I walked home alone today. It was 5:00. My principal had driven me to a central position between our apartments and I just did a tuck-and-roll out of the car. Okay, not so much. He pulled over and I hopped out. There is this secretive pathway that jogs over a river (or perhaps sewage stream) at the bottom of a dead-end road. It's sandwiched between an empty building currently under construction and the back side of another building. At night it's pretty sketchy, but in the evening with an hour or so left of sunlight I had no hesitation. That was my route. I choose it because it cuts off a good 10 minutes and a treacherous hill from the normal route.
Down I go, approaching the dead end and I hear it, "Señora!" It was coming from behind me, so I ignored it. Then I heard the same plead again. I turned around and saw a man and a woman sitting on the front porch of a house on the street. Upon making eye-contact the man continued (in Spanish, but I'll do you a favor a translate), "Be careful, there is some riff-raff on the path." I had already scanned out the situation and evaluated it as being safe, but I could understand their concern. Instead of ignoring them and trodding ahead, I decided to just turn back and take the long way home. The hill-of-death (as I like to call it) would be waiting for me. Coming down the road behind me, however, was another single lady around my age. The woman on the porch suggested, "Why don't you two just walk together. Then you'll be safe."
So, there I found myself, walking with a stranger. She told me it was a good idea to walk together. As I explained to her the added significance for me because I'm a gringa, she looked at me surprised, "You're a gringa?!" Ha! I had passed for 13.5 seconds as a Colombian. We walked the path together without trouble and had a lovely conversation. She was excited that I loved Pereira and curious about my work.Then, when it was time for our paths to split we said goodbye and that's that.
I continued my walk home with an obvious smile of contentment. Those people didn't need to warn me, but they did. They were just looking out for a stranger. Then I was given the opportunity to walk with another single lady and we had a great chat. Although I live in a city of 500,000 people, I felt like Periera was a small town. A small town that I belong to. A small town that I'm proud to be a part of.
Down I go, approaching the dead end and I hear it, "Señora!" It was coming from behind me, so I ignored it. Then I heard the same plead again. I turned around and saw a man and a woman sitting on the front porch of a house on the street. Upon making eye-contact the man continued (in Spanish, but I'll do you a favor a translate), "Be careful, there is some riff-raff on the path." I had already scanned out the situation and evaluated it as being safe, but I could understand their concern. Instead of ignoring them and trodding ahead, I decided to just turn back and take the long way home. The hill-of-death (as I like to call it) would be waiting for me. Coming down the road behind me, however, was another single lady around my age. The woman on the porch suggested, "Why don't you two just walk together. Then you'll be safe."
So, there I found myself, walking with a stranger. She told me it was a good idea to walk together. As I explained to her the added significance for me because I'm a gringa, she looked at me surprised, "You're a gringa?!" Ha! I had passed for 13.5 seconds as a Colombian. We walked the path together without trouble and had a lovely conversation. She was excited that I loved Pereira and curious about my work.Then, when it was time for our paths to split we said goodbye and that's that.
I continued my walk home with an obvious smile of contentment. Those people didn't need to warn me, but they did. They were just looking out for a stranger. Then I was given the opportunity to walk with another single lady and we had a great chat. Although I live in a city of 500,000 people, I felt like Periera was a small town. A small town that I belong to. A small town that I'm proud to be a part of.
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