WEEK 19
LOOKING FOR AMERICA - THROUGH THE EYES OF COLOMBIA
Friday, February 27, 2026
Sometimes life gets complicated. During my time in Colombia in January, I had written my entries for the second week we were there, but they never got posted. I didn’t have the time or energy to find the photos and do the final edits in preparation to post. I pocketed a little round-to-it. This seemingly small, innocuous thing took on a life of its own. The more we did, the busier I got, the heavier this little thing became. A week went by. A few more days. It was time to fly back to Chicago. Thirty minutes out from O’Hare I started sneezing and my nose began to run. My days with my grandkids, my daughter, and my son-in-law were spent with me convalescing and, unfortunately, contaminating their home. (They all caught it!)
Five days later I landed in Minneapolis in the midst of the coldest week of the season (temps were WAY below zero!) and the presence of ICE. The energy was heavy with grief and confusion and shock. Then came the call to stand with our neighbors and the rising tide of courage and love. It was amazing to witness!
After a few days, I headed up to my hometown, Duluth, to care for family. Two weeks later, I was on a plane to Phoenix to catch up with my husband and friends. I was exhausted, sick, and completely unmotivated to try to catch up on a month’s worth of stories.
Three weeks later, I am myself again. I love where we are. My energy is back. I pulled up my drafts from that second week in Colombia. It was suggested that I not go back… just start here and now. But these are some of the best stories! I’m going back, sharing some of the highlights. In a few days, I’ll be back in the here and now.
My thanks to those of you who let me know you were missing my blog posts. 😊
Monday, January 5, 2025
It is two days into the news of the United States having launched a military strike on Venezuela, capturing incumbent Venezuelan president Nicolás Maduro and his wife, Cilia Flores. It is the foremost topic of conversation here. In part, because with my family here for the wedding, there are many Americans among us. But also, because the Colombians are nervous and upset. There are protests happening here. There is a heaviness despite the celebration we are preparing for as my nephew’s wedding approaches. I am experiencing firsthand the negative ripple effect of my country’s behavior on the larger world.
The good news of the day, though, is another birthday. My younger brother David’s 60th. Although he has already had two free birthday desserts because of my husband’s birthday on January 2nd, today is his day. We went for breakfast. Then we were going to plan a fun place to go, but instead we discovered his water heater had broken and leaked everywhere, so his day got hijacked. We were transferred to my brother Dan’s home, while Brother David and his partner spent the day dealing with the rental agent, the apartment owner, and the water heater company. In the end, they decided to look for a new apartment.
But, never to let any occasion for a party pass, the Colombian side of the family made plans for a fabulous dinner celebration at the Brew Pub Rooftop Restaurant, located on the 11th floor of a building overlooking the city. Music, dancing, good food, and drink. I am continually delighted and impressed with the joy with which Colombians embrace life. Their dancing is always accompanied by singing if they know the words, and they often do. It was a grand time, and the last good day my husband David was to have for the rest of the week.
Tuesday, January 6 & 7, 2025
Waking up at my brother Dan’s house I smell breakfast cooking. I hear birds chirping. I feel the sun warming the room.
He lives in a beautiful home of wood and white plaster siding and a red tile roof surrounded by gardens. It is situated on the side of a hill upon which this gated community, along with several apartment buildings, is located. Bogota is in the Andes mountains, so saying “hill” is relative.
Coming downstairs, first I pass the room where they are storing the “Nut People” made for the wedding.
For centuries, a small people born from leftover seeds without a home have existed. Seeds of cedar, oak, and other trees that fell to the ground without the chance to germinate were chosen by the goddess, Conimabelsa, who, with her unique powers, gave them life and intelligence. These Beings are born in the Andean forests and set out on long journeys toward the country's highest paramos. There, they live lives much like humans: they play, laugh, dance, and love. When their time comes to an end, they return to the forest and bury themselves, continuing the cycle of life and slowly transforming into majestic Andeann Trees. ~ From the Wedding Program ~
(By the way, my sister-in-law’s name is Connie, her sister’s name is Mabel, and her best friend’s name is Elsa. Note the name of the goddess who lovingly created the Nut People… 😊 “Her” assistant was Yeni…)
Downstairs, I join others already at the table. A couple of people are busy making breakfasts to order - eggs, arepas, fresh papaya and other fruits, fresh squeezed juice, and of course, coffee. Since I don’t drink coffee, much to their shock, I’m given hot chocolate.
The conversation is, of course, about what is happening with Venezuela, and other news coming out of the U.S. Dismay, frustration, anger, anxiety, disgust, the emotions sit heavy on us even while the sun shines in the windows, and we are eating like royalty.
Today we are going with my brother, David, to his finca (country home). Several years ago, he moved to Colombia after retiring from teaching and eventually bought some land about 100 kilometers north of Bogotá. The land was empty save for some bean fields and a mouldering, dilapidated little house with an outdoor stone kitchen. These still stand several years later, as they can’t decide whether to restore them or tear them down.
He had a cabin built. Our nephew, Nathan, moved in with him and took over developing the land. I hear it is now filling up with both food and flower gardens.
From Bogota to the finca is over two hours through the crowded city, the countryside, and finally over some extremely bumpy mountain roads. We are definitely in rural Colombia! We’re still in the mountains, but at a slightly lower elevation than Bogota. Bogota, located on a plateau in the Andes Mountains, is 8,661 feet above sea level.
We stopped to get lunch to bring to the finca, as our nephew, Nathan, and his partner, Yeti (Jenny), had only driven back out there the evening before. The little shop had just pulled different breads out of the oven. The aroma filled the shop, wound its way around us, filling up our senses. Warm, fresh buns of different sorts, croissants, braided loaves, and round loaves. We bought a bag of empanadas, a pastry filled with rice and meat, a favorite of mine from previous visits. We also bought a broasted chicken from the shop next door.
I noticed a lot of dogs wandering around. Some were napping in the sun. Some wandered into the shops and gardens. Some trotted along as though on a mission. Some clearly belonged to a human counterpart. Others, who knew? As the days passed, I saw that dogs are honored and allowed to pretty much meander where they will. They are part of life, here.
Back on the road, we finally reached the turn-off to my brother’s finca. A narrow, five-kilometer winding gravel road up the mountain with its share of ruts and bumps and potholes. But at last, the gate. We’re here!
There are the gardens I heard about. There is a pond, ducks, a few rabbits, a little black dog, and a big yellow cat. There are several bulls owned by a neighbor who are allowed to roam some of the land to keep the grass down. There is a greenhouse and a chicken coop.
I’d seen pictures of the cabin and the property, but being there in person, feeling the peaceful energy of the place, this little finca in the mountains…ahhh… I was speechless, even a bit teary.
We shared our lunch and toured the cabin. Then Nathan toured us around the property. We watched the darkness come. I listened to his plans, his hopes, and his dreams for the place. I imagined how proud my brother must feel, watching his nephew slowly turn what had been empty land into a beautiful, thriving little farm.
I decided that I wasn’t going to leave the next day until I climbed up the side of the mountain to the top, where his property ends. “Actually,” they said, “ you switchback a bit and then hike around to the back side where you can see the waterfall, and then if you want, you can climb to the top and look down on the cabin and the gardens.”
Unfortunately, as the afternoon and evening wore on, it was clear that my husband, David, would not be climbing. Would he even be awake? He wasn’t feeling well. We hoped it wasn’t the flu and wasn’t contagious.
I woke up early to the sound of roosters crowing and birds twittering and calling out to one another. I went out and sat in the sunshine on the patio off the deck overlooking the property, the valley below, and the mountains in the distance. The cat came by to inspect me. The ducks came waddling past, looking for seeds to eat. It was chilly, so I had my jacket on. But after about an hour, the jacket came off. Despite the chill of being at nearly 8000 feet in elevation, it is a tropical sun. We aren’t that far from the equator. When the skies are clear, the sun can be ruthless in the afternoon. Nathan had said it is much easier to work on the farm when it is cloudy, which it often is. Yeni came out, then, and said, in perfect English, “Breakfast is ready.” Nathan has been teaching her. She made me smile.
After breakfast, Nathan and Yeti, decided to help me make the climb to the top of the section of mountain that is the backbone of the property. To do so, they had to turn off the electric fence that keeps the three bulls penned. We hadn’t gotten too far when Nathan, who was bringing up the rear, called out to Yeni that one of the bulls was following. They were concerned because first, it isn’t their bull, and second, if it climbs into the hills, will it get lost? Will it tear up their neighbors’ bean fields?
But there was no convincing this guy to return. I have always heard that bulls are dangerous. Not to be messed with. Certainly not to get up close and personal. But this fellow was like a giant puppy dog. He followed us no matter what Nathan did to discourage him. He got between Nathan and me at one point and was sniffing at my shirt and my neck. He kept licking my arms. I turned around at one point, and there was his beautiful face two feet from mine. He leaned forward and licked my face! Nathan said it was because I was sweating, and so I was salty! At another point, he had stopped, and we needed to get around him to continue our climb. So I found myself with my back a foot from the mountainside, and my stomach sliding along his big black body. As I got to his head, he turned and looked at me. He was sweet and beautiful. I called him Ferdinand.
At one point, he had broken through a couple of fences in order to keep up with us. He got ahead of us. Then on a ridge, he stopped and was snorting and pawing the ground and tossing his head and his horns. What was this?!
Nathan said, “Oh! Look!” Further down the ridge were three cows. We waited until Ferdinand settled down a bit, and then we crept carefully past him. He didn’t follow us.
We had come around to the back side of the mountain.
I had a choice: to hike down to the waterfall or continue up to the top of the peak where the property ends. Or both. I didn’t think I could do both. So I chose to hike to the peak. (The waterfall is barely visible in the upper right of this photo…)
I made it. You can just barely see the cabin hidden in the trees in left center of the photo.
As I sat and looked down at the finca, and at the surrounding mountains, Nathan talked of his dream to somehow haul the building materials up there and build a little picnic shelter or something. Later that week, we returned, bringing more of the family who had arrived from Minnesota. His cousin got excited about Nathan’s idea because he saw the possibility of creating a rock climbing program on the mountain.
Coming back down the mountain, we all wondered if we’d run into Ferdinand again. We did. He had brought his new lady friends with him. They were grazing just a bit up the slope from our trail. Ferdinand saw us, left his ladies, and fell in behind us. A bit further down, we found the other two bulls we’d left behind when we began our trek. They had decided to climb up the mountain to see what they could see. They were blocking our path at a difficult juncture, so, having experienced Ferdinand’s mellow temperament, Nathan thought he could wave his arms a bit and get this new guy to move.
Nope. Bad idea. To the bull, it appeared Nathan was challenging him. In seconds, Nathan went flying through the air, tumbling about ten yards down the mountainside. Fortunately, he was okay. A bit bruised, but okay. Yeni and I had to follow him through the tall, thick grass to go around the new guys who just watched us, fortunately. Ferdinand decided to go rejoin his ladies.
By the time we got back down onto the main part of the property, my legs decided they’d had enough. It was almost more difficult to walk up that last incline to the cabin than to climb up the mountain!
After an afternoon snack, we loaded up and headed back to Bogota. We knew the rest of the American side of the family and a few other guests from Michigan had arrived that afternoon. There were folks to see, things to do, and a wedding happening in two days.
Upon our arrival back in the city, we found out about the shooting of Renee Good in Minneapolis. It is a strange mixture to hold such heaviness in our hearts, while also joyfully embracing family just arrived from Minnesota, and preparing for a wedding alongside our Colombian family and friends, and the relatives of the bride.