As the Embera Indians who were once brought from the Department of Choco from the night flight I also wondered what they were doing down there, within a gigantic illuminated outline that delimited Medellin, what were so many stars doing down.
At the airport, between an atmosphere of dark light and ocher colors that aged the decor, I was waiting for Paola Andrea Ramírez, professor at the EIB (Inter-American School of Library Science) at the University of Antioquia, the institution that would shelter my three-month academic stay.
I was among the heap of Colombians returning from the motherland and they were received with a countless exciting family howl when in the raised hands of the muted and smiling Paola I read my name written on a discreet sign. Only after the presentations and remembering the sleep of my first Colombian night.
It was when I knew that I had to delay my old Spanish clock for seven hours. You see, I was still lost, very nervous and I could continue to detail to you in every degree each of the strange moments that I lived to make them as warm as the air that I now breathe, but I’m afraid to wear you out if I do. We go through only the cold structure of events and if I describe these first moments it is because I believe they will accompany me for the rest of my days.
Paola Andrea, my tutor at the EIB, lived on a sidewalk in Ríonegro and we were heading there. With the night already closed, on a walk along mountainous roads that already made me heavy, suddenly the taxi that was transporting us had to stop.