Life from Canada to Latin America, one word at a time.
As you prepare your breakfast, think of others (do not forget the pigeon’s food). As you wage your wars, think of others (do not forget those who seek peace). As you pay your water bill, think of others (those who are nursed by clouds). As you return home, to your home, think of others (do
Last night was my fourth Noche de las Velitas (Night of the Little Candles). Lighting candles to welcome Mary on her journey to Bethlehem, and thus officially starting the Christmas season, is one of my favourite Colombian traditions. My first Noche de las Velitas, after living in Mampujan for two months, was completely new to
I always resort to cliques when I am asked the question of what I like most about Colombia. I can’t help it because it is true. Whether a taxi driver, a coworker or someone from Canada asks, the answer is always the same: people. I do not mean this in any sort of romantic, nostalgic,
Last night, I introduced two of my Colombian colleagues to poutine. A new restaurant, the first of its kind in Colombia to offer deep fried potato and cheese goodness is open on Calle 13 with 5. The poutine was, including the bloated feeling afterwards, just like I remembered it. It is not often that I
During the day, I love my neighbourhood. Everyday, I giggle at the dogs that look like their owners and keep my eyes open for lucky nuns. I sit in quaint cafes and drink coffee. I have picnics on the grass while my skin burns in the Andean sun. Like many urban centres worldwide, however, after
I caused a motorcycle accident last weekend. At that point, it felt pretty normal. I had been back on the coast for four days, officially to co-facilitate a workshop on documentation and political advocacy, and unofficially to remember what I had forgotten about life on the Caribbean. I started to feel at home as soon
A year ago, I officially moved to the city and started my new job. A year ago, Jorge Montes was arrested. A year ago, I met Jhonatan Vargas on a quick work trip to Barrancabermeja. A year ago, I visited the Canadian embassy and wrote letters to try to resolve our visa situation. Many things
I may be close to admitting that I have a problem. This morning, I choose the carrot juice over the orange from the street vender on my way to work. The reason had nothing to do with vitamin C content and everything to do with combination. Simply, the brilliant colour of the carrot matched my
“Even the dogs are fatter here!” exclaimed a member of a delegation over the weekend as we walked down the Parkway, my neighbourhood. We had just returned from visiting a couple of projects in Soacha, a municipality to the south of the city. Skinny, flea-covered dogs run wild everywhere in a community made up mainly of
The Septima is one of my favourite places in Bogota. Every Sunday, the street down to the centre comes alive with performers, vendors, llamas and even guinea pigs. The excitement is quadrupled when seen through the eyes of Costeños, however. A group of youth leaders from the Alta Moñtana came to the city for the
Anna L. Vogt 