Posted by: Sarah | December 4, 2006

Home, home, where I wanted to go…

I use the word “home” very interchangably. While back in the States, within the same conversation, I would say that I was “going home to hang out with my roommates”, referring to my old apartment where I crashed for a couple nights, followed shortly by “when I get back home” meaning Colombia. 

Coming back home to Barranquilla was welcomed just as much as going back home to Madison. I couldn’t stop smiling when I landed at OHare a couple weeks ago, and I felt exactly the same way when I arrived to Bogota late Thursday night. I love Bogota more and more each time that I visit and was happy to be able to spend a few days there chilling and going out before I headed back to the coast.

I had missed drinking wine with my roommates in my hammock and fresh juice any time, day or night. I missed speaking broken Spanish and all the seemingly insignificant oddities that I have come to know and love about B’Quilla. I missed the coast, seeing palm trees out my office window, being able to wear skirts and sandals everyday, and going to the pool to tan after work. More than anything else, I missed the music and I missed the dancing.

Everyone knows everyone in this city and everyone’s business, and while that may be annoying at times, it was welcoming to have the porteros (doormen) at our apartment, the cleaning ladies who work at the university who always chat with Alex and I, and the owner of the Dulcerna (the bakery that we have become regulars at for their free wireless and delicious milkshakes) all ask where I had been because they hadn’t seen me in a few weeks.

Welcome back. Welcome home.

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Responses

  1. when my family was coming to visit Chile, we had some really confusing conversations about when they were “leaving”…I meant it as leaving the US, they meant it as leaving Chile. Which is neither here nor there I guess…


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