I've been in Colombia 10 months and have failed miserable at maintaining this blog. Largly because I am too busy enjoying my life in Colombia to stop and take the time to write about my life in Colombia. God has opened so many doors and each day is truly a new adventure. I have ridden in brightly painted Indian buses and taken the Millenium bus in Bogota packed like a sardine pressed up against Jorge so tight I could barely breath. I've hitched rides , rode in jeeps packed with people and livestock, and I've walked far more than I ever thought I would up mountains, down hills, going places I had no idea existed. We have lived in cities and on the farm. I have definitely stepped far outside my comfort zone and experienced life in ways I never dreamed possible. So far, its been a fantastic ride with my hubby by my side and I am lovin every minute of my life in Colombia.
In America, speaking English is nothing out of the ordinary, being pale skinned and red-headed is boring, having a degree to teach English means you are undervalued, unapreciated and most likely unemployed with the state of the American Education System the way it is right now. In Colombia I am a hot ticket, young girls admire my pale skin and I turn way more heads on men then I ever did in America. Everywhere we go people openly stare and listen to hear me and Jorge speak. In Piendamo the small town by the farm where we lived for awhile I hear la gringa as I pass people. Heck I am almost famous here in Colombia for nothing more than being pale skinned and talking in my native language.
Now we are living in Popayan, the white city and every day we discover something new or see something old in a new way. Each night Jorge and I walk the streets admiring the old buildings, discovering a new place for dinner, or a new friend. Popayan is very beautiful and has a history dating back to the 1500's. I visit old houses and imagine young girls on the balconies being seranaded by young boys. They still have horse drawn carts working the city and so you hear the pounding of hoofs in the streets and it is easy to imagine how it must have been for the first settlers. One night, |Jorge and I stopped at a pretty gate to take a picture. The building turned out to be a hotel and a bus boy named Henry invited us in, gave us a tour and history of the house and showed us some rooms. We enjoyed dinner in a quiet restaurant all to ourselves and at the end of the night he said I can tell you are nice people and gave us each a Gideon New Testament in English and Spanish. A few days later church members from Piendamo arrived to enjoy a church conference and Henry our guide from before came through with an even more extended tour that ended in free desert of sweet cocnut and more bibles. God is good and blessing us every day with a new adventure.
In America, speaking English is nothing out of the ordinary, being pale skinned and red-headed is boring, having a degree to teach English means you are undervalued, unapreciated and most likely unemployed with the state of the American Education System the way it is right now. In Colombia I am a hot ticket, young girls admire my pale skin and I turn way more heads on men then I ever did in America. Everywhere we go people openly stare and listen to hear me and Jorge speak. In Piendamo the small town by the farm where we lived for awhile I hear la gringa as I pass people. Heck I am almost famous here in Colombia for nothing more than being pale skinned and talking in my native language.
Now we are living in Popayan, the white city and every day we discover something new or see something old in a new way. Each night Jorge and I walk the streets admiring the old buildings, discovering a new place for dinner, or a new friend. Popayan is very beautiful and has a history dating back to the 1500's. I visit old houses and imagine young girls on the balconies being seranaded by young boys. They still have horse drawn carts working the city and so you hear the pounding of hoofs in the streets and it is easy to imagine how it must have been for the first settlers. One night, |Jorge and I stopped at a pretty gate to take a picture. The building turned out to be a hotel and a bus boy named Henry invited us in, gave us a tour and history of the house and showed us some rooms. We enjoyed dinner in a quiet restaurant all to ourselves and at the end of the night he said I can tell you are nice people and gave us each a Gideon New Testament in English and Spanish. A few days later church members from Piendamo arrived to enjoy a church conference and Henry our guide from before came through with an even more extended tour that ended in free desert of sweet cocnut and more bibles. God is good and blessing us every day with a new adventure.
