Happiness is fleeting
Endless affection
And hope
Renewal of true love
Tonight
Art and culture have always been a part of my life, languages came later. As a teacher of International students I have always had to "read between the cultures". I find myself now in Colombia, on a journey with my teenage daughter. I have a new home, a new school, and a new adventure. These are some of my observations. -The world is a book and those who do not travel read only a page. ~Augustine -
Monday, February 14, 2011
Sunday, February 13, 2011
Arrival
In Colombia the day starts at 5am. You wake to people in full conversation at raised volume. Children are sitting outside the public school by 6am. Swarms of motorcycles surround the small yellow taxis. Everyone is dressed, pressed, made up, and alert.
My conductor, Don Alvaro arrives 15 minutes early. I have mascara on one eye and no shoes. I grab my books and go! The door man calls me senorita and smiles. I have not had doors opened for me in a long time and I take my place in the back seat. They open again.
The school is busy at 7am and there is a red eyed philosophy teacher between my desk and my books. I look for another place as the sun rises the oldest students pretend to warm up for exercises. I am alone in the outdoor cafeteria and begin to wake. The mountains look at me. There is a force of men working the grounds: sweeping, pruning, and rebuilding amongst the lemon, mango, and laurel trees. Blue budgies fly above, there is a school dog that guards the perimeter, he looks more dingo than dog, the student do not touch him. His name is Monica.
My conductor, Don Alvaro arrives 15 minutes early. I have mascara on one eye and no shoes. I grab my books and go! The door man calls me senorita and smiles. I have not had doors opened for me in a long time and I take my place in the back seat. They open again.
The school is busy at 7am and there is a red eyed philosophy teacher between my desk and my books. I look for another place as the sun rises the oldest students pretend to warm up for exercises. I am alone in the outdoor cafeteria and begin to wake. The mountains look at me. There is a force of men working the grounds: sweeping, pruning, and rebuilding amongst the lemon, mango, and laurel trees. Blue budgies fly above, there is a school dog that guards the perimeter, he looks more dingo than dog, the student do not touch him. His name is Monica.
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