A month and a half ago, I got up before dawn and started a long drive out of the Medellín valley. We were enshrouded in a fog that clung to the cold mountains at three o’clock in the morning, a frighteningly solitary hour. I feared that up there, all alone, the car wouldn’t be able to bear the weight of our suitcases crammed with a ridiculous number of my dictionaries, enough coffee to last us at least three months, and all the basic tools to start a new life, minus the machete—not because it wasn’t essential, but due to oversize restrictions.
We arrived at the airport intact, took a deep breath once all the luggage was checked in, and ordered some strong coffee at Pergamino.
How else would we bid farewell to Colombia?
In June 2016, with my Colombian husband and his shiny new immigrant visa, we began our next chapter of life in the United States.
Sufficient reason to forgive the marked absence on this blog lately, I hope.
We arrived smack in the middle of summer to the flat plains of Texas. We came from a tropical country that enjoys equatorial heat year round. We didn’t have a clue about what was in store for us. I’m from Minnesota, where summer is like a hiccup that comes unexpectedly between opening and shutting the freezer door.
It’s so hot that I only drink coffee once a day, at six in the morning, when a cool breeze comes in and it’s only 84 Fahrenheit inside, which is the average high in Medellín. By 10 am it’s hit 92 degrees. Would you like a mid-morning coffee? No thanks.
But I love the new place and how we’re transforming it into a home.
I really want to plant some corn and beans in the backyard and grow a truly Colombian garden, or at least a replica of what we had in the beautiful village of Jardín (translates to Garden), Colombia.
We are now in the city of Denton (sounds like “dentudo”=long-toothed), where folks like their food. Not so much the grass that toothy rabbits eat. More like cowboys with their steak.
Unfortunately we could not feed any rabbits, or even goats, the tall sea of grass in the backyard. We sweat it out mowing manually (where is that darn machete now?), fertilizing the soil along the way with our good intentions to cultivate the land.
For now we have to wait until the heat of summer passes.
Meanwhile, how about some iced coffee? Yes please. Or just ice cream…