I am a refinery. Water goes in. Sweat comes out. It’s amazing, because in 21 years of life, I never really notice how efficient I can be at this — not until I go somewhere hot. Really hot. And humid. Cartagena is both. Off the plane and into the sauna. Immediately a thin coating of processed H2O forms on my skin. I’m trying to stay hydrated, but it’s hard. There’s so much to distract. In just a few hours in this old, Colombian city, I’ve seen all manner of sight, smelled all manner of smell, dined on just one delicious meal (so far), heard all manner of sound — including the green, parrot-like bird behind me who has learned only one, horrible word — and felt heat, oh so much heat. I’ve also felt welcomed. Cartageneros seem to be hardworking and helpful. I will have a week to feel out the rhythms of this place — to add these sights, sounds, etc. to a mental mix that churns out valuable memories, lifelong relationships, broadened perspective, and — sweat.
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