Montería, Colombia. Sinú's Pearl.

The hottest place I've ever been on Earth and probably one of the hottest places on the planet. Montería has an annual average temperature of 28°C, while the Sahara desert has an average temperature of just 30°C, only two degrees above Montería! And while in the Sahara nights could reach freezing temperatures and during the winter the average temperature is just 13°C, Montería is freaking hot every single day of the year, every minute of every hour. If you ask me, what the first thing is when I think about Montería, my immediate answer is, “hot”. I was born there, 1983, and lived there sixteen years until I finished high school. Truth be told, I have mixed positive and negative feelings about my hometown; but if you ask me if I'd like to live in Montería for the rest of my life, or if I'd like to die and be buried in Montería, my answer is an absolute no. This is my Montería experience, what I bring with me are memories and experiences of a child and teenager and on that I base this post. An extremely subjective opinion.

Montería has 324 000 inhabitants according to wikipedia and its sources; a medium sized city that actually feels like a small town. It's located in the Atlantic region of Colombia. There's a big river, the Sinú river, that divides the city in two, the city and 'the other side of the river'. People call Montería, Sinú's Pearl, because of its supposed beauty. However, I must say that the city itself is not very remarkable, there's nothing special about its architecture or history, and I dare to say that there's little remarkable about its people either, to a certain extent. And when I say there's nothing or little remarkable I mean that Montería doesn't reach globally, it feels isolated and sometimes even closed. But perhaps I'm wrong, perhaps my story and my family's position in my hometown wasn't very remarkable, that's because my family wasn't from Montería, so they didn't share most of the traditions and the cultural heritage that was typical from my hometown. It was my grandparents on my mother's side who arrived to Montería the year 1957. They were from another region of Colombia that, by Colombian standards, is very different culturally. I can imagine that such cultural differences were big enough to create a gap between local people and my family, which in turn was passed down to me at an unconscious level; so that my relatives would consider theirselves above the locals and thus distanced themselves from people and the local cultural heritage. I must say I've never felt particularly proud of being born there, maybe I'm a fool.

During most of Montería's history there was only one bridge to cross to the other side, so most of people that was on foot would cross the river using small boats called planchones. The planchón is a small hut built over two canoes. It's connected to a steel cable that bridges the river and gives direction to the planchón so that it crosses the river in a straight perpendicular line, powered mostly by the river's current. It's kind of funky and in my opinion the most interesting touristic attraction of Montería: that is, if there is ever someone that would visit Montería as a touristic destination. The fastest of all planchones was called Sinú's Bullet, and to my surprise it's still there after many decades.

Sinú's Bullet - First Avenue by night

One of the reasons why I think Montería is disappointing as a touristic destination is because even though the city is at the coastal region of Colombia, there are no beaches in the city. So close but so far... the refreshing breezes typical of the cities at the Caribbean coast, like Cartagena de Indias, don't reach the city, so from 9:00 to 17:00 the city feels like an oven, and if you want to take a swim in one of the many beautiful Caribbean beaches, you have to drive out of the city to the next touristic beach spot about an hour-and-a-half driving, named Coveñas. It isn't so far away, but far enough so that my family would drive to the beach only once or twice a year. There are many more beaches around but they're pretty much wasted, either because it's scary due to guerrillas or paramilitaries, or because there's no the infrastructure for tourism. What I mean with lack of infrastructure is unpaved roads to get there, unkempt beaches, no hotels or restaurants. Probably good for young people that like to be in the wild, but no very convenient for families with children.

During the 80s and 90s there was only one cinema with one single screen in the entire city. They showed the Lion King for three months straight! A second cinema was opened in 1997 and I know this because the inauguration was the day of Titanic's premier. Both those cinemas went bankrupt and are closed now. The situation changed a few years later with the dawn of the new century and the opening of the biggest shopping mall in Montería's history, Alamedas del Sinú.

Another funny thing about Montería is that people measure progress by the chain stores you find. So when someone asks if the city has changed, people say: “yes, Montería feels like a city now, there is Carrefour, a homecenter, and a new McDonalds”.

Definitively, the most beautiful spot in Montería is the First Avenue or Avenida Primera. It's a park that extends along the riverside. There are huge trees with very luxuriant canopies. I used to play there when I was a kid and collect little red seeds, the one artisans use to make necklaces and bracelets. Every once in a while it was possible to spot monkeys in the trees. After so many years it deteriorated and became a place for the homeless and drunkards. Now during the new century it was completely refurbished and families and kids are once again able to stroll and play around. Very positive. However, as I said there's nothing remarkable about the city, there's nothing else to see around. The architecture sucks, most of the traditional architecture from the Coastal cities in the Caribbean are no more; the traditional houses were beautiful, huge, tall roofs, long windows that reached the floor, indoor open gardens, very cool and fresh, very colorful. Most of them don't exist anymore and the ones that remain are falling apart. They've been replaced by concrete boxes, hot and suffocating.

When I was a kid (in green) at the Old First Avenue

The average Monterían, in my opinion, is pretty narrow minded... sorry. This is something I had to experience myself  many times. For example, if someone sees a guy with long hair, that would be enough cause for screams and scandals in the street. People would look at you with wide-opened eyes as if they had never seen anything so abominable and indecent. Imagine how they looked at me when I had dreadlocks! Don't be surprised if someone calls you satanic because you listen to some Rock & Roll. On the other hand, I've had the chance to meet very intelligent people from Montería. I must say too that some of my closest friends are some of the most intelligent people I've ever met in my life and in the world. There's something there mysterious, I think the new generations from Montería will play a big role in the destiny of Colombia and the world in the future decades. I have high hopes.

The history of Montería is pretty uneventful in my humble opinion. I don't remember anything in particular that should be mentioned, nothing epic, nothing important, nothing crucial in the history of the country, needless to say, the world. I've never been very interested in history, so it's just my biased impression. Perhaps, the most interesting part of history in the region was the presence of the Zenú people. They were the native American people that inhabited those lands, they were to certain extent, very advanced agriculturaly and reached great prosperity. They were very skilled goldsmiths and dominated the land as it has never been done ever since. However, by the time the Spanish arrived they were already disappearing. Their native language and traditions are lost forever, little remains, only the names of some towns, some handcrafts which are already very influenced by the westernized Colombia, some gold pieces, and maybe a few gastronomic traditions.

Montería's gastronomy is not that bad, but it could be much better. There are plenty of fruits and vegetables, there are rivers and oceans, but the food people eat doesn't really reflect such diversity and natural wealth. There might be hundreds and thousands of different fruits, hundreds and thousands of exotic fishes, molluscs and crustaceans... but you wouldn't even known by the way people eat. I believe the gastronomy of the region should be one of the best and most delicious in the world, but it isn't quite there yet. It doesn't even stand out among Colombian gastronomy. You'll find a lot of unhealthy fried foods, very starchy, and very little or no vegetables at all you'd get in a traditional dish from the region. Fruits aren't used at all for cooking, not even to make an exotic sauce, they are mostly used for juices and sweets. Why, I wonder? There's only one fish that is typical and unique in the region, it's called bocachico, and although tasty it's boney and small. There should be hundreds more, I think! There are many snacks and sweets from the region, many made of fruits and very exotic, made of guava, tamarind, coconut, papaya, mammee apple, and many more; that's indeed remarkable! There are also some exotic snakcs made of yam and cassava. Perhaps in the recent years, Montería has stood out also because of its meats. There's a lot of land used for livestock owned by the few. Other exotic edible things you could find around in the streets are iguana eggs, I've never tasted that; a huge ball of pop corn, about the size of a fist, hardened with caramel, it was called Alegría (happiness); you find also something called butifarra, which is a spiced meatball enveloped in some kind of skin. Butifarra has captivated the imagination of people because they were sold in the street by boys of poorer communities, usually from the slums... so people wood say it was meat from dog and the skin was the testicles of some other animal: it was delicious nonetheless. Other exotic foods are turtle, people eat it a lot during Easter; a soup made with the stem of some palm tree, I don't really like that though; there's another soup made of cheese and yam, called mote de queso. Everything accompanied with rice boiled in coconut milk! My favorite type of rice.

It's been four years since I visited my hometown and I must say that Montería is doing pretty good, public transportation is a lot better and more modern that say for example, Lima, Perú. The streets and sidewalks are being restored, which I hope will be done for the entire city. However, there's only two or three traffic lights in the entire city and very bad signalization! I hope the city will be completely modernized and improved in the near future. I remember when I was a kid water from the aqueduct was available every other day, now it seems it flows almost every day. Progress is coming, slowly but surely.

Perhaps the darkest side of Montería are what they call, “subnormal” neighborhoods that had been created from the homeless people displaced by the violence of guerrillas and the paramilitary, or by natural disasters like floods. In this subnormal neighborhoods, the slums, great misery and unimaginable poverty are the norm. I saw some statistics that estimate the population in the subnormal neighborhoods to be about 100 000, many would say it's a lot more, so about a third of the entire population of Montería. I had the chance once to visit one of these neighborhoods and to meet one of his inhabitants. He was in his mid forties and had recently been displaced by FARC... he still had open wounds where he was cut with a machete repeated times, almost to death, by the guerrilla. His home was four walls made of wood planks, and less than ten square meters. The floor was bare ground, one bed, and I don't even know where they went to the toilet or where they cooked. In that little place lived the entire family, husband, wife, and several kids. To top it all, the owner of that miserable home used to go everyday with a meter to check that they hadn't stolen a single centimeter, if he thought they had, he would rise the rent. I've never seen such misery anywhere else. I hope today conditions are better in those neighborhoods, but I'm sure many of them have no access to basic services, clean water, electricity, internet, healthcare, or good education.

It's the paradox of our Country. Montería and the region are very rich in natural resources, there's the Atlantic coast, there are many rivers, there's jungle, there's a huge diversity, and people say it's one of the most fertile places on Earth, yet most of it is underexploited, yet there's many people living below the poverty line. People are starving living in a palace made of gold. When is this going to change, once and for all?

All in all, I think Montería has potential to become a great city, touristic, open, beautiful, and quickly. There are resources, there is the hope, the desire. If it wasn't because of corruption, the narrow mindedness of people with power, and the infestation of criminal groups in the region, I believe the panorama would be a lot brighter.

A Song of Ice and Fire – Game of Thrones Review

I'm addicted, I have to confess. First I saw the TV series, and I loved it. This saga, A Song of Ice and Fire by George R. R. Martin, perhaps even surpasses Tolkien and the Lord of the Rings. After I watched the first season of the series a couple of times I read the first book, Game of Thrones. Once that was finished I immediately started devouring the second book, A Clash of Kings. At this very moment I'm half way the fourth book, A Feast for Crows. The second season of the show have also started and the first episode just aired the 1st of April: amazing. I'm very excited about it.

It's been a long time since I read something so exciting and engaging as A Song of Ice and Fire. The complexity of the story, a great number of very interesting, rich, and well developed characters, the narration of the story is also outstandingly awesome. I truly recommend it to everyone. Both the TV series and the books. The series has been very loyal to the book and because of the success of the first season, the budget for the second season was ramped up, so that they were able to film in extraordinary locations, like Iceland and Croatia. They are both truly masterpieces. However, the second season has diverged a bit more from the book although not enough to make it a dissapointment. Truly epic nonetheless!

My two favorite characters are Arya Stark, a tough little girl, and Tyrion Lannister, the Imp, probably the smartest dwarf in literature. In the series, Tyrion Lannister is played by Peter Dinklage who just won an Emmy and Golden Globe award as best supporting actor. As the books and the character develops things will start to change, the Imp who once seemed a hero succumbs to his evil side, and Kingslayer who we've hated begins to redeem himself and see the light! Great surprises await!

 Arya Stark

 Tyrion Lannister

Then there is Deanerys Targaryen, mother of dragons, Khalessi of the Dothraki.

 

Deanerys Targaryen

If you like fantasy and you haven't heard of this, then you should not hesitate and get the books or start watching the series.

Conga, when I was bitten by the bullet ant

Once I almost died and this is the story. I was a kid, eight or nine years old, I don't remember. I was with my father on an anthropological expedition deep within the Colombian rainforest, not so far from the Pacific cost, Chocó. My father and his team of researchers had to find a tribe of native americans, the Emberá, that was located about a day's walk from the moment we entered the jungle. I remember we got down the bus early in the morning, the only landmarks were the unpaved road and true jungle. There was not a house, not a sidewalk, not a person to be seen, not a traffic sing, not a path to follow. Just hills covered with dense tropical rainforest, and infinite ocean of green left and right.

I must say the beauty of the jungle was overwhelming. Every intensity of green has been engraved into my memory never to fade again, crystal clear brooks streamed gently everywhere decorated with huge stones covered with fresh moss. After quite a few hours of walk we found a particularly beautiful spot, there was a waterfall about four meters high, the water was falling softly and it was possible to stand underneath it to take a shower, the brook flowed like a liquid caress. We stopped to refresh ourselves, have a little swim, eat something, and recharge our energies. After a time playing in the water, I squatted down on a large rock that was bathed with a beam of sunlight. My father and his team went swimming down the transparent waters out of sight. Then, pain, a pain like I have never felt before. A monstrous ant was biting my big toe on my right foot. It was black and gigantic, fat, bigger than my toe. I can see now the ant as it was in front of my eyes, its big jaws stuck on my flesh. It was abominable and evil. It pierced my sweet little toe with its sting of doom. I was paralyzed in fear because I had never seen an ant that big and the sting hurt like hell. The ants I was used to were not bigger than two or three millimeters, the common house ants that scavenge every bit of food left uncleaned. There were some other ants mostly found solitary crawling on trees, about half a centimeter long. This ant was huge and ugly, about three centimeters long, and when I felt it I started screaming and crying immediately. In a minute my father appeared and slapped the ant with the back of his hand. The ant disappeared in a flash but it was too late, it had already injected a powerful venom into my toe. They called this ant, “Conga”.

We resumed our walk but after a few minutes I had an intense fever and the pain was so intense that I could not walk anymore. My father carried me on his shoulders and after a while I passed out. I remember arriving to the tribe, we were on a small path framed by many pineapple plants growing on the side. At the tribe the shaman gave me a strange beverage made of a mix of plants. I drank that and slept...

Our source of all knowledge says about this ant, Paraponera clavata, that “the pain caused by this insect's sting is purported to be greater than that of any other Hymenopteran, and is ranked as the most painful according to the Schmidt Sting Pain Index, given a 4+ rating, above the tarantula hawk wasp”. This ant is also called bullet ant because the sting hurts like a gun shot.

Flowers of Bogotá - Iris

Bogotá, a one thousand five hundred square kilometers ocean of concrete, streets clouded with heavy black somg, horns blasting loud from half century old buses, street vendors shouting everywhere. The beggars, the type you have never seen before, rise from the lowliest bottoms of misery to wander aimlessly. The countless mountains of garbage bags rest on the floor waiting for a late truck to pick them up while being dug up by the hungry and the stray dog. Drivers, passengers, and pedestrians, whoever of them prouder or more arrogant show no trace of respect for one another. The numerous broken roads and sidewalks tell never ending stories of corruption, negligence, and tragedy. Turn around and the beggar's sister enters the sparkling Chanel store, stilettos hammering glowing marble floors, while she calls her brother “indian” as if indian meant inferior of kind. A champagne bottle pops, a child looks through golden framed windows to a reality beyond reach... what shattered illusions.

Where is beauty to be found in this concrete jungle? It's hard to focus on true beauty, sometimes it seems as if beauty has abandoned us all and fled from the streets of Bogotá to Paris or to Stockholm... yet beauty is here too despise the horrors of a city that struggles to be better, everywhere. Not so much in the shape of a Gaudí's Sagrada Familia, an Arc de Triomphe, or a Roman amphitheater from time immemorial. Not so much either in the shape of a trend-setting young fashionista heading to work as on a catwalk. Not even in the shape of a descent bus driver that waits for the last passenger to reach his or her sit... no, no, no, that kind of beauty is rare in Bogotá. There is another type of beauty more abundant, more resilient, more inspiring, and more universal: the beauty of flowers. Flowers of such magnificence that they seem misplaced as they contrast against the gray cement walls, or the shattered brick. These flowers symbolize the path many of us, who live or lived in Bogotá, have decided to walk. A path to progress, to better selves, to beauty. These flowers from the streets of Bogotá are like the Colombian dream that springs to life from a seed of love, striving for a drop of light to feed its newborn leaves of hope.

As I started taking pictures of the many pretty flowers, I noticed how very little I had appreciated such masterpieces of nature, that I could have walked by some of the most beautiful creatures on Earth and not even know. I have taken already pictures of more than a hundred flowers that I have seen on people's gardens or growing by a side walk in Bogotá, and I also noticed that I knew the name of just about three or four out of so many. So I have decided to find out the name and info of each one of them, and as I learn about flowers I will introduce them to you, my dear reader, because I know you can appreciate the beauty of nature.

Today, I bring you a a couple of gorgeous flowers, multicolored, and extravagant. I am sure you have seen them before because they are pretty common. These two flowers belong to the same genus of flowers, Iris. There are more than a couple hundred species of Irises, covering pretty much every single nanometer of the visible light spectrum of colors; and probably beyond that too. Look at the white Iris, it's supposed to be a cross between two different species made in the 50s by a Californian. Check out the subtlety of colors, that almost invisible violet on the three style arms, which are actually the female sex organ of the flower; look at  the petals adorned with dots of that perfect yellow. Now look the blue Iris, it looks like a Cumbia dancer with lift arms holding her long pollera, as she sways her hips with the beat of drums.

And I was thinking these two were some kind of orchids.

Butterfly Iris, also called Nada for some reason I don't know.

 Iris germanica, but I'm not 100% sure. If you know, write it down on the comments.

I am a rowdy waterfall (Flash Poetry)

Can you write a poem in under 5 minutes? Here there are a few, each one in under 5 minutes.


I

Words to live
That is what I am
Many a path
A soul untouched
I carve myself into you
To sculpt with my will a poem
To free you


II

We can go wherever we want
The world is a heart
The world is a mango and an orange
The world is a woman and the world is a man
The world is a child, a surprise, a smile
The world is laughter
The world is insane
We can go wherever we want


III

Walking down the streets of Bogotá
Rain pouring cold and gray
The city of the brave and the fool
And an occasional murderer
Unbreathable concrete
An attempt at pride
The homeless dreams of fleas
The other rides along the mountain on an Andean horse
Those times are gone
Times of gold and wetlands
Now is the time of the cement and the bus
The Muísca reaches for tomorrow
Longing for the clear steel and the orchid

Serenade Mouffetard

He was standing by the cliff, sun bright at noon, not a shadow, not a song by a bird, not a buzzing fly, sweat. She was dreaming of a thunderstorm, lightning exploding, infinitesimal, red dress soaked, rain drops hitting like stones. He saw, distant, a giraffe moving slowly towards the acacias, solitary it was, mournful, he felt the weight of past times but did not recall a specific memory. She woke up agitated, raindrops were hitting the window, the cherry blossoms lashed by a hundred invisible whips at the other side, she felt a strange anxiety, the fear of too many empty days. He hugged his three little sisters and said goodbye, he cried, they cried, yet from within a ghostly peace, rare, the possibility of happiness. She hugged her boyfriend tight and kissed him wishing for infinity, the only one she ever loved, a goodbye and a promise, yet she knew somewhere inside this was the last time. He arrived to Paris the fiftinth of May early in the morning, that very same day he saw tulips for the first time, red tulips, yellow tulips, and another one, black or very dark purple, he just did not know. She arrived to Paris the first of June, the day after at 22.00 exactly, she saw for the very first time the Eiffel tower sparkling, goosebumps, she laughed and felt like a little girl, she had not idea it could be so magnificent. He had made two friends, one was French, one was Scottish, they were his first friends that were not Angolan, and this summer day they were having a pint of beer at a little bar, Rue Mouffetard, the name of which they never knew. She was with two girlfriends, one from Tokyo, the other one she met coincidentally on the flight to Paris, also from Okayama, as they walked down Rue Descartes into Rue Mouffetard she saw, high by the wall, a little poem of a tree and freedom, she felt like toasting. They honestly did not remember the first words they said to each other, but they remembered that toast: “to us!”. Later that night he held her hand and she kissed him.

Kitchen battles

Once upon a time there was a terrible monster on Tanai's kitchen, its name was Mandarinus gigantescus terribilis, it was a scary mutant. And when Mandarinus saw the little baby Mango, it had to bully it:

But what Mandarinus didn't know is that Big Mango Papa was around to set things right!

A reason to love

Dear everyone,

I write today because of the existence of Love. Valentine’s Day is something we do not celebrate in Colombia, at least not in February, but love is something I have known since the very moment I was born. I am grateful I have been loved by my mother, my father and my entire family at every moment of my life. I am fortunate I have been loved by friends, through my childhood, adolescence, and adulthood I have never lacked a good friend. And I have fallen in love too and been reciprocated beyond my wildest dreams.

I am sure that many, if not all of you my readers, share my same fortune: but even if you know no love, even if you have not been loved by your parents and family, even if you have no one you could call a friend, even if your heart is broken beyond repair, even if it seems your reality is a never ending nightmare, even then… you are alive, you have LIFE, you exist. And isn’t life such a wonderful thing? Life shaped by billions of years of evolution: life has seen the Earth being bombarded by meteorites capable of melting the entire planet’s crust, life has seen the Earth freeze from pole to pole for millions of years, life has endured it all and bloomed again and again from the brink of total annihilation. Life has endured the unforgiving past of time at an unimaginable scale and yet we are here today. Smiling or crying, in peace or in misery, here we are today alive. How could you not love your life? Even when no one loves you, you can still love your life, just because it is yours. No matter how dumb we have been, no matter how unfair it has been, we still have a chance at living. And if we are alive we can still love, we can still love ourselves and appreciate the very fact of our existence, because love is a great thing however you define it.

Love without measure; do not hold your love back, not a bit of it, what for? If you are afraid to be hurt you are a fool, if you think your love is undeserved or that you don't deserve to be loved you are an even bigger fool. If you think there is not a reason, you don’t need one… all the good things of life spring from the act of love, so do it, just love goddamn it!

Happy Valentine’s Day,

Tanai

The Colombian experience

Sometimes I think about what it means for me to be Colombian: list the good and the bad, the positive and the dark, the promises of a future and the legacy we have inherited whether we want it or not, the heavy baggage of our traditions and the new paths of tolerance that we may be striving for. Yet all this is useless, it does not really matter what means to be Colombian, or Iraqi, Nigerian, Swedish, or Japanese, as a matter of fact. It does not really matter. We are what we are, we are all the same. I make myself responsible of my actions, I am not who I am because I was born in Colombia, I am who I am because I am Tanai. The same goes for everyone regardless of nationality.

No country is perfect, we should learn to enjoy the beauty of each country not limited to the boundaries of one nation. We should love each country for their uniqueness and beauty, and love their people too. We should be citizens of the world, because after all we are all the same. We all smile, we all cry, we all love and we all get hurt... it is that simple.

Sierra Nevada de Santa Marta seen from 10 km above sea level

The Paris chapter comes to an end

I leave the country with warmth in my heart, happy and satisfied, thinking how crazy this past two years were: a roller caster of emotions is not that good a metaphor to describe my experience… an ‘intergalactic roller caster of doom and glory’ would be more appropriate to describe my feelings.

Today, two years ago, I arrived to Paris for the very first time. I arrived after five wonderful years in Sweden. Getting to France wasn’t at all smooth; it was actually sudden, and very disorganized. I arrived to France lacking confidence, doubting myself, fearful, kind of wounded; something that I can't really explain perfectly why. Probably a combinations of factors: lacking motivation, confusion, economical problems, and hardcore cultural shock.

My first year was very uneventful, I was struggling to pay two credit cards that after a few months of unemployment were almost maxed out. The shock of Parisian cost of life hit me like napalm… goddamn it, what an expensive city! I thought that Sweden was expensive but compared to Paris it feels cheap. Half a pint of beer at a crappy nightclub in Paris could be 10 €… in Sweden I NEVER paid 10 € for a full pint. In other European countries I could have a pint for less than 2 €, the rightful price for a beer.

Let’s not talk about renting an apartment... or the electricity bills, OK? Nonetheless, I was lucky and managed to rent a small studio downtown Paris, extremely well located. Happiness… the City of Light, what a beauty, such magnificence! I did feel inspired. Happiness… its women, what beauty, such magnificence. My inspiration skyrocketed! I must say that so far, from all the places I’ve been around the world, Paris scores No. 2 in my top 5 list of cities with the best ratio of gorgeous women per square meter.

Actually, I came to Paris to work as a researcher for the CEA, the French Commission for Atomic and Alternatives Energies; a governmental research agency. It was kind of funky… the place is about 1 or 1.5 hours commuting time from Paris. The facilities were kind of old but the research and the equipment was state-of-the-art. Although I had the slowest computer in history, once I counted 5 minutes before the browser opened after double click. Lunch was extremely cheap and there was always a lot of options, I think I had too many steak hachés avec frites in any case. At the end of my two years of research, I published a scientific article, and two more are on the pipeline… ready to be sent to the publishers. Most importantly about the whole CEA experience is that I came up with a great idea, that I believe will let my voice be heard more attentively in the field of work I specialize: hopefully… let’s see how far I can push it.

However, my dating life in Paris sucked ass until around the end of winter 2011. Before that and during the entire 2010 I did not dated a single girl. March 19, 2011, I’m out partying when I meet this girl from Poland. A woman not favored by Aphrodite. The experience was kind of revolting and led me to reflect on the poor state of my soul until then. I concluded that at all cost I had to recover my confidence, my natural mojo, and get my dating life back into shape. In less than six months, after some amazing times, I met the most wonderful girl… she who today is the object of my adoration, she who gives me immense reasons for happiness.

And then after a year, in a really dumb move that I regret, I gave up my apartment and moved out to the suburbs... I wanted to save some extra money, but at the end it was a very bad idea. This neighborhood, called Villebon-sur-Yvette, although pretty it's way too boring. It's a neighborhood for retired old people that can't bend down anymore to pick up their dogs poop. So I have renamed this village: Poop-sur-Yvette.

During my two years in France I had the chance to travel quite a bit: I drank excessive amounts of palinka in Hungary; it was always my dream to see the Great Wall of China but I never imagined that it would come true so soon; I bought three of Tin Tin’s comic books in Belgium; I spent one night in London for a job interview, for a position I didn't get; I stood at 3555 meters above the sea level in the summit of Volcano el Teide in Tenerife. I snowboarded in Sweden and I went for an intensely romantic weekend holiday in Helsinki… I also visited Colombia after more than three years away from home! Not bad at all… not bad at all.

I also take with me a permanent scar on my chin after I face-planted horribly, a real life nightmare… details of a shameful story that should never be told again. Just to remind me for the rest of my life not to be a fool.

Another good thing about my time in Paris are the friendships I made, some of which will probably last a lifetime. I was visited by many old friends! In particular, I met again with one of my best friends from my childhood, who I had not seen for almost seven years; like my family... suddenly France didn't feel so foreing to me. I guess making new friendships are one of the most rewarding experiences from traveling the world and visiting new countries. The memory of a museum will vanish after a few years, but a good friendship and the memories of what was lived together will last forever.

Enough. It’s time to close this chapter. It’s time to start writing a new one, a new story perhaps more exciting and more beautiful: a new adventure. Yet all adventures are challenging and dangerous, risks will have to be taken, obstacles will have to be surmounted, but at the end I shall get there… to that place of my dreams.

On Sunday I’ll be going to London, and next Thursday I’ll come back home. My adventure will continue in Perú where I’ll reunite with my love for almost a month… what wonderful surprises await?! I’ll be back to Bogotá for some time again and by the time spring ends I should be flying back to London. There I’ll join a new laboratory at Imperial College London to continue doing research and with some good luck make some interesting discoveries or get some incredible world saving ideas. That’s the plan for the moment.

Goodbye France. It was nice meeting you.