The Countdown Begins

Monday is a holiday in Colombia, but of course DaVinci has to work because his job hates us and doesn’t want us to be together. He decides to go in at 10 so we can have our perfect morning routine… Swoon.


He leaves me be in the apartment to finish the coffee and hang there while I decide where my day will go. I sit there for hours, surfing the web for the silver lining on Venezuela or flight cancellations to the U.S. Feeling no closer to answers, I notice it’s actually a really nice day out. Gorgeous actually. I mobilize to meet Sarita (my only friend in Medellin) at a coffee shop I have never tried. I word vomit all of my thoughts to her and we pros and cons, devil advocate, etc.


I think I have made one decision. I am moving to the hood! It’s not really the hood. It’s actually quite neighborhoodly, but it is in Strata 3 and definitely working class slash where teenage pregnancy happens. For comparison, I live in Strata 6 now, the nicest of strata’s in a very elite gated community.

I manage to make a lot of progress on my thesis data analysis and we treat ourselves to a shopping trip to Exito to get a few home items to spruce up DaVinci’s place. Nothing too girly, flowery or extravagant, just some hand soap and a new shower curtain.

I still haven’t been home since Bogota, but have enough in that overstuffed backpack to survive. Plus my new Zara outfit. I have a key to DaVinci’s now so I head back to unload the Exito items before he returns. I am so happy with the purchases and so is he! The changes aren’t too overwhelming and he tells me that almost everything in the apartment came with it, so I don’t feel so bad anymore. And hey, who doesn’t like a new showerhead anyway?

We hang for awhile until I’m done with a skype call and we head out to explore some more. He has mapped out a big circle in the city to go in on the motorcycle.

First stop, Café Otra Parte in Laureles. A pretty well known café, but not on the beaten path. I order a disappointing tapas meat plate. It was literally at least 20 mini stacked French bread things, with weird mayonnaise, a pickle and 2 pieces of low quality pepperoni. Failed attempt, but now I know. DaVinci’s sandwich wasn’t terrible, so maybe that’s the route to take if I ever go again.

Next up is a park in Belen, across the river. Here you can find street performers practicing, plenty of marijuana and people just hanging on the hillside enjoying the company and city lights.

As we head back over the river towards Centro, we start climbing the hills. I just love seeing my hair blowing in the wind through his rearview mirror, the buzz of the motor below my feet and the pull of the bike as I grab on to him harder to hold on. As we park the bike, I look up to see a huge (like 100 feet tall) statue and DaVinci promptly tells me “yes, that’s Jesus.” Mmmm k.

We walk past a group of youth that are apparently drug dealers and settle in on a park bench. That’s when I notice it. My bowl that is Medellin. The lights are glowing and everything looks so beautiful. I know that we are in a poorer area of the city, but this is a luxurious view. We giggle and kiss there for a little bit before he tells me our last stop is the best view.

I’m pretty tired so I am glad it will be our last stop, but I wonder how much better it can get. We swoop up the hills past his apartment, well it will be mine soon, and maneuver the curves before finding a whole stretch swarmed with cars and motorbikes alongside roadside bbq’s and street food stands.

As we walk towards the edge, my smile just stretches larger and larger. This. Is. It. AND I am with DaVinci. We order cheesy hot chocolate and sugar water while gazing at this obscene view. I can see the whole bowl here. I feel as though I am in the clouds (literally and figuratively).

I truly know that I am the luckiest girl in the world.



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