Week 2: Arrival

3–4 minutes

Dear You,

The travel to Colombia was brutal. By the time we arrived, we had been awake for 27 hours. The flights themselves weren’t too long, but the last bit of training, the waiting, the transfers, and the endless processing made it feel like forever.

The trip from Toronto to Bogotá was quiet and dim. It was a night flight, and the cabin felt like it was holding its breath. I looked out the window and saw something I’ll never forget: the Milky Way. The actual Milky Way. The kind you only ever see in professional photographs from National Geographic. I tried to take a picture, but my camera couldn’t capture it. In real life, it was breathtaking.

Millions, maybe billions, of stars shimmered in purple and blue, glittering across the sky. I sat in silence, forehead resting against the cold plane window, and just watched. It felt like the universe was trying to talk to me: whispering something I couldn’t quite translate, but felt deeply.

Maybe it was saying: You’re exactly where you need to be. Maybe it was reminding me that even in the vastest darkness, there is light. Magic. Wonder. Possibility.

I was questioning my decision to come to Colombia, and if I’m being honest, I’ll probably continue questioning it until the day I return to Canada. But in that moment, it was just me and the universe, and it felt right.

Like I was in the exact place I was meant to be. Like the in-between I’ve been feeling in my current life is its own kind of abyss, just like the cosmos: vast, dark, unknown. But even in that darkness, there is light, magic, and life.

When we reached Bogotá, we had to part ways with the others. There wasn’t time for proper goodbyes. Travel logistics swept us away, but I knew we’d all see each other again soon. Just Jibril, Thulir, and I were headed to Cali. The three of us made our way to the next gate, heavy-eyed and silent.

When we finally landed in Cali, I was overwhelmed by a flood of emotions. Exhaustion. Excitement. Anxiety. Happiness. Sadness. All crashing into each other like waves. A full spectrum. A dichotomy.

It was hot and dry, like the occasional Calgary summer day. That comforted me. It wasn’t humid like Toronto, which was a surprise, but I knew I’d still have to get used to the intensity of the heat.

From the airport, the three of us went our separate ways to meet our host families.

On the drive through Cali, I noticed how lush it is, green everywhere. Alive. The roads felt chaotic and wild compared to what I was used to. At times scary, but also kind of thrilling. It felt like I had stepped onto another planet, one far from my own.

I was scared to meet my host family, a married couple, Vanessa and Leandro. I was tired, overstimulated, and honestly just wanted to disappear into sleep for two days. How was I supposed to live with two strangers? When I met them, they were very nice, but I was too tired to analyze anything.

That first day, I didn’t fight it. I slept at 3 p.m. and didn’t wake up until 10 a.m. the next morning. My body needed to crash.

Over the next few days, things softened. I met the team I’d be working with and slowly got to know my host family. I also grew closer to Jibril and Thulir. The three of us became a quiet unit: a small circle of trust in a city that still felt unfamiliar. We were the only people in Cali who truly understood what the other was feeling.

That first week was made of rest, observation, and letting the unknown begin to feel like something I could live inside.

From,

Cali, Colombia