two Diet Coke addicts like Isaiah and me to do? Bottled water! So we walked into a store called the Farmatodo, but really, it was just Walgreen's in disguise. It was situated on a corner, and once inside, I could have sworn I was back in the U.S. wandering around Walgreen's. This made me feel safe and at home and I just loved it, so we wandered up and down each aisle, in search of nothing (once we had our bottled water) but looking at everything. Here's a picture of the outside:
The day I ate at a restaurant named after my dog: Riding in the Taxi from the airport, I closed my eyes and gripped the leather seat for dear life, as we weaved in and out of traffic, cars everywhere, moving every which way, with seemingly no rules at all! PTSD from former trips to Latin America, anyone? At one point as we neared our hostel, I dared to open just one eye, and saw a restaurant called Crepes and Waffles. Now we all love crepes, and Waffles is our dog's name, so of course we had to go there. I can't adequately describe how good my Mexican crepe was, but here's a picture:
As it turned out, Isaiah made 100% of our dining choices, and I think that, in addition to our lovely hostel with a "Walgreen's" on the corner, Isaiah's food choices are what made this trip so much better than past ones. We simply ate the best food every day. From steak and potatoes to Wiener Schnitzel, from fish smothered in crab sauce to ice cream sundaes, from Ramen to seafood chowder, every bite was delicious.
The day I tested negative for COVID: Even though I already had COVID19 AND have received two doses of the Moderna vaccine, time stood still as I awaited the results of my nasal COVID test. Two masked, uniformed nurses showed up at our door Tuesday morning, carrying all the items needed to administer this test, which would make it possible for me to return to the United States the following day. Had I tested positive, I would have been forced to quarantine inside a Colombian hotel for 10 days. Yep, I was nervous. I enjoyed Colombia and I'm glad I went, but I was also ready to go home. Then I laughed at how much this test resembled a pregnancy test. One line for negative; two for positive. So grateful for only one line:
The day I steered a pirate ship in the rain at sunset: I thought it was just a photo op when the guy told me to come take hold of the wheel, but then when he kindly grabbed the wheel back to keep us on track, I realized I was actually steering the ship! Isaiah too.
We took this lovely sunset cruise aboard a pirate ship, but just prior to the "sunset" part, it began to rain. Hard. For awhile, we all went downstairs to stay dry, but eventually we came up again because we wanted to see the sunset and why let a little rain stop us. It was so pretty! Here we are drenched:
It was the best evening of the week, and here is one final picture to prove it:
The day I landed in Miami and went straight for a Diet Coke: I had not had a Diet Coke in six days. I can't remember the last time that would have been true. I landed in Miami late Wednesday night and went straight for the nearest food establishment, where I ordered a large Diet Coke on ice. So good. Then I flew on another plane to Phoenix, where I spent the night in a crappy Days Inn (only fearing for my life a little bit), and woke up at 5:15 a.m. so I could take my first hot shower in a week. Thursday morning I flew home to SLC, where Shulamith and Amanda greeted me at the airport, having sacrificed way too much of their time to come pick me up.
And those are the tales of my days in Colombia!
