Having been home less than 48 hrs, I was moping into work this past Monday attempting not to be consumed by my feelings of self-pity now that I was back at “this job”; the first recognizable face I saw was the Latino cleaning lady who comes by to clean our desks once or twice a week. We smiled, and I might have said, “hola”, and kept it moving as I pondered did she notice my absence the past two months.

Flashback: So maybe one or even two years ago, I can’t remember exactly, the cleaning lady and I were in the pantry on my floor and she began speaking to me in Spanish. I told her, “no hablo español”. She continued talking and I repeated. She seemed very confused that I didn’t know the language. I can only assume it’s because of my name which she’s undoubtedly seen hanging outside my cubicle. Since then, it’s been pretty much only hola or a mucho gracias after she wipes down my desk which I normally decline.

Later in the day, I was in the same previously mentioned pantry cleaning of my plate when she entered the room. I looked over at her and had the thought “wait, I can talk her now”:

Me: Hola, fui en Cartagena para dos mesas. Ahora mi español es un poco mejor.

Her: Siiiii, “with a very surprised looking on her face”

Me: Neccesito hablar mi español porque pratico aprendiendo

Her: ‘she corrected what I said’. Con quien

Me: Contigo.  Podemos hablar ahora entonces neccisito praticar.

Her: ‘ Her face had a look of astonishment with her eyes bulged and smiling’ CLARO CLARO, ESO ESO.

That’s not verbatim but the gist of the convo. I couldn’t help but walk away with a smile on my face thinking okay maybe my Spanish did get a little better. The delightful look on her face was a pleasure. Also, hearing her say eso reminded me of my violin teacher saying eso eso after I played a tune correctly. It’s like saying, good job. She also recognized my level and talked very slowly for me. During our brief exchange, I had this almost surreal moment of really seeing and “knowing” her for the first time. Trippy!

Okay, you’re not here read about the days and life of Ricardo at work in DC. This blog is about Cartagena, Colombia but it was a moment directly related to my stay.

I home back in DC. How was my trip you might ask? It wouldn’t be an exaggeration to say life changing! I think any extended travel to a foreign environment can’t but help shift our perception of the world and reality if only in a minuscule way. So, living in a foreign land with two non-English speakers for two months doing things you’ve never done, has like I said, been an existential experience. Heck, as I said before, I never even lived anywhere but DC.

What will I miss about Cartagena?

l will miss meeting new people. I’ll miss the friends I made and the community of Domino Volunteers.  I befriended four people in Alex, Lisa, Sarah and Hannah, whom it was a pleasure to getting to know past a superficial level; and took trips with, volunteered with, went site seeing with, shared meals with and philosophized about life with. Three of them are from England and two of which are half my age (Go figure but I have a young spirit). I guess that means I connect with Brits and should check out England. I’ve met kindred spirits looking for their path. I’ve met people ending a year’s long excursion and others just at the beginning. I’ve met people who fell in love with Cartagena while volunteering and soon returned to live. I’ve met a bunch of folks from the DC area. And I also met a curious amount of Alexes. I met an English student in La Boquilla named Richard, so the joke was we both had the same but wrong names to later learn we share the same birthday when we were teaching the class months and days of the week (Come to think of it he could be my age. Should have asked him what year he was born too.) I’ve met several Colombians at Domino Volunteers English Conversation Club. A refreshing experience providing another mouth and ear, so they could practice their English. I met a slew of volunteers via Domino Volunteers or otherwise that have come and gone.

I’ll miss the guy who every morning announces up and down street the fruit he’s selling, as clear as if he was in our apartment. I’ll miss the peer in Manga and seeing people exercising at night. I’ll miss the warm greeting from the security guard in the apartment lobby. I’ll miss Guillermo’s naughty humor and I’ll miss Margaret saying “a la orden” after I say gracias. I’ll miss walking across the bridge to and from the old city. I’ll miss that look on Colombians’ faces when they realize I’m not Colombian after I speak. I’ll miss the view from Margaret’s apartment. I’ll miss the bustling walled city. I’ll miss Urban Latino and Reggaeton. I’ll miss Andrea my violin teacher saying relax whenever I raised and tensed my right shoulder while playing. I miss her saying eso eso when I played well. I’ll miss the wonderful organization of Domino Volunteers ran by Christina and Alex with the beautiful balcony view from the their 13th floor co-working space.

What did I learn?

I learned I liked teaching. At least teaching English to non-native speakers. It was tiring and challenging at times, but it was a joy. Who would have thought?  I went from sharing limited duties with a host of volunteers in the beginning to garnering more responsibility as volunteers left until it was only Sarah and I to split the teaching duties for the two back-to-back classes; then eventually leading the two classes solo after Sarah was made an offer she couldn’t refuse. Through a lot of observation and practice, I pulled it off.  Truly the more challenging the task the loftier the reward.

I learned to play the violin! Well, kind of…. It’s very hard but I’m learning and will continue to practice. What’s crazy is I can read music now because prior to my lessons I’d have a better chance at deciphering ancient Sumerian Cuneiform. Now, when I look at sheet music it’s not the equivalent of scribble scrabble and I can put paper to sound. Amazeballs! 

I remember how nervous I was before I left. Seems so long ago and so silly now. I must thank my parents for letting me store all my stuff. Thanks to Mr. and Mrs. Wilkins, Richelle, Ruthie and my family for all the wonderful encouragement and support. Shout out to everyone that checked in on me during my short stay.

Lastly, I’m not one to preach about my perspective on life and the world, we all have our own path and beliefs but since I have your attention I will say this… Life is fluid and flux, we do not need to grasp on to the things in our life so stringently as if everything is a life and death struggle. Our lives can be so much more balanced and content. Being without some much you realize you do not need much and we make things much more of hardship than need be. It’s no ones’ fault, we have all been conditioned this way. There’s an abundance of peace if we try to just live and let go because there’s truly nothing to hold on to!

Did you realize WhatsApp has a feature that allows you to no only send your location to someone but also for said individual to track you? Fascinating!!!

I left for Barranquilla Saturday morning for the car-ni-val. Some of the group left Friday afternoon while the remainder of the party left Saturday for only one night.

About half of the group of maybe fourteen people I knew and/or met the previous weekend. We were a Collection Colombians, Americans (one of whom is from the DC), Scots, Englanders, and one New Zealander. Gustavo my Spanish instructor put everything together. We stayed in a hostel I knew was bare bones ahead of the trip. It was merely to accommodate sleep and belongings. A few people merely had mattresses and mats to sleep on in a cramped a room, including me. I initially allotted for a bed but with overbooking because of carnival and our late arrival that’s what I ended up with. The bathrooms weren’t magnificent but like I said I expected all this preceding the trip. It was all good as only for a night. Upon arrival, there was some confusion as to where I’d sleep but it was remedied. I was placed on a mattress on a floor with some guys in our group.

Soon after it was time to head to the carnival, a 15-20 minute walk from our hostel. In advance of our trip, the plan was to get tickets in the bleachers for the parade, but we learned it sold out months ago. Nobody seemed disappointed with this outcome because we assumed it would provide more flexibility to roam about, while also still able to see the fancy costumes, dancing, and MC’s. Whelp, we were wrong. The bleachers obstructed any possible view of the parade caravan. We spent a good 45 minutes hoping to pinpoint a suitable area. In the process two guys with us had their phones pickpocketed. I was forewarned about the prevalent pickpocketing there. The first guy literally just had his phone out as he demonstrated his student counseling him on how not to walk around with his phone out in public. There was some big commutation as a crowd came through pushing. I thought it was sheer rudeness and impatience, however, in retrospect, it was a method to their madness serving as a distraction to plunder phones. Needless to say, he was bummed. Some sleek thief lifted it right out his pocket. About 20 minutes later Gustavo said to another guy in our group, “make sure you keep your hand on your phone”. He said, “yup it’s right here”, but it wasn’t. His got taken also. At this point, we all were very very vigilant moving forward.

We decided we’d get “tickets” which in actuality was paying some guys to usher us into the sold-out space. They didn’t escort everyone in at once which I assume was not to arouse any suspicion with too large of a group. I’d say 10 maybe 15 minutes elapsed then it was our turn. Immediately after we entered our movement was halted on the stairs because it was so crowded. We didn’t know where the other members of our party were. Everyone was pushing and shoving as people attempted to go in opposing directions. A major obstacle was onlookers already seated not wanting people to pass. They were literally not allowing others to pass by or even go into the bleachers as if they’d lose something by us proceeding on. Arguments and yelling in sued all around us, including with some of our group. Craziness! At one point after standing in the same cramped spot for what seemed like forever, I thought, I might have to extricate myself soon as my attempts at remaining Zen was quickly eroding; I couldn’t control how I was poorly relating to the chaos. I kept seeing to myself, “it’s only bad if I think it’s bad”. Then hooray, we had access to continue on. I was at the tail end of our line, so I wasn’t sure how or what happened, but I was thankful we were moving. It was still extremely crowded though and as we propelled further it became increasingly difficult to maintain an eye on the people ahead of me. Before I knew it, my friend Hannah (Hannah’s from the UK and volunteering in Colombia via Domino Volunteers on another project. She’s fresh out of University and super cool) who was in the back with me and I had lost them. Just when things were looking up! I knew we’d find them eventually but with the immense crowd I wanted to avoid any unnecessary squeezing and pushing by going in the wrong direction. I went down behind the stands and walked parallel to the bleachers to see if I recognized anybody’s shoes or clothing. If possible, I wanted to pinpoint an exact destination. Luckily, Lisa had on a striped outfit that stood out so an exact destination we had.

It was like we reached the promised land. The rest of the party was there, and I quickly noted the spectators at this end of the bleachers were much more hospitable and thoughtful.

Now we could enjoy the parade. It was filled with elaborate costumes, dancing, MC’s on mics revving up the crowd and well-crafted floats. I didn’t know what each procession represented and wish they had signs so someone could translate each one for me. Ha! Actually, I can read Spanish much more effectively than I can hear it, so there’s a slight chance I could have made out a few.

A couple of the guys in the group befriended a Colombian family and had flour all over them. Apparently, it’s a tradition to fling flower all about. Is that a parade thing everywhere? I was unlucky to avoid this experience but maybe next time. Carnival felt very authentic and not touristy at all. (Of note: I’d like to amend an earlier post when I remarked Cartagena was not as touristy as other Latin cities I’ve visited. Scratch that, it’s touristy. Not in an obtrusive way but I’m thankful I’ve had the opportunity to engross myself in several less touristy areas.) The parade’s caravan appeared infinite. We kept thinking, okay let’s try to stay until it’s over, it should be concluding soon. We’d glimpse down the street to gaze on a slew of processions in queue progressing down the street. We had a swell time and stayed I’d say 3-4 hours….

The walk back to our hostel was entertaining, as the parade spectators flooded the streets and music filled the air, infusing the festive atmosphere. Vendors and homeowners littered the streets selling food and drinks. A few us stopped for some soup to dull the effects of all the beer consumed over the last few hours.

Back at the hostel we showered, rested and napped before we hit the streets. While at the hostel I expressed concern for two of our comrades MIA. It happened to be the two gents who lost their phones and they were properly waisted when we last saw them. With no phones and their condition, I wasn’t sure they’d be able to locate our hostel. Thankfully they found the hostel. Rauri told me he had a moment when he realized he didn’t have a phone, didn’t remember the hostel name and didn’t remember the way back. He asked Pat could he remember and initially he couldn’t. After a little time, he was able to remember the name or part of the name. That was all they needed along with the assistance of the family they befriended and Google Maps. Rauri expressed his appreciation for my concern while his real friends took naps. ha!

The First stop was a street party with an enormous line. A decision was made to leave there and head to another party where Mike (from the 40 years without electricity post) was. We realized there was a block party around the corner, so we checked it out. Awesome cultural experience to witness. At this point, I was pretty exhausted and headed in around 11-11:30. I hadn’t slept well the night before and I just can’t hang like I used to. Joe a New Zealander from our group already headed back when we left the first party, otherwise I would have felt more guilt about bailing. Great experience and shared it with a great group!

Have I referenced it’s hot here?! From all reports, it’s been a severely brutal winter back home. So I’m not complaining, really I’m not but I’m just saying it’s unforgivingly hot here. And get this, it’s the nippiest time on their calendar year.

Temperature and humidity wise I’d say it’s on somewhat similar to summer in DC with some noticeable deviations. Summer in DC may very well reach the high 90’s or hotter but it can also fluctuate to temperatures well below the average from time to time. Not to mention the rain and frightening thunderstorms during the summer. Wait, did I just write that out loud? Scratch that, thunderstorms don’t scare me. Let’s just the say I unquestionably despise them. Not in Cartagena though! No rain. Ever. This time of year. It’s high 80’s every day maybe 90. Which is something to cheer, no doubt. While it can feel so unforgiving at times is the lack of cloud cover. Fairly little if any clouds shield the city. Again, nothing to complain about but the consequence is a constant battering by the sun. Somedays it’s just like; Yo, sun can you lay up off me for just a second, please?!?!

Again, I’m not complaining, but I’m just saying….

And my room is always hot and humid unless I have the AC on which I don’t try to use all the time because: 1. Margaret is sensitive about the electric bill 2. I’m susceptible to catching a sinus cold which my sister and I both inherited from our father. (Which I’ve already been stricken by twice in attempts to stay cool at night) 3. I really don’t like the cold chilly air like that. I do have a fan that helps mucho. I’m certain a portion of if not all reading this consider the idea of not using the A/C blasphemy. lol

The nights are temperate with a steady breeze originating from the sea. Matter of fact one evening I was at a Spanish speaker corner on the rooftop of a restaurant; when I was noticeable chilly as I shamelessly attempted to cover my arms in useless attempt to warm and protect myself self from the wind.

All that said, I wouldn’t alter one thing about the weather here, especially in lieu of the winter back home. Sorry…

Remember in my last post regarding getting around in Colombia I said it was hazardous to be a pedestrian? Well, last night over dinner I learned (with a lot of effort and the assistance of google translate) Margaret, the Senora whom’s house I’m staying at, was struck by a car this past Monday. I was like WHAT?!?! From what I gathered it was a woman but thankfully Margaret wasn’t injured. She also said she didn’t fall to the ground either. It came up because they were asking me about God, religion etc. and I think she was saying God protected her, I think….

Come to think of it, I haven’t gone into detail on who I’m staying with. I’m living with Margaret a 53-year-old Colombian in her three-bedroom apartment.  My room is adequate and comfy. Also, living at Margaret’s is her 48 yr old cousin Guillermo. Their fathers are brothers. Neither really speaks English. Which is good for my Spanish. Guillermo knows some basic words and displays some interest in learning English. Like everyone here, Margaret speaks muy rapido and despite her knowing my Spanish is very limited, she continues to speak as if it’s my native tongue. lol My guess is, because I can express some thoughts, she mistakes that for interpreting more than I do. Also, occasionally I can deduce what she’s saying because of her gestures, facial expressions and recognizing a word or two; then that’s mistaken for comprehending most of it. Guillermo is separated from his wife with whom his he one six-year-old son, that has visited twice on the weekend. He has two older children, but I don’t know if it’s with his estranged wife or not. I don’t know how long he’s been living her nor for how long it’s planned. He’s a bit of wise guy. If we’re all home, we usually eat together with him frequently translating something inappropriate into English that Margaret doesn’t understand. He’s also constantly saying he wants to talk to Ruthie on the phone, how is Ruthie or something along those lines accompanied by a devilish grin. Literally ALL THE TIME AT EVERY MEAL!!! It’s all in fun, I think…. Muy comico is what I repeatedly call him.

Speaking of Spanish, despite having a good teacher, I’m disappointed my Spanish hasn’t advanced as much as I would have envisioned. One reason is, I didn’t get started taking Spanish lessons immediately. Another is they talk so darn fast here in Cartagena. Even fluent speakers complain how fast they talk aqui. The problem with that is I just can’t hear it when people talk. I can’t make out the words and if I do by the time I’ve processed that word they’re already four to five more words ahead if not on to an entirely new sentence. It’s very frustrating. I also don’t study as much as I ought to. I study but to progress at the pace I aspire to, it requires a higher frequency. I wish my housemates demonstrated more patience and interest in helping me. Guillermo does a little but no go with Margaret. I trust that would facilitate a tad more learning. My violin instructor knows some English but not completely fluent which is good. She understands my plight, I think. Talking with her is undoubtedly stimulating for my Spanish growth. I’ve imagined I’ve learned more than I realize

So yea, I’m taking violin classes while I’m aqui. I always had the notion and story I couldn’t play instruments; that I did have that “gene”, but I realized I never attempted to learn. I’ve pondered learning how to play the violin over the last year or so because I absolutely love its sound. I can’t accurately articulate into words the resonance I savor with some songs and tunes. Almost in the same way GoT and more specifically House Stark do (joke, kind of). So, I reckoned, let me learn how to play. With the extra free time and contrast in prices, Cartagena was a fitting time and place. My instructor name is Andreas. She’s pregnant with a boy and due at the end of the month.  She plays a multitude of instruments. The lessons are held in her casa just outside of Manga. I was commuting via taxi to class but following the first week, she offered to pick me up because she passes through Manga on her commute home for my lesson. An outstanding offer because it saves me $8.000 COP on a taxi, and I get to practice more Spanish in the car. Normally at her house is her daughter who helps translate sometimes and her amigo or novio. I’m not sure. My first class, she asked what kind of music do I like and I said everything. I then narrowed it down to Hov aka Jigga aka Jay-Z and Coldplay. She immediately played a tune to Clocks, one of Coldplay’s signature hits. The other day she played the opening to Game of Thrones (I saw Game of Thrones cards in her home one day and obviously made an obscure reference to my mild affinity toward the show and have since mentioned it once or twice) which was awesome! As I mentioned, I have ZERO instrumental experience. Not playing, not reading, nada. The other day I asked what’s the hardest instrument to learn and she said the violin. Great!

A few people have asked what am eating as most people know my eating habits are, let’s say unique. Thankfully, that’s never been a problem to any of the Latin countries I’ve visited. It’s always a lot of chicken, beef and maybe fish with rice, beans, potatoes for sides with a substantial amount of fruits always available. My only issue here in Cartagena has been the lack of vegetables. I’m fairly certain I haven’t been served one vegetable by Margaret nor any establishment I’ve visited. Well, I take that back. Some restaurants have served a small salad on the side, but I find salads particularly salad dressing repulsive so that doesn’t factor in for me. 🤷🏾‍♂️ To compensate, instead of buying the most favorable smoothie, I am purchasing more veggie-oriented smoothies. Subsequently, let’s just I’ve seen some improvements.

Aside from visiting Minca last weekend, I’ve mostly been focusing on the Spanish, violin and volunteering. Minca is a town right outside Santa Marta (four hours away) and known for its tropical rainforest and gorgeous landscape. I stayed at two hostels which were also a first time for me. It was a quick excursion; aside from beautiful views and stumbling across some uncompanioned horses on a hike to a waterfall, blissfully uneventful. Everyone I spoke with raved about how gorgeous Minca is, you have to visit Minca. It has some wonderful views and a very tranquil vibe. I did lose my second and last pair of sunglasses on the bus back.

As of now, I’m two weeks out from returning home and we’ll see what happens with that. Over the past week I’ve noticed I’m not homesick, but more people sick, however, I feel like another month here would be satisfying. Next weekend there is a huge carnival in Barranquilla (two hours north of Cartagena) and from what I’ve been told the second biggest carnival after Rio De Janeiro’s. My Spanish instructor Gustavo has arranged a group of approximately 15 people. After that, I’m off to Medellin for my last week in the country.

Never have I seen such a multitude of motorcycles in my life. They’re everywhere! Here, people just refer to them as Motos. Someone told me when their parents were visiting, their Dad was like, there are motorcycle gangs here hanging all about. Nope, it’s such a prevalent number of people riding around on motorcycles, he assumed it was moto gangs. Obviously, because of their relatively cheap price in comparison to cars their more economical but, their fixture in Cartagena culture is my assumption as to why such a plethora are on the road.

Another aspect of the culture is commuters using Motos as a mode of transportation. If you spot a Moto you’ll more than likely spot the driver with a second helmet wrapped around his arm; a clear sign he’s there to traffic someone to their desired destination. What I don’t know is, if people obtain motorcycles to utilize them as income or they happen to have a motorcycle, utilizing it for all it can provide. My guess is it’s a combination of the two. The price for Moto is $2.500-$3.000 COP. Far faster than buses; both cheaper and faster than taxis. I took a Moto only once to save some time and money. I think it was the first time I’ve ridden on a motorcycle ever. It was uneventful and disappointing because he dropped me off right outside Manga. I was unclear as to why because he was muttering something in Spanish and what a surprise, I had no clue as to what. I thought he was opposed out of personal preference but I later learned they’re not allowed in Manga. Who knew…? Definitely, a fairly unsafe mode of transportation here with the kind of driving occurring. (Update: When I originally drafted this, I had only ridden a Moto once. Today I took one for the second time because I was pressed for time after leaving mi clase de violin and needed to get to El Centro ASAP. I was meeting with a native Spanish speaker so we could practice her English and my Spanish with one another. Normally, I take the Transcribe (see below) after my class to El Centro but that nor a taxi would not have provided the expedited transportation needed. Nosotros llegamos allá  muy rápido).

Another major mode of transportation is the Transcribe buses. The only public transportation system. I was lucky to ride a Transcribe my second day here because I quickly learned they existed, how they operated and their usefulness. You enter the stop/station with a bus card via a turnstile. Each time a person enters the turnstile, $2.500 COP is deducted from your card. The Transcribes feel like a train to me. 1. Most of the stops aren’t the typical bus stops we are used to in the States. 2.  When riding, you don’t have a clear view of your surroundings nor bearings. At least that’s how I perceive it. 3. They have their own specified lane to maneuver around town. They’re very clean and the only con is how cramped I am during “rush hour”. Without a doubt the safest way to travel around in Cartagena. More on that later.

There’s another bus “system” for lack of a better word in town. Don’t know what they’re called. From my understanding, these buses are owned by something or someone with the drivers paying to drive the buses. They make their money back by how many commuters ride their route. These buses come in a variety of colors and shapes. They’re normally very crowded. It’s not unusually to see a guy standing out the door screaming stuff in Spanish while they periodically jump off to hustle people on the bus. I think they’re announcing the bus’s various stops. This is the sort of bus I take to La Boquilla for $2.300 COP minus the wrangler. The only time I’ve taken this bus type. They add to the chaos on the street but safe.

Next, are the taxis. Which like the motos they’re also ubiquitous.  You never e be waiting long for a taxi. Normally, a taxi ride is an easy $8.000 COP to wherever you’re going unless it’s a little further than normal. You can sometimes talk the driver down to $7.000 COP. One thing I’ve noticed is some drivers don’t have the skill to read maps. For instance, on a couple of occasions I’ve tried to show a taxi driver where I was going on Google Maps but based on our location which is pinpointed on the map and the arrow, they couldn’t ascertain where it was. They say something like, “Tu vas Bocagrande?” but the map is clearly pinpointing to another area entirely. I was like HUH?!?! Even I know that’s not correct. It would be like being in DuPont, looking at Google Maps and saying, you’re going to Georgetown but the map shows Columbia Heights. I assumed since everyone has a cell phone, they use maps and they’re a taxi driver for Pete’s sakes. Having this experience a few times I concluded some taxi drivers do n’t know how to read maps, but I also try not to be judgmental about it. Total different culture and learning system. Besides I’m the foreigner who can’t clearly speak their language to articulate where I need to go. The taxis are obviously safer than Motos but with the traffic and driving down here… could be safer.

When I don’t feel like walking back to Manga but don’t want to pay $8.000 COP for a private taxi jump in a Colectivo. Colectivos are shared taxis for four people heading to the same general area. Think of it as a less formal Uber Pool. Manga has a dedicated area in El Centro where the taxis lineup and shuttle people to Manga. The cost is $2.3000. I read in an article (translated from Spanish) this specific system from El Centro to Manga was configured for Manga residents because Manga lacks a bus route unlike other areas in Cartagena. The Colectivos have no designated drop off stop in Magna. When approaching to your destination, you tell the driver or like me, just say aqui.  To take a Colectivo from Manga to El Centro I just walk two blocks to Calle 26 (that’s street 26 for the non-Spanish speakers) and wave man hand to a passing taxi going in that direction. When one stops, I ask if he’s a Colectivo, if so, I can hop in and he’ll take me to El Centro for $2.300. Colectivos go to other areas but I’ve only done it for Magna. Safety: see the previous paragraph on taxis.

Finally, there’s walking. I can’t believe I’ve done so much walking over the last few weeks. El Centro isn’t too far and walking back from El Centro is something I’ve become accustomed to. It’s usually later when the suns went down, thereby, much cooler (obvi). Normally walking this much proves problematic because of my chronic knee condition, however, my therapeutic rehab exercises and special gels have helped make it a lot more manageable. I’m very thankful for this because it allows me to slow down, take more in and think. I also do a lot of walking in and around Magna. This morning I walked to the barbershop, which was a quick 15-20 minutes but took a ride with a guy who rides a bike and a carriage attached (yeah sorry can’t remember what those are called) for $2.3000 COP on the way back because I was pressed for time (and it was very hot). Walking is safe, so as long as you’re not around traffic. Scratch that. As long as you’re not anywhere near a car period.

Living in DC Proper for the live six and half years but more specifically Colombia Heights, not much adjustment was needed to get around. Essentially, it’s the same; Walking, Ubers/Taxis, Buses, and Metro (let’s call the Transcribe the Metro). I didn’t skip a beat. A few people I talked to said it took time to adapt to the commuting in Cartagena. The only difference for me is, it’s much hotter when walking and a more chaotic on the road.  

Speaking of which.  I’m very surprised I haven’t witnessed an accident on the road. Be it a car on car, car on motto, motto on bus or all of the above on a pedestrian. “The pedestrian has the ride away” is nonexistent here. You have to make your way. Taxis, mottos run red lights with abandon. Not all the time but a lot. I’ve been in a taxi a few times like, wait what?, he just ran the light like it was nothing. Sadly, I’ve almost become normalized to it. There just isn’t much order to the driving. A least not to my American eyes. There is persistent honking for sometimes I’m not sure what. A driver might honk for an infraction he himself, just committed prior or maybe immediately after hoking. You see this behavior at home but it’s allllll the time here … somethings just take getting used to and I’m trying. They just honk honk and honk….  But, I try to remember, it’s a different culture, with its set of indoctrinated unconscious habits, beliefs and reality. Just like ours!

On Tuesday’s and Thursday’s, I volunteer in La Boquilla, helping teach the Adult English Level 3 Class. La Boquilla is one of the poor zones in Cartagena and predominately an Afro-Colombian community. This particular class is in the Marlinda neighborhood of La Boquilla. CoraJeM, is the organization that established the English class along with a Level 1/2 class, a kids class, and other programs. Marlinda sits on the shore and is beautiful. It was once a destination for tourist but because of petty crime, the tourist has steered away from the area. Which in turn further hampered the community because tourist dollars had a hefty impact on the economy. The bus to Marlinda cost $2,300 COP. The bus drops us off right on the beach which makes a pleasant entrance to and from “work”.

Here’s an article and the foundation and its goals. https://www.deine-korrespondentin.de/englisch-fuer-eine-bessere-zukunft/

The Adult Level 3 Class has always been run by volunteers. The head teacher for the class is a school administrator from Denver, Lisa. She’s been in the role for approximately three months. There have been a few volunteers that come through periodically, but she’s mostly run the class alone. On my first day, three other volunteers (two from Brazil, one from Argentina) were also starting. They were placed on the project by another organization from their countries that encourages young adult volunteering. So, the class went from one teacher to five just like that.

I had mixed feelings about this. On one hand, it provides the students a lot more assistance but also divvies up the teaching time; reducing the amount of class-leading I can doo. Since part of being here is to stretch and challenge myself I welcome all the opportunities I can get. All in all, things have worked out well. A week ago, Sarah, a volunteer from London on the back end of a yearlong trip joined our group pushing the number of teachers to six (a couple of volunteers will be leaving soon and will be at four for the remainder of my stay).

There are seven regular students for the Adult English Class with the youngest student being 18. My guess is the oldest is maybe 25? But that’s just a guess. The regular students are Edward, Robinson, Adella, Francisco, Ruth, Angielene and Susanna. Ruth brings her toddler to class with her every day that serves as a pleasant distraction. Angielene is 21 and eight months pregnant. Edward is 18 and the star student. Being able to speak English in Cartagena is gold and pretty much assures someone a job. I’ve actually been surprised at how few people speak English here with it being such a touristed destination. The students come for the hope of a better life for the community and their families. I was talking to Edward once and he said, “I want to learn English so I can get a job because my family condition is not good”. When you hear a “kid” say that, in their strong accent, it tugs and inspires you at the same time. Edwards English is good. He just needs more practice speaking to gain more confidence. We’ve been encouraging him to come to the English Speaking Club Domino Volunteers offers on Tuesday and Thursdays. So, this past Tuesday he came and we treated him to dinner after.

When I first learned I’d be helping with English I wasn’t sure how that would work with my very limited Spanish and zero teaching experience. I was quickly told, the goal in class is to speak as much English as possible. There are times when instructions or word definitions need to be given in Spanish (not by me obviously), but for the most part, we only speak in English, very slowly and clearly.

The classes are designed to be fun. We incorporate a lot of games and songs that provide speaking, listening, and vocabulary recall with active participation. On the first day I found myself showing the students the Hokey Pokey. Quickly, I discovered I had to let it all go and have no shame. A game I introduced that everyone really enjoys is Hot Potato. We usually end the class with Hot Potato or a song as to close it on a high.

Two Wednesday’s ago, my amigos, Alex, Lisa and I decided to go to Tayrona National Park for two nights. It was closing for a month on January 28 and we didn’t want to miss out on the opportunity to visit, as we kept hearing how spectacular a place it was. 

The park is a protected rainforest on the Northern Coast of Colombia. It’s a five to six-hour bus ride from Cartagena. We opted for a private bus that sits about sixteen people as opposed to the bigger public buses. The cost isn’t much more while getting you there a little quicker with more comfortable sitting. We opted for the early bus with a 5am pickup.

Once we arrived at the park, we found ourselves being pitched one of three campsites. I’d done some reading on the various sites and the one he was selling was the one I was sure I didn’t want to stay at. There are a few camping sites in the park with Cabo San Juan being the biggest and most popular because it has a swimmable beach. We were being pitched Castillete, the smallest, quietest site perched on a non-swimmable a beach. He did say there was a swimmable beach that’s was a 15-minute walk away. In the end we decided to stay there the first night and trek to Cabo San Juan for our second night.

We arrived at Castillete and it looked smaller than I’d imagined. The tents on the beach were at a guesstimated 50 yards from the ocean. I haven’t camped in about 12 years and sleeping on the beach directly under the stars teased a new experience. I would be bunking with Alex. Thankfully, they provided an air mattress and pillows. Sand immediately found itself in our tent (which was my fault). At that point, I realized I’d have to except any perceived discomfort and embrace the conditions. This is why I’m here! The site and picturesque views offered a very tranquil and relaxed feel; helping to let go and appreciate the situation.

Upon getting settled and unpacked we headed off to the nearest swimmable beach. Turns out that 15-minute walk was more like 4 minutes give or take. At the beginning of our walk, I noticed a small structure with Jaguars painted all over it. Hmmm does that mean there are jaguars in the forest, I wondered?!?! Later during our hike on the main road, we heard a noise come from the forest little ways up the road. At first, I thought it was Alex’s stomach growling. Lol The perplexed look on his face told me something different. We all kind of looked at each and asked what was that? A cat or a monkey? I hadn’t heard about any Jaguar sightings or warnings and figured that’s a detail I would have heard about. Alex picked up a stick and I followed suit. Then my comrades both just continued walking… wait what? I was confused. IF that is a Jaguar, it sounds to be sending out a warning, so why are walking towards it? I wasn’t convinced it was a Jaguar but wasn’t convinced it wasn’t one either. We heard it again and we just kept walking. After about five to ten minutes we determined we were in the clear and disposed of the sticks. I held on to mine a little longer than Alex to err on the side of caution (later we learned it was a money making the noise. Jaguars are in the park but far from the campsites). We finally made it to the beach and did beach stuff. The waves were rough, and we couldn’t go out too far out but that didn’t dampen anything. Aside from the waves knocking off my sunglasses after I forgot I had them on, it was nice.

After we got back to the campsite we stopped for some beers at the sites “restaurant” and pretty much sat around talking the rest of the evening over dinner and beers. Per my norm, we were literally the last ones there long after the other campers left.  I was tired from the long day and welcomed sleep but also enjoyed the camaraderie. Before I entered the tent, I walked down to the water to gaze over the dark ocean with the almost full moon overhead. Infinite, powerful, peaceful, came to mind along with how massive the universe is and how utterly small we are in comparison.

I slept fairly well and felt rested upon awakening. One concern I had was how cold I might get overnight but it was actually very warm inside the tent. First thing I needed to do was take a shower. I hadn’t bathed the whole day and after being in the ocean, I felt it a necessity. We forwent breakfast and made our way to Cabo Saun Juan; a two hours walk away. I was not looking forward to the walk. I enjoy hiking as an activity but not so much when it’s my mode of transportation for the activity. If for the only reason sustained walking causes me knee and back pain. Not to mention I was hauling around a duffle bag. They offered horses to the next site which Lisa and I preferred to take. Alex wanted to hike. We agreed to walk and take horses on the way back, but we’d have our bags transported by a horse. There was no way I was walking with my bag.

The hike was cool. We got to see much more of the park. Alex keeps a very very steady pace! I’m not a fast walker and the rapid pace exacerbates my knee symptoms once discomfort sets in. I decided I’d just keep my own pace as it also offered a chance to better take in the surroundings.

We made it to the Cabo Saun Juan! I was definitely in some pain but applied some special gels to my back and knees that quickly soothed my aches. As advertised this campsite was much bigger and more populated. Unlike the previous campsite, the tents are far off the beach. We got our tents, unpacked and needed food since we bypassed breakfast. After eating, it was time to head to the beach. There was a beach on our site, but Alex wanted to go to a beach we passed on our trek about twenty minutes away. Another twenty-minute walk was not something I wanted to do after walking for two hours. Lisa and I wanted to stay but decided to be accommodating, again. We made it to the new beach and did beach stuff. It was cool. Nothing eventful happened. Enjoyed the sand, ocean, and sun. We went back to the campsite to walk around and check out the cabin house (not sure what it’s called) atop some boulders to observe the views.

Alex decided to recon a beach he saw while we were up there. He came back excited with what he discovered, and we now knew what beach we’d visit the next day.  The night was pretty much a repeat of the previous night. Just more people around.

Our last day we did more beach stuff most of the day. Alex’s beach discovery was close, and we headed there after breakfast. It was colder than I like. Probably because it was still relatively early not having the chance to be warmed by the sun. We ate lunch. Then a little more beach before we left. One cool thing was a crocodile sitting. I knew crocodiles lived in the park because when I googled the park this video came up https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=YnW_nmCtV4o. (Reviewing the video again I believe this is the beach we walked to on the first day) There was lagoon parallel to the beach that appeared prime for crocodile habitation. I later eyeballed a sign warning of just that. While in the ocean I saw a host of people gathered around the lagoon and presumed it was a croc catching their attention. I quickly ran over to see my assumption was correct. Cool thing to see in the wild.

It was time to depart the park. I think Alex would’ve preferred to walk again but as agreed we were taking horses. I don’t think I ever rode a horse before (maybe a pony as a child). I had some aspirations to learn how to ride properly but never a strong desire to ride for a stroll. They’re kind of intimidating. When I heard horses were an option as opposed to a two-hour walk, I said to myself right then, “Oh, I’m riding the horse.” I’ve been doing A LOT of walking and just seemed like the rational logic thing to do despite my past reservations.

The ride was interesting. I expected some instructions from the guide, but we got none. I climbed the horse, we posed for a photo and after a minute it just started walking without the guide. He was doing other things.  I immediately thought the horse was out of control and this could possibly be problematic. “AMIGO AMIGO”, I yelled to a guide to alert to the situation but he just sort of acted like nothing was wrong. Where was urgency as this is obviously not okay I wondered? Later, I realized the horse has done this march countless times. It knew what to do without guidance. He seemed a leader horse as we were in front of the entire trip. Twice Alex’s horse got ahead of us and my horse seemed to deliberately take the lead. Every step and turn it took was absent of any direction from the guide. It was quite an interesting observation of the horse’s awareness and smarts. A few times I lost balance when he trotted faster because the path opened up and he keenly knew to stop, allowing me to get repositioned. He navigated narrow sections of the path with predetermined steps, ensuring nothing scrapped the rocks on either side; most impressively my feet as they dangled about in the stirrups. As I witnessed the horse intelligence and duty, I felt bad because I was aiding in its exploitation. Maybe I’m wrong but from what I gather this is the horse’s daily routine, all day every day. Slogging people and their stuff around. Not exactly it’s the best life! I tried to show some small appreciation to the horse after the hour journey concluded. Something I didn’t learn until the next day was our guide went off for lunch for a bit during the journey. I had no clue and glad I didn’t know at the time. Ignorance is bliss!

Domino Volunteers places volunteers in a homestay with a person/family for a true immersion experience. My homestay is in Magna.

Manga is considered a middle to upper-middle-class neighborhood. Upon first impression, I’m sure that’s not what you’d think, however, subsequently visiting other parts of the Cartagena, I realize it is very much that. It’s an island connected to the rest of the city by four bridges. If I walked fast (which I don’t) I could be across the bridge into this historic city center in roughly 15 minutes.

I live in an eleven-story apartment building on the second block after crossing the bridge from the historic city center. I’m a stone through away from the bay and pier, where people exercise and run in the morning and hang out at night. There’s a doorman/security in the lobby of the building 24-7.  Very safe place.

Manga is big and I haven’t explored nearly enough of it. There’s not a ton of tourist in Manga. Some including my mate Alex but definitely not a huge population of tourist. I normally spot a few at the grocery store and walking along the street. As I mentioned in a previous post, my impression is the majority of Manga lacks the diversity I see around other parts of the city. I see less of the black Colombians here. I think most people take me for Colombian until I have to speak or maybe my clothes give me away. On several occasions, someone has the OOHHHH face after I try to speak or say, “no entiendo”. There’s a grocery store that’s a 5-10-minute walk for any necessities. My first night here I stumbled across a cool food truck area I ate at.  Haven’t made it back yet but I will soon.  There’s a small handful of restaurants I’ve seen out but have yet to frequent. Also, a few smoothie spots I plan to visit ASAP. IJS…

One concern I had prior to my trip was where do I get my hair cut. Knowing Cartagena was heavily populated by Afro-Colombians, I assumed I should be able to locate a barbershop with experience cutting black hair. Finding one was easy. I typed barbershop in google maps and one popped up in Magna not too far away. Next, I was worried about communicating how I wanted my hair cut. I had Ruthie take a picture of my haircut the day prior to my departure which came in handy. Luckily the barber knew a little English and was really cool. I asked him did he see a lot of Gringos come in and he replied they don’t (not surprising). One of the best haircuts I’ve had. It was quick and cheap $20,000 COP (you do the math) which included a beard shape-up and trim.

Aside from the safety what I like most about Magna and particularly where I’m living is its vicinity to the water. I have a fair view of the bay, docked boats and boats out for leisurely fun. Strangely, I haven’t hung out on the pier yet. Another activity on my to-do list.

I haven’t dived since I obtained my open water certification two years and a half years ago. With that being the case, something I really looking forward to doing during my time in Cartagena was going SCUBA diving. Ultimately, that’s how I landed in Cartagena as opposed to another city. One of the volunteering opportunities I was interested in was finding a SCUBA diving project assisting in a conservation effort. I found one in Cartagena but after contacting the organization I learned they were no longer running that program. I decided to search for any other similar programs and that’s where I stumbled upon Domino Volunteer’s website. Their website touched on some diving opportunities with them. I hadn’t seen their information on any other resource but as I examined their site I was really intrigued. I don’t think I looked back after I delved into their profile and contacted them.

While they didn’t offer the sort of SCUBA project I was looking for, I figured staying in Cartagena would still offer me the opportunity to dive. Especially since Christina, Dominoes principal and her husband Jota own a dive shop. Upon arriving Christina and I briefly discussed me diving, leaving it at, we’ll figure out at some point during my stay.

My mate Alex and I were talking over a few beers last Saturday night when he mentioned he was planning to go diving that Monday. I’m immediately said, I was in! He’d made some tentative plans he’d finalize the next day and let me know the exact pricing etc. He got with me sometime Sunday, everything checked, and I sent my info to the dive shop the same day. We were booked for diving with a meet up at 8:00 am. Turns out it was via Christina and her husband’s dive shop which I learned when I was calling the dive operator to discover his number was already on the phone they provided me. Immediately I knew who it was. A slight familiarity helped with my anxiety.  

Along with us on the excursion was a guy from Boston who I think was accompanied with his daughter and guy from Georgia with his pregnant girlfriend. The woman wasn’t diving but the not pregnant woman did go out with us on the boat to snorkel. Everyone had more diving experience than me which isn’t surprising since I only had certification experience, although, none had dived recently. The guy from Georgia dove most recently which was two years ago. Alex hadn’t in about 4 years.

Needless to say, I was a little nervous if for the only reason I had kind of forgotten a lot which is potentially problematic participating is in a life-threatening activity. Okay that’s being dramatic, but you get what I’m saying; there’s a necessity for safety. Misery loves company, so sort of relished in that fact everyone was a little nervous. Except maybe the Georgia guy. 

While nervous I was also calm if that makes sense. My mentality was sort of, it is what it, just gotta do it, I want to do it, let’s go. It was unusually rough and windy this day causing us to bypass the first intended dive site in hopes of returning later. We made it to the second site. I was the second to go into the water. Put on my gear, which I sort of forgot how to do and propelled myself backwards into the water. It took me a few seconds to remember the feeling of floating around with the tank and other gear on. Also, I had to quickly get used to breathing with a regulator which I practiced before going under. After a few minutes, I was good. Now I waited for the other divers to enter the water.

For those unfamiliar, two of the trickiest aspects of diving are the descent and ascent. Because our bodies need a little time to get accumulated to the pressure the deeper you go, it’s important to descend slowly and vice versa when ascending. This is what I had me concerned the most because as I mentioned, I forgot how exactly. I mean it sounds simple enough, just go down slowly stopping periodically and go up slowly stopping periodically. You might feel pressure in your ears similar to the experience when flying, whereby, you squeeze your nose and blow to relieve the pressure. As simple as it sounds there’s a rhythm to it and couldn’t really remember the feeling. Well… it pretty much came back immediately. The instructors didn’t really give any instructions and just got us going which in retrospect was good. Gave me less time to think and just do.  I descended fine. Once we got to our diving depth we were on our way. Another tricky skill of diving is maintaining proper buoyancy. Basically, keeping yourself steady and balanced as you slowly move about.  It’s affected by your weight, how much weight your caring (I was wearing an 8 lb. weight belt), how inflated your BCU is and very important, your breathing. The pace of your breath and how much air you’re caring in your lungs is vital to proper buoyancy. It took me some time to recall how important my breathing was and how to do it correctly. It didn’t ruin the experience nor cause problems, but I just wanted to nail it correctly. Our first dive was for approx. 45 minutes and went about 35 feet deep. Deepest I’ve gone. It was Awesome!

Based on our last depth and time under we had to limit our depth and time under on the next dive. That’s determined by how much water pressure you’re exposed to and a complicated a math formula I’m thankful we didn’t have to do because have no clue how to do it. I learned it during my open water certification training but if you went 2.5 years of not using a complicated math formula after you barely learned it, you’d be clueless too.

We headed to the second dive which was a shipwreck site. It was too rough there, so we headed to another site. Everything looked good. We geared up and took the plunge a second time. We started our descent. It was murky and visibility wasn’t the best, but I was more concerned with descending properly. I felt the pressure in my ears quicker than I expected especially since we weren’t going as deep. I ascended back up a bit to get better accumulated to the pressure as I squeezed my nose and blew until my ears popped. Descended some more but had the same problem. I wasn’t concerned I just remained aware and followed the proper techniques. Everyone was doing the same. After a few minutes, the guy from Georgia swam over to me pointing to my depth meter. I looked and it said 70 feet! That’s DEEP! My first thought was why are we this deep because we’d been told we wouldn’t be going more than 15-20 feet. Then I thought, this is COOL!  It was the first time diving I couldn’t see the bottom while the surface seemed aways away. I was just suspended in the middle of the water like I’ve seen in so many pictures.  I stuck my arms and legs out as if I was floating in space. The stillness and serenity at that moment I won’t soon forget. It didn’t last long. We soon realized we couldn’t find Alex. YIKES! Everyone else was in eyesight of one another. We all kind looked around while maintaining our position, but it was pretty murky skewing visibility. I saw one of the other instructors go look for him and he was soon out of sight. The second instructor soon called the dive and told us to ascend up.  We get to the surface and I still don’t see Alex. After a few minutes, I spot him far off with the other instructor. That was great BUT now we couldn’t find the boat. Because of the distance and the waves, we couldn’t see it. The instructor was like where did the boat go as he head swiveled around searching. Why did it leave? Was it because the water got too rough? Turns out the boat was where it was when we disembarked. It was anchored. We moved that far off because of an underwater current that pushed us away and down or something like that. This powerful current in addition to the poor visibility is what caused Alex to go out of site. I’m not sure how much time elapsed but the boat spotted us (the instructor had a floating device for aide in situations like this) and picked us up. The boat first went to retrieve Alex and the other instructor. I found myself being pushed away from the other divers and instructor because of the strong currents as I rolled over the waves. It was majestic.

They apologized for the second dive not panning out and offered a 30% discount. Very generous especially considering I had a blast.  I probably not painting a good picture of diving, but I want to say I NEVER once felt in danger or unsafe, not once. It sounds more periling than it was and the land was always in eyesight. Diving is awesome and recommends it for anyone considering it. I found the whole experience great and one I can learn from. Looking forward to diving again during my stay.  

Today will mark the longest I’ve been outside of the DC metropolitan for more than two weeks. Heck even living in DC Proper (that always makes me laugh) for the past 6 years I don’t think I’ve failed to cross the Maryland line for longer than two weeks, but maybe. In the weeks preluding my trip I realized something I hadn’t quite thought about; my trip through Costa Rica this time last year was the longest I’ve been outside the DC area let alone the country in my lifetime. Which was one of the impetuses for plan to skip out for 2 months. Just to live somewhere else even it’s just for two months.

So far, the experience has been exciting and challenging (in a good way). I’ve made a couple a “friends”; Alex, a bloke from Liverpool, England and Lisa a teacher from the U.S. whom I’m volunteering with. We all just returned from a three-day visit to TAyrona National Park. The volunteering in La Boqullia is fun and very new. I’ve only volunteered in Olaya once as this Friday no new activities were planned but I’m looking forward to returning next Friday.

One thing I had to get adjusted to is the cost of everything. The conversion is roughly $3,000 COP to $1 USD. Say something cost say $12,000 COP that’s approx. $4 USD I’m spending. I had a daily budget I wanted to stick to as best I could. With everything being much cheaper compared to U.S. prices, I quickly had the mindset of, well if it’s so much cheaper I’ll just buy it or do it. For example, a cab ride is roughly $2.50 in dollars compared to the Uber and Taxi prices in DC. So I was like well I’ll just take a cab everywhere as opposed to walking $20-$30 minutes, what’s $2.50… I’m walking a lot more! Same thing with food. I’m attempting to making adjustments there as well. Haven’t been as capable.

Only negatives thus far have been; giving a cab driver $50,000 COP when I thought I was giving him $5,000; not realizing I was given $30,000 COP less in change than I was supposed to after purchasing some socks; almost losing my camera but luckily the driver found it in the car and losing my sunglasses due to some strong waves while in Teryona National Park. Oh, yea I got seriously profiled in a small convenient store. Tuesday night I walked in to purchase some water and snacks for my 5-6 hour bus ride to TAyrona. When I walked in two employees standing close to the door kind of looked at me funny and the guy asked me something in Spanish a couple of times I didn’t understand. I responded with, “no entiendo” a few times before he said, just looking? I said yes, always trying to see the positive I thought, hmmm perhaps they could tell I was American and just wanted to help but their facial expressions didn’t really convey that. Anyways, I eyed the water, grabbed two bottles and went looking for snacks still feeling a little put off by how I perceived their reception. Again, this store is very small maybe the quarter the size of a 7 eleven. I walked down the aisle turned around to see the same women sort of following and staring at me. She quickly turned around after I noticed her. WHAT THE…?!?! I thought. Firstly, she was terrible at it. I actually said to myself, you can do better than that. But now I was kinda pissed and surprised. I was about to walk out but thought nah let me get my stuff and go. Looked a lil more and saw her eyeing me again… I said in English is there a problem? Then quickly let ago as 1. She probably couldn’t understand (but I’m sure my face said it all) and 2. They’re ones with the problem and tried not to let it affect me. The cash register was pleasant though… 🙂  I was surprised because while the neighborhood I’m Manga (more on that in a bit) has more Colombians with a lighter complexion than the rest of the city. It’s definitely not void of the more brown-skinned Colombians. Cartagena as a whole is predominantly brown skinned. It’s actually just a mix of people who just like blended all kind of ways. Some look just like a black person from the U.S, some more indigenous, some more of what is the stereotypical Latino appearance and A LOT just mixed with all three.

I doubt it but maybe it was a just a cultural difference or because they could tell I was American…  Don’t want to give anyone the impression this is how it is in Cartagena or even Manga. Just an interesting experience I was surprised happened here.

As today marks the longest I’ve been away, I’m curious if I’ll notice a shift or alteration to my experience thus far. The only thing I really miss from home is you all, protein bars and not having more chicken during my home meals.  So far so good…