Eleven Signs I May Be Turning Colombian
- Anytime I sit somewhere, I immediately look for a place to put my bag other than the floor. Everyone knows the floor’s bad luck.
- Water is great and all, but, juice.
- I almost said “jueputa” (expletive) to a work contact on the phone this week when I heard something that wasn’t what I was hoping to hear. I blame the costeños for this.
- 90 degrees = long pants and possibly sneakers
- Similarly, I feel uncomfortable if I leave the house without some makeup and at least a pair of earrings, even if I’m just jumping on a bus to practice.
- I don’t buy more than one of anything at the grocery store because I’ll just go back.
- Why would I walk and eat this empanada on the way to wherever when I can stand on the corner for a few minutes and enjoy it?
- I haven’t actually done this but I occasionally have the urge to cross myself when I walk or drive by a church…
- Sometimes I forget U.S. body language. Very often I forget English words for things. Juiciosa and tranquila don’t translate well, anyway.
- Anytime I see a gringo (and it’s not someone I know) my head whips around and I stare.
- I took a bus ten blocks today because it seemed too far to walk.
And 4 Signs I am definitely NOT Colombian:
- I still refuse to drink that syrupy brown filth known as Pony Malta.
- I can make any ATM transaction in ten minutes or less.
- I’m punctual. I just am.
- I openly admit that I like Shakira.