That Human Connection

I’m connected to humans that never cease to inspire me. They’re as close as the bedroom across the hall; the sweaty sidewalks of Suri Salcedo park; the always loud, always energetic SENA centers and as far as the streets of NYC; the café con leche-and-tortilla serving cafés of Madrid; the places I feel at home in the Garden State; the largest city in the PNW; the all boys classrooms in Gumi, South Korea; the Texan city proud of staying weird; and the underwater world in the Gulf of Thailand.

The definition of human connection has changed drastically in today’s digital, hyper connected world. You do not have to be physically close to others to feel connected to them, to be constantly in communication with them, and to even have the pleasure of seeing their face and entering their world through iPhone-to-iPhone video calls. Just this past week I saw faces in New Jersey, South Korea, Thailand and Seattle.

More so than being digitally connected to others across the world, I’ve been feeling pretty damn inspired by their own respective paths. From a fresh-outta-college offer in the Big Apple to a new job at Boeing to a paradise resort receptionist gig on a Thai island to new-and-exciting changes at API, my humans truly amaze me. When I woke up to lots of big news this week I couldn’t help but feel that rush of adrenaline I felt when I accepted my teaching placement in Barranquilla.
Mutual inspiration is where it’s at. Developing and maintaining those relationships that get my heart pumping, my mind racing and my feet dancing is what’s important to me.

I am so grateful to be able to message, talk and video chat with the people I love and admire. It keeps me humble, and it keeps me going. Cassie’s last text to me before hopping on a one-way flight (well, a few flights and other forms of transportation) to Koh Tao, Thailand was: “Boarding. I love you. You inspire me to be free. I’ll contact you from the future. Xoxoxo.” I warned her that I’d have wise things to say before she set off to Asia, but our last FaceTime call was roughly 85% gasps and screams. I felt like I was boarding those three flights, hopping on that ferry and checking into a bungalow with her. It’s an adrenaline-pumping risk. It’s a chance at making your own way because you were determined, you were dedicated, and you made it happen. My go-out-into-this-world send-off message to Cassie was: “Go take life by the balls.” Though it’s not the most eloquent message I’ve ever sent, it communicated my sage advice pretty clearly: You are free to choose the when, where, how, why, and who of your life, so get out there and go after whatever it is that may be.

So Many Feels

It’s already June. I’ve been in Colombia for almost five months, and the halfway point is closer than I realize. I’m splitting up my ten months with a short trip home to NJ for Father’s Day (PSA: June 19th-24th for anyone who would like to rendezvous), and returning to Cartagena for a longer explore-the-Colombian-coast-and-go-to-a-wedding-in-Manizales trip. I already have so many feels.

Skeptical Kerianne.

Feels, you say. Yup, feels. Short for feelings, but there’s no shortage of those. I’m in a constant state of feelings, an ebb and flow of emotion.

A bit bumpier ebb and flow of emotion.

Happiness culminates in carefree hammock swings, savory peanut butter spoonfuls, and impromptu song and dance. Gratitude shows in heartfelt student appreciation, sweaty, yet somehow bearable sunshine, and deep, awe-inspired breaths. Adaptation prevails in jeans-clad classes, steaming hot tea sips, and (some) bus route knowledge. Adventure happens in hitchhiked truck rides, spur-of-the-moment classroom activities, and fly-by-the-seat-of-your-pants weekend excursions.

Daily B’quilla bouncy bus adventures.

Some days I’m all, “Hell yeah, I’m a teacher in Colombia” and other times I’m like, “DAH! I’m an actual teacher in Colombia.” You ever have those days? You roll out of bed and remind yourself of your geographical location and your current occupation, all the while thinking WOAH! This is happening right now. It’s the real deal. 

I think back to my mindset just before college graduation: I knew I wanted to go somewhere and do something. A year ago I couldn’t have predicted where I am and what I’m doing now. Again, lots and lots of feels. Thing is, I’m actually doing what I set out to do. I initially planned to be teaching in Brazil, but hey, I landed in Colombia and I couldn’t be happier. It is during those days that I sit and wonder where my path will take me a year from now. I sure as hell couldn’t tell you a year ago that I’d be vying for a window seat on a bumpy, salsa-tuned colectivo bus en route to teach English at SENA in Barranquilla on a steamy, endless summer’s day in June.

I’d Tell Him Happy Birthday 

My dad would have turned 58 today. I would’ve given him a call, though he wouldn’t have expected it. I would’ve started the conversation with an ecstatic Doooooodle! I would’ve heard him say “Swee-T, you took the time out of your day to call your dad, huh?” I would’ve been reminded of that same response on May 3rd, 2013 when I wished him a happy birthday from Madrid.

Two years later and I would tell him a million minuscule details of my life. The small stuff he always asked about; the daily happenings that would make him happy. Because he’d most likely be where he usually was when he answered my calls from abroad: at work. “What are you looking at Keri? Where are you? I’m sitting at my desk, 60 feet from a window and I’m not even sure what the weather’s like today.” 

I’d tell him I just came back from our go-to place on Sundays: the ice cream stand in Suri Salcedo park, where I ordered two – yes, two – ice creams with a total of four oh-my-goodness-can-I-have-more flavors (arequipe, chocolate, maracuyá and mandarina) for about $3 USD. They don’t have Rocky Road there, huh? 

I’d tell him I sang Hillsong to my students after several pleas of “Ayyyy, teacher!” and forceful blockage of the only exit route.

I’d tell him I haven’t replaced my lightbulb that blew out because his persistent Shut the Lights Before You Leave the Room mantra made me accustomed to navigating my room and my living space in the dark.

I’d tell him my work commute has involved riding shotgun on a colectivo bus and hopping on the back of a moto taxi.

I’d tell him how much fun my students are, that we’ve even done karaoke in English and he would have been stoked to hear one’s rockin’ take on “Teenagers” by My Chemical Romance.

I’d tell him my apartment is equipped with a hammock, a B’quilla breeze and a palm tree view.

I’d tell him my paper daddy now permanently accompanies me on my travels.

I’d tell him how my days are based around meal times (as always) because I happy dance around my kitchen while cooking. How he’d be right there with me moving to the beat.

I’d tell him stove-popped popcorn is one of my weaknesses.

I’d tell him Pradomar is the closest I can get to a nice Colombian beach, and that I sure as hell take advantage of catching the bus there every weekend.

I’d tell him my landlord’s practical ways remind me of him.

I’d tell him I’m learning to buy what’s necessary, to not be wasteful, and to be smart about perishable groceries. Buy only what you need. 

I’d tell him I still make sure to not put things on my bed just in case I want to pass out. You never know if you’ll be too tired later and you’ll just wanna climb in bed, Keri. 

I’d tell him how Colombian women walk with purpose, each hip sway a calculated move. How I could see him shake his skinny hips to impersonate them.

I’d tell him I’m anal about how they pack my groceries at the check out, that I’d prefer to do it myself like he taught me. Like things with like things!

I can envision his smiling, wide-eyed reaction. How he’d ask more and more questions to really come to understand what it’s been like for me living and teaching English in Barranquilla. He’d let out a sigh and tell me I couldn’t complain: You’ve got quite the set up, Swee-T! And I truly can’t complain. I have absolutely nothing to complain about: I’m alive and breathing.

Barranquilla Feels Like Home

From the outside looking in, you’d think my life in Barranquilla is all rainbows and butterflies. The real magic is the fact that I’m living and working just like everyone else. This isn’t just a trip. This isn’t a vacation. This is my life. I just chose to live it in a foreign country. Yes, I do have fun. Yes, it is quite the adventure. But I must remind you that every adventure has its moments of negativity, miscommunication, confusion and mishaps. Nonetheless, I’m growing accustomed to life here on the Caribbean coast. It has been a hot, sweaty roller coaster ride, yet Barranquilla continues to feel like home even when I’m experiencing the inevitable ‘downs.’

Even when I can’t possibly understand how my students wear long pants and a long sleeve button down shirt to class every day.

Even when the woman behind me in the supermarket checkout line reaches over, rustles through my groceries, picks up my bag of quinoa and asks me how to cook it.

Even when the bus I usually ride to work never shows up when I need it to, and when it does, sometimes the driver will say “no hay de viaje.” (Aka, try again later, Kerianne – we ain’t taking you to work. Ha!)

Even when the sweltering heat drenches my entire body in sweat within minutes of exiting my somewhat cool, fan-breezed apartment.

Even when the silver lining of the Caribbean coast is cold showers. In actuality, I genuinely look forward to them and I took three of them yesterday. 

Even when standing in line for a while is a thing and Colombians accept it as a normality. Patience is more than just a virtue here.

Even when it’s rare to find toilet paper and hand soap in public bathrooms. (BYOTP: Bring Your Own Toilet Paper)

Even when I wake up without electricity because any drop of rain shuts the power off in certain neighborhoods, of which mine is included…of course.

Even when a Cosmetology student interjects my class with a demonstration of her masseuse skills on yours truly, in front of all of my students. Though it was a combination of embarrassment and laughter. Okay, mostly laughter. And maybe some beginnings of hysterical tears. 

Even when the week I start wearing pants is the week an actual heat wave swoops into Barranquilla. And it’s apparently setting up camp until July. Oh word?

Even when Colombian cat-callers of all ages call me princesa or tell me that beauty should be a sin as I nonchalantly head to work.

Even when I’m the only one on the bus literally dripping sweat. Seriously, though, how do they not sweat? 

Even when a casual conversation with a taxi driver ends in a bold invitation to go on a trip to the beach together.

Even when cold showers aren’t enough to stay cool. So much so that I lay in bed post-shower with the fan directly blowing (hot) air on me.

Even when window seats that give you intermittent access to the breeze aren’t available on the overcrowded colectivo buses.

Even when my favorite ice cream place smack dab in the middle of the park really entices me after our group does yoga and works out.

Even when my doorman graciously warns me that there will be no running water on Saturday – for the entire day.

Even when I try to pay my bills on time, but the cashiers at the grocery stores – plural because I visited a few – simply tell me that I can’t pay my bills here sans any justifiable explanation. But, but… the bill says I can pay it at this store.

Even when my time in Colombia has taught me to cógela suave. Because these ‘downs’ I’ve experienced do not nearly carry as much weight as the endless supply of ups. I’ve got that B’quilla glow (cough, sweat) and that Colombian mentality: I’m just going with it.

Food Series Take One

Here in Barranquilla, I’ve had more time to dedicate to things I’ve always wanted to do. So I asked myself: “What are things you’ve always wanted to do, to know more about, to learn, and to develop as a habit?” Cooking is one of those things (among many, many others). There’s nothing I love more than good food. The following food porn pictures have been lovingly prepared and carefully photographed by yours truly. Note: Breakfast is my favorite meal of the day. 

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My Kind of Humans

I have this overwhelming feeling that I’m in the right place at the right time with the right people. Barranquilla feels right because of our little costeño family. We’ve truly gotten to know one another, so much so that we’re not even interested in meeting other gringos. We’re more than happy with what we’ve got.


When you bring together a handful of like-minded travelers, you’re bound to see friendship sparks flying. Ever since our unforgettable Carnaval-inspired introduction on our Avianca flight to Barranquilla, we realized just how fun-filled our time on the coast would be.

Each one of us brings something dynamic to the table, quite literally:


We continuously comment on the fact that we really lucked out being placed together. We’re thrilled that each one of us is bursting with personality.

And we’ve got a combined sense of humor that makes for the best family night entertainment. Cue a How I Met Your Mother impromptu intervention complete with letters of flowery bullshit and hilariously fake means for self-improvement.

There is no matching the kind of instant support and common ground you receive from a shared experience. Orientation in Bogotá was inspirational, but life in Barranquilla is far more exhilarating. Gratitude for my B’killa family is endless and there’s no doubt in my mind that ten months with this bunch of psychos will be costeño crazy.