The wedding crashers (or,Three weddings and a pick-up truck)

We ran into Georgin at the bottom of the hill, and hitched a ride with him when a friend of his with a truck passed.  "My brother's getting married on Saturday, you should come" The comment was mostly directed at Edwin, his cousin, but I was included too.  "Do you know what I'm thinking?" I asked Edwin.  He started to say he didn't, then I think he realized he did.  "Yes, there will probably be dancing,"  he answered my unasked question.  That was all I needed to know.  

It turned out that the wedding was the day after Evie and everyone else arrived, and since Evie actually had known the groom for years, we all decided to go.  What better way to arrive in style than to stand in the open bed of a pick-up truck?

Admittedly, I felt a bit awkward at first.  I didn't know the bride, or the groom.  At least I had met a fairly large percentage of the guests- I came with them, and most of them were family of the groom.   

I still hesitated to take any photos, until we almost burned the house down.  There's nothing like a near catastrophe to break the ice.  It started with a Chinese lantern.  We lit it, and sent it up into the sky with good wishes for the newly weds.  

Or at least, that was the intention.  The only problem was, there must have been a hole in the lantern.  It started off just fine, then drifted towards the roof of the house. We watched as it gently bumped the roof, and then, landed there and fell to its side.  

A hose was found. . .  It didn't reach the roof.  They climbed on the porch, and stretched it a bit further. The trickle of water that came out would have been laughable, except (despite the fact that I thought the roof was made of tin) apparently these roofs are highly flammable. . . 

Just as it was getting a bit tense, the lantern burned itself out.  Disaster averted we did what I'd been wanting to do- we danced.

Take-away for my own hypothetical wedding someday?  Chinese lanterns and dancing salsa?  Yes.  Burning down the house? No.

(Oh, and just to keep the title accurate, here are the other weddings I was at in December and January.)

 Claudia (from Colombia) and Lukas' (from Switzerland) wedding on December 1st
Take-away (again, for my own hypothetical eventual wedding) Beautiful outdoor location? Yes.  Starting 3 hours late? No.

Emily (from the US) and Julio's (from Venezuela) wedding on January 19th

 And, one last take-away- Flowers in glass jars hung from twine look really cute.  Wearing heels on a hillside is a decidedly bad idea (ok, that one is just common sense, but sometimes I need to prove things to myself even when I know they're true.  Like the time I touched the electric fence. And then did it again.)

reverse culture shock

I was out the other day, running errands, it was lunch time and I was hungry, and already in a grocery store, so I decided to buy myself a snack.

I thought to myself that I'd get some raisins and peanuts, and maybe a yogurt.  I headed to the aisle with the nuts.  There were no raisins and peanuts.  Do we not eat them here?  You know, mixed together, in a little bag?  That's my number one go to snack when I want something healthy and cheap and with enough protein that I don't get a headache. They almost always sell them in the checkout line.  I settled for a trail mix with raisins and peanuts along with other ingredients, and headed towards the yogurts feeling a bit disoriented.

I hadn't even gotten to the yogurts when I realized I had a problem- I'm used to drinkable yogurt.  That's the norm in Colombia.  They didn't have even one drinkable yogurt at this grocery store.  And I was reasonably sure that unlike Colombia, where they have disposable spoons at the checkout that they give you if you ask and have something like a yogurt, they don't do that in the States.  I stared at the yogurts, wondering what to do with a non-drinkable yogurt and no spoon when I thought of the deli department.  Problem solved with a spoon where they were selling soups, I was on my way, but still feeling not quite at home in my own country.

Beyond words

Sometimes, there are no words.  Or really, it's just that they aren't adequate.

And that's how I feel every time I think about posting to my blog.

I left Colombia.  I'm back.  And even though I made the choice, even though I still think it was a good choice, even though I'm excited to see where God leads me, it's those first words that echo in my heart as the tears roll down my cheeks.  I left.

Leaving is hard. So hard.