Tippin the hat to Medellin

I slept one night to the hacking and grunting that had been going on every night for the past 17 days in my couchsurfing apartment. I awoke and took my last shower in that icy stream that had no shower head, but only a rusty old pipe. I took one last glance out the 11th Story window, seeing the wet laundry that was handing from all of the rusted metal balconies. The sky was as it usually was: crystal blue, with thunder-head clouds looming in the dinstance. I took one last stroll to my favorite empanada stand, ordering two, washing it all down with a whole lotta" garlic spice and fresh guacamole. I said one last "muchas Gracias" to the old man behind the counter. He had probably owned this stand for a good 20 years and would continue to serve some of the best empanadas in Medellin for years to come. And then it hit me as I walked away from the stand: this was what traveling was all about: leaving your mark on every person you met. YOu didnt have to make an impression, undertsand their language, or their culture. The human connection was indivisible, traveling through a timeless ether you couldnt quite put your finger on at any one moment. Whether you liked it or not, a simple meeting of the eyes or brush of shoulders in a passing crowd was all that you needed to make this connection. You gave them a bit of you presence and they injected a bit of their presence into you. I would leave my mark on the people of this city. The next traveler would come along and tag their presence after me. YOu didnt have to do anything grand or spectacular, but simply be present in a special time and place in the world, all the while carrying your joy from the people you met on your journey, like an uncontrolable wildfire, engulfing everyhting in its path.

Tippin the hat to Medellin

Medellin, Colombia