¡Que Carajo!

As I had updated most of you a while back, I am in Colombia to shoot a series of documentaries.

Turns out that some of our equiptment was stolen at the bus terminal in Bogota, while we were on our way to Medellin; therefore I can no longer continue with my plans for the time being.

Despite this little misfortune, we were nonetheless, blessed enough to take-in the marvelous panorama during our 9 hour zig-zag roller coaster ride through Andes!
I had seen it all before, but for some reason, everytime I see it, it´s like a surprise!
I was taken aback by each picturesque ¨paisaje¨, to every ¨paisano.¨ (country man).
From the humming of the mom to her baby, to the joyous man who’d spontaneously break-out in song and dance..

As we passed ¨pueblitos¨ I spotted children, although, clothes ripped and stained (and not conforming to the latest fashions of ¨bebe¨ and ¨versace¨, ¨Nike¨), they were still holding hands as they skipped and danced. Four generations of families lounging in their patios getting a kick out of watching traffic zooming past.

As we arrived at our terminal in Medellin, my ¨primo¨ Andres waived back at us with open arms. Unfortunately, he didn´t get the same response from me, as my reply was ¨Andres nos robaron.¨ (Andres, we were robbed). My chin wrinkled in disappointment.
All of a sudden, I wasn´t so much worried about the value of what was stolen, but instead of the images that I was there to capture. The images of my beautiful people, my country, my food, the festivities, the vibrant colors, the joyous sounds, the excitement, the loud music, the emotions, the LIFE that is breathed here.
All these images rolled through my head like old film on a projector. I wouldn´t be able to capture as planned….

But that´s just the American in me coming out. Me being a little baby because I didn´t get what I wanted.

So… So what? I got robbed. I can´t continue with my plans. Oh well. There´s a reason behind it, and maybe God has something better for me.

My mom has always raised me telling me ¨Todo en la vida tiene solucion excepto la muerte¨ In other words, everything in life has a solution, except death.

How would she and I know? Maybe because we´ve both been so close to death that we appreciate life.

As most of you know, I left Colombia during the époque of Pablo Escobar (90´s). I lost my biological Dad, I lost my ¨tio¨ ( my favorite uncle in the world). People were out to kill my mom. In fact, I almost lost her, my mom, the person most precious to me, I almost lost her…various times.
Finally, enough was enough the moment we were kidnapped in a taxi when I was only five years old. Our kidnapper jammed his revolver against my head and swore to shoot me if we tried to escape.

After living these things, I´m just numb to anything else. I can care less who has more and who has less, who talks bad about me, and who is fake, etc.

So why do I still love this country? From all the ¨gringos´ that I´ve brough to visit, they´ve all said the same thing. That they can´t help but love it and they want to come back. These Americans are definitely risk-takers and mythbreakers, because everything that I just told you that happened to me when I was little, or the terrors that you hear on TV are no longer true. Thank God. And I´m just glad they´ve been able to experience it for themselves.

So why do I still love this country?
Because I´m proud of it.
Medellin went from being the most dangerous city in the world, to one of the safest cities in Latin America!

So why do I still love this country?
Perhaps it´s the silly sounds of the parrots as they ¨cawk¨ at me ¨rise and shine princessa¨ …or…perhaps…
It´s the wild rays of the sun kissing my face, each ray reassuring me that despite any doubts or insecurities, or sadness…life still goes on…and my family is waiting right outside my door…ALWAYS with smiles, jokes, and open arms.

So why do I still love this country?
Maybe it´s the folkloric sounds and vibrant colors, as people move in unison, never looking back at their misfortunes but ¨luchando¨ to be as happy as they can be.
It´s these people that remind me that when one door closes, there´s always another one that opens.

So why do I still love this contry?
Maybe because everytime Jorge Celedon´s ¨Que Bonita es esta Vida¨ is blasted, people spill all their emotions, not holding back any feelings, they shout in harmony ¨ay…ay… ay… ay… que bonita esta vida. Aunque aveces duela tanto, y apesar de los pesares siempre hay alguien que nos quiere siempre alguien que nos cuide¨
( what a beautiful life this is, even though sometimes it hurts, and despite any misfortunes, there is always someone there who loves us, someone that takes care of us.¨)

…And as I was eating lunch today, I sat next to an 8 year old boy who was selling lollipops. He only had a few limbs:
one leg,
one arm,
two fingers.

He helped me come to my conclusion as to why I love this country.

I bought a Jolly Rancher from him because despite his impairment he was jolly as could be.
He flashed me the biggest smile I had ever seen. Two precious little dimples adorned each cheek. He then hopped back to work on one foot, balancing his candy box between his thumb and cheek.
As he approached the door he looked back at me one last time and shined a smile before his sweet face vanished into the rain.