I know how surprising it is when I tell people that I live in Colombia. “Why on God’s earth?” is the usual, barely camouflaged, response. My choice baffles friends abroad and Colombians equally.
You live there? the former react half-questioningly. You live here? the latter ask somewhat disbelievingly.
Yes, I live in Bogotá, Colombia.
I, and all who live here, know how Colombia is perceived in the world at large. The picture is not kind. For many years, during the 1970s, ‘80s and ‘90s, Colombia was hell on earth for those who lived where I do now. Kidnappings, bombings and assassinations were daily events. A new evil was waiting daily and fear was a constant companion.
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How does a country morph from a state of chaos to a place that is less chaotic, less immediately dangerous? Over time, with new leadership and with the arrival of new generations, and also those who have a growing desire to be able to say enough is enough.
We saw that in Ireland in our recent past. And we are seeing that now in Colombia.
I left Ireland even before my UCG (then called University College, Galway) results were announced. I didn’t go to my graduation. In the late summer of 1971, I was already on a road trip across the United States, discovering the Grand Canyon, Berkeley and the vast middle plains of that Vietnam-era country. I like to feel a place; to be alive in it.
I lived in the United States from the moment I left Ireland until just about 2010.
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After my road trip, I registered for photography classes at Ohio State University in Columbus. And there at the same university, I became an oracle of the Irish language for a linguistics class. They focused on the nuances of how I said, “Dia dhuit”, “go hanna maith”, “amárach”, “inniu” and so many other words and phrases in Irish.
Then I began to teach English in the US – first in Boston, and later in New York and Florida. In Florida, I felt I needed a further challenge. Fares on Spirit Airlines from Fort Lauderdale to Bogotá were then insanely cheap – $149 for a round-trip. I started to visit Colombia.
Finally, I thought I would explore new horizons and live in Colombia for a year or so.
I rented an apartment in Bogotá. I took my cats, packed my bags and got on a plane from Orlando as if I was doing something completely understandable. The US border agents took me aside on the ramp down to my plane. There was nothing understandable about it to them.
You’re not afraid of being kidnapped in Bogotá, they asked me.
No, I said.
And thus began my life in Colombia. I wasn’t afraid of being kidnapped then, and I’m not afraid of being kidnapped now.
In addition to teaching English, I found that I could concentrate on my cartooning, art and writing in apartments in listed or landmark buildings in Bogotá, paying a rent that would be laughable in Dublin or New York. And I found myself developing a network of friends and acquaintances the likes of which I never had anywhere else. I began to be very protective of my newly adopted country in my writing.
By now, my one-year adventure has turned into close to 15.
Shortly after my arrival in Colombia, I had lunch with an architect from the first company that I worked for here. It turned out that she had psychic powers, much to my surprise.
No, really!
“Do you do know why you are in Colombia?” she asked me, looking up from her salad. “You are in Colombia to learn patience,” she told me.
And it was as if a light bulb went off in my head.
Whoa! It turns out I was in Colombia to learn to slow down.
Now, I hear the flower man calling on Tuesdays, Thursdays and Saturdays. I hear him from a couple of blocks away. When I need flowers, I grab my wallet, and go and open the gate of my house. We usually arrive together, as if synchronised.
The flower man’s motorcycle is jam-packed with a profusion of roses, sunflowers and even exotic Heliconia Pendulas. Usually I buy two bunches of Astromelias, for 10 thousand Colombian pesos, or about €2.35.
Outside my kitchen window, lilac and yellow-tinted daylilies are captivating every three weeks of so, year round. Growing among the trees in my backyard are orchids in a shade of fuchsia that I have never seen before.
I thought I needed a break. I thought I would live in Colombia for a year or so. It turned out I simply needed to slow down and to pay attention to life. Life was simpler than I ever imagined possible. That’s what I discovered in Colombia.
And that’s why I stay.
- Christopher Burke is from Galway city. He left Ireland in 1971 and lives in Bogotá, Colombia.
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