Papi December 2019

People ask me why Colombia. The short answer is that Colombia, with its accent and its warm people, provides one of the best places to understand and practice the Spanish language. The long answer is Papi.

Papi is Dan’s dad, my best friend from high school and roommate at Uni. Papi is my pops too. At my first Passover seder, when I was 16, Papi sat me right next to him at the head of the table and shared the readings with me throughout. He winked at me as (wide-eyed) I read out loud the deliverance of the Israelites from slavery. When I popped by to see Dan after school one day, I opened their front door to find Papi and Miss Lily slow dancing in their living room. I made a mental note that day of what romance looks like. Papi set me on a very, very long journey towards fiscal responsibility after I accepted absolutely every credit card offer that came my way that first year at Uni. He didn’t use warm language, but that only helped the message.

Papi is Colombian. So I have always known I would visit Papi’s country one day.

A few days ago I was on a crowded local bus, 20 seater, max, climbing a steep hill in Commun 8, Medellin. The hill was so steep, we all felt like the bus would flip over backwards and tumble back down the way we came. The bus stops at an awkward 45 degree angle and a man boards through the back doors with a 3 year old in his arms. Without missing a beat, a seated woman stretches out her arms and he places his child in hers and then walks up to the front to pay. He returns and stares straight ahead while the 3 year old stays playing in the woman’s lap until he alights at his stop. Neither the man nor the woman exchanged words, just a nod or two. They clearly didn’t know each other, and in fact the woman continued to speak with another woman seated next to her the whole time. This is the warmth of community; this is the warmth of Colombians, and this is the warmth of Papi.