It was just over two years ago that I was sitting in the Vancouver airport, waiting to embark on my unknown adventure. Now, here I am in Vancouver again, waiting to go back to the Yukon. And just like before, I have so much to be thankful for. My fellow Seeders, my friends and family back home, and of course, Mampuján.
Thank you for loving me, even when I didn’t recognize your actions as love: for greeting me on the street, for trusting me to walk with you, for making me eat your food and drink pink pop, for not being embarrassed to make me get up at five in the morning to help you write an email, for laughing at me for only buying tomatoes, onions and eggs at the store, for trying to make me do your English homework for you, for defending me when I needed it, and for crying when I left.
I am still the same person, yet completely different. All of my cells have renewed themselves at least fifty times, I’m sure. My hair is long and blond. I have new scars, both physically and mentally. My shirt has small holes from where a mouse ate it. I don’t believe in much that I can easily define anymore, like easy answers, but I do believe in questions. I don’t believe in heroes but in a world filled with 8 billion human beings living out their lives. I believe in the courage of ordinary things, of cooking, of farming, of sitting on the street all day and gossiping. I believe that everyone has a story, but some I will never ever understand or even hear. Oddly enough, this probably makes me both more cynical and more optimistic. Because I too have a story and a context and a history and I am also just one of 8 billion people trying to thrive on this planet we call earth.
And right now, I am just a human being with culture shock. This place that used to be so normal is crazy! Everyone has smart phones and speaks English and the toilet paper actually goes in a toilet. On CNN in Houston, the top news story was on the dangerous of walking and texting. Moral of the story- don’t or you could fall into the ocean. I don’t know how to respond to anyone, because I am used to greetings and thank-yous and ordering in Spanish. English seems strange. I am also used to feeling people watching me more, because in Colombia I stand out. It is going to be hard to get used to looking like everyone else again. Although, the migration officer was from the Colombia coast and wanted to know my opinion of yuca and suero, which made me feel right at home (in my Colombian home). Plus, when did coffee sizes get so darn large?!
The best solution: time in the Yukon and BC with family and friends. I am going to relax, eat cheese, put the toilet paper in the toilet, and enjoy the next phase of this fabulous adventure called life! I had some sushi and saw a Mountie so I must be on the right track…