Once we had everything planned in our heads, my wife and I decided it was time to turn those plans into reality. We bought tickets for the Family G to visit Colombia in December, hoping to reconnect with relatives and fill the emotional void created by being so far away for so long. With excitement, we packed our bags lightly, anticipating the return trip would involve hauling gifts that would weigh down our suitcases. I couldn’t help but notice that women seem to require an entire suitcase just for makeup, but I kept my thoughts to myself.
Finally, the big day arrived! Celeste, our baby, seemed as excited as if she understood the kisses and hugs awaiting her from relatives who might not be her friends yet but already loved her deeply. It was as if she knew she’d get her first taste of Christmas treats like “natilla” and holiday cookies. Meanwhile, my wife and I braced ourselves for what we knew would be a long six-hour flight with a baby accustomed to the comfort of her crib.
The plane took off, leaving behind the incredible journey of migration that brought tears to our eyes—a reminder that vacations are but a brief respite in the grand scheme of life.
After six long hours of holding our restless baby on my lap, my wife, utterly exhausted, said, “Take her; I can’t anymore.” I took Celeste in my arms as we disembarked into Colombia’s intense heat—making me immediately regret my choice of clothing.
At the airport, my wife’s parents greeted us with tears of joy and bear hugs so powerful they could’ve cracked ribs. It was pure, unconditional love. We made our way to their cozy apartment, where the familiar aroma of home embraced us. Over glasses of wine and cookies that seemed to melt away months of longing, we truly felt like we had returned to where we belonged.
The next part of our plan was to visit Cali—my hometown, which my wife Diana has lovingly adopted as her own. We wanted to see the apartment we had worked so hard to acquire—a dream realized after countless struggles and sacrifices. Just as we were finalizing plans, one of my cousins enthusiastically announced, “We’re coming too!” What started as a simple trip quickly transformed into a full-blown family outing, with multiple relatives joining in. To accommodate everyone, my cousin rented a house near our new apartment, complete with a pool to enjoy the warm climate of over 25°C.
Our timing couldn’t have been better. The famous “Feria de Cali,” a festival held every year from December 25 to January 1, was in full swing, and we were ready to immerse ourselves in the festivities.
The drive from Bogotá to Cali was uneventful, aside from a flat tire that added some delay. When we finally arrived, exhausted but excited, we settled into our accommodations and decided to rest before diving into the celebrations.
And that’s when things started to unravel.
What I call “The Not-So-Vacations” began as soon as our plans to attend various festival events were derailed by clashing opinions and family disagreements. Every attempt to organize an outing ended in arguments or last-minute changes, leaving us frustrated and stagnant. When we finally made it to the heart of the festival, eager to see the dazzling lights and vibrant parades, the crowds were so overwhelming that all we could see were the stars above and the smoke from food vendors clogging the air. The packed streets made it impossible to move, let alone enjoy the experience.
The chaos only deepened the rift among family members, who ultimately decided to stay at the rented house, indulging in beer and wine in the comfort of their own space. Days passed without any significant plans materializing. We rang in the New Year together, but the collective disappointment of a festival overshadowed by crowds and discontent lingered in the air.
For me, however, there was a silver lining. Despite the mishaps, I cherished the opportunity to finally step foot in our apartment. Watching Celeste run through its rooms with uncontainable joy made it all worth it. She seemed to sense that this was her true home, built with love and effort, a sanctuary that no festival could compare to.
However, from my point of view, I was able to enjoy our long-awaited apartment. It was magical to see how Celeste ran as if she knew this was her true home and that the love we have built is not comparable to anything in the world. We reunited with our parents, brothers, nephews, and cousins, who filled our hearts with their love and affection. I met my precious nephew Aron, whose hair is the same striking color as his mother’s—”Passion Red.” We had the joy of baptizing Celeste, escaping the monotony, and spending precious days where laughter and delicious food were always abundant.
When the time came to return, we reflected on the trip. It was clear we had underestimated the importance of proper planning. Next time, we vowed to approach such situations with more structure and foresight.
But, as if to put an ironic twist on our journey, the entire family came down with the flu and fever as the New Year began. What awaited us was not the relaxation we had hoped for, but rather a sea of tissues and sleepless nights.
Still, there’s always a second—or even third—chance to make things right. Here’s hoping the next trip will be the one where everything finally goes according to plan.
Marlon G
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