Leaving Colombia doesn’t seem to be easy in many aspects. Emotionally, economically and even legally (?). When in the migration counter, you are asked many questions about the reasons of your trip, about the reasons of your previous trips, if you ever made one, and about when you are planning to get back. Anyway, it’s all part of the process.
And when you least expect it, departure time. Fortunately, I made it on time. Part of my lateness was that I was savoring what I knew I wouldn’t see in a long, long time: a Corral combo.
But in the end I made it into the plane, found my seat and tried to relax. Hours and hours of listening to the same songs over and over again, and watching the same five or six movies in different languages and captions.
Sleeping on a plane was a bit hard for me. If my closest friends are reading this, they might think that I am just talking BS right now, because if I can sleep on a bus in Barranquilla, I can sleep anywhere. However, that wasn’t the case. Maybe it was the feeling of sleeping on a chair or the excitement of traveling…who knows? I just couldn’t sleep well.
But finally, Paris. Yes, I know. Charles de Gaulle is not precisely Paris, but I will always think to myself that I was in Paris.
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