It was roughly six in the morning when I finally made my way out of the El Dorado airport and into the piercingly cool morning air of Bogotá. Even though it was very early in the morning, the sky was already waking up to a new day. The first thing I noticed was the mountains. They decorated the horizon and stretched out for miles – a beauty my eyes were fixated on during the long ride to my apartment. 

View of the mountains in Bogotá from my room! I still can’t believe this was the view I would wake up to every morning.

Solo Travel + Language 

After arriving at my apartment, I quickly succumbed to sleep only to wake up with a deep ache of homesickness. The reality of spending over two months in a new place, speaking a language I barely knew, began to set in. Navigating Bogotá alone during those first two weeks was daunting. I’d walk to Javeriana University to work on my project, but I avoided exploring the city, often wasting time in my apartment, glued to my phone, or staring at the mountains. Eventually, I pushed myself to visit nearby shops and grocery stores (fun fact: milk and eggs aren’t refrigerated here) and began feeling more grounded with each passing day.

Learning to navigate the streets was one thing, but navigating the language was a whole different story. The phrases ‘no entiendo’ and ‘otra vez’ became part of my everyday vocabulary, which I relied on at restaurants or during project meetings. However, despite these struggles, I grew more comfortable with the Spanish language through frequent conversations with my community partners (+ Google Translate), who were always patient. 

The Earthquake

Just as I was settling into the groove of my life in Bogotá, I woke up one morning to my whole room shaking. It took me a minute to process that I was experiencing my first earthquake. My adrenaline quickly took control as I ran out of my room and onto the street filled with people. Everyone was dazed and confused as we waited for the earthquake to subside before we entered our apartment again. The magnitude 6.3 earthquake definitely rattled me emotionally and physically, but now I reminisce about it.

All About Bogotá (+ Cartagena)

Bogotá is the perfect destination to escape the hot Texas summer. With its steady year-round temperatures in the 50 – 60°F and the occasional drizzle, I quickly fell in love with the crisp, cool weather. Every day felt like sweater weather! One of the first things I noticed was how early the sun rises and sets (grateful for blackout blinds 🙏🏻). By dawn, the city is already alive: people heading to work, walking their dogs, or getting in a morning workout. Bogotá even has dedicated lanes down the center of major roads for runners and cyclists, and on Sundays, entire streets are closed off just for them.

Roads are closed on Sunday mornings for anyone who wants to bike, walk, or run.

In addition to this active lifestyle, the city’s social atmosphere is equally warm and welcoming. It’s common for strangers to greet you with a simple ‘buenas’ wherever you go. From Uber drivers to bookshop employees, I have received several amazing recommendations when it comes to exploring Bogotá and Colombia. One of my favorite spots in Bogotá has to be La Candelaria. La Candelaria is the heart of Bogotá – the historic center that is bustling with street vendors, tourists, and musicians. La Candelaria is also home to several amazing museums, of which Museo de Botero and MAMBO are my favorites. 

Outside of La Candelaria, one of my most physically demanding adventures was hiking Monserrate. Bogotá’s high altitude was no joke; I could feel it with every step as I climbed nearly two miles with an elevation gain of around 2,900 meters. The air was thin, my legs ached, and the path seemed endless. However, reaching the summit made it all worth it. From the top, the view of Bogotá sprawled beneath me, a breathtaking patchwork of mountains, buildings, and sky. I ended the day sampling unfamiliar fruits like feijoa, zapote, and maracuyá – each offering a new taste of Colombia’s richness and diversity.

View of the center of Bogotá from the top of Monserratte.

Escaping Bogotá, I truly enjoyed exploring the salt mines in Nemocón and the wonderful city of Cartagena. It was interesting to witness the vast salt mines that fueled Colombia’s economy and the history behind the development of these mines. On the other hand, I reveled in the sun at the beaches in Cartagena while dancing the night away at the historic Gestsemani neighborhood. I marveled at the Old City Walls that stretched for miles, protecting the neighborhood from pirate attacks in the past, and walked the lively streets dotted with musicians, shops, and restaurants. 

Monumento Torre del Reloj (left), which marks the entrance to Cartagena, and a plaza (right) filled with vendors and live music.

Foodie at Heart

Exploring Cartagena also meant indulging in the diverse food scene. The city offered me a medley of flavors: the tang of tart mussels, the tenderness of shrimp ceviche, the sweetness of coconut rice, and the chill of a coconut paleta. 

My travel buddy Alina and I devoured refreshing paletas (right), a perfect treat after our meal at La Mulata, an incredible seafood spot where I tried a dish called Camarones Mulatos (left).

Bogotá didn’t disappoint when it came to food, either. Traditional Colombian dishes, such as ajiaco and tamal, grew on me, and I came to appreciate how fresh yet hearty the meals were. In addition to local food, Bogotá offers a wide variety of international cuisine. Alina and I have explored Indian, Japanese, Thai, Mexican, Italian, American, and Greek cuisine. Each restaurant offered its own distinct flavors, with some adding a Colombian twist—like Vitto, an Italian spot that creatively incorporated plantain into its pasta.

It didn’t take long for me to notice that Colombia’s flavors extend far beyond the plate. Nearly every restaurant we visited offered unique drinks, and somewhere along the way, I made it my mission to find the best mango juice in the country. Quero Arepa in Cartagena claims the top spot in my book — sweet, smooth, and almost too good to be real — followed closely by Vitto in Bogotá, whose juice was just as refreshing. Alongside my juice-tasting journey, I’ve also grown accustomed to the steady rhythm of Colombian coffee, each cup rich and grounding, fueling long days and slow mornings alike. Tinto, Colombia’s bold black coffee, kept me going through long days in Usme, while the fragrant Matcha Chai became my quiet fuel during hours of project planning.

Raíces Futuras: My Project in Usme, Bogotá

My Loewenstern project focuses on promoting the work of urban gardeners while passing down oral history about plant and environmental care to younger generations in the rural Bogotá district of Usme. To get there, I navigated the city’s transportation system—first taking the Transmilenio to the 20 de Julio portal, then boarding an Alimentador bus that connects to various Usme neighborhoods. Public transportation is widely used in Bogotá, efficiently linking urban and rural areas at a relatively low cost.

Buses can get very busy, especially during rush hours.

During my first visit to Tihuaque, a neighborhood in Usme, I was immediately struck by the contrast between the area, central Bogotá, and the U.S. The streets were noticeably narrower, winding along steep inclines, and the buildings – made of aluminum, concrete, and brick—felt more densely packed. Frequent rain left the roads muddy, and the colder weather added to the rugged atmosphere. Yet despite these differences, the view from the heights of Usme was breathtaking: golden light filters through the clouds, casting a soft glow over a patchwork of colorful rooftops tucked into the lush green folds of the mountains.

Views of the mountains from Tihuaque, Usme.

Apart from the views, my favorite part of Usme would have to be the people. As I recall, upon my first interactions with elder farmers, I reminisce about the warmth they extended towards me. With each and every ‘huerta’ or garden I visited, I was greeted with tea, tinto, and/or a piece of soft bread. With each snack, followed a deep yet joyous conversation about the farmers’ work, struggles, and daily life. I have learned a lot about the community the farmers in Usme have built, the struggles of selling and growing their produce, and their zeal for environmentally sustainable practices. Each and every farmer had so much passion for their land and work that it made me more conscious of the waste I leave behind. 

A huerta of one of the huerteras (farmers) named Beatriz. She uses eggshells, food scraps, and earthworms to provide organic nutrients to her plants, avoiding chemicals.

Using what we’d learned, Alina and I designed interactive workshops on environmental sustainability for children. Our visits to Nueva Esperanza and El Domo in Usme quickly became some of my favorite memories. The kids would swarm us with questions about our lives in the U.S., our families, hobbies, and thoughts on Colombia—some even asked us to speak in English, giggling at our responses. Their curiosity was contagious. Through games, discussions, and hands-on activities, we explored sustainability and sparked interest in farming, a priority voiced by local elders. Watching students engage so joyfully with these ideas was incredibly rewarding. Saying goodbye to these students, knowing I may never speak with them again, is a difficult reality I’m still processing. However, this experience has only deepened my eagerness to build similar connections within my own community back in the U.S.

Conclusion 

As I reach the end of my trip, I feel extremely grateful for this journey of cultural and social exploration in addition to self-development. I believe that this trip has allowed me to view the world from a different lens and has allowed me to be more open-minded to trying new things and interacting with diverse people. My Loewenstern experience will be forever etched in my heart, and I cannot wait to share my story about this eye-opening experience with others. 

“I’m sorry, I just can’t let you in. I hope you all can understand where I’m coming from.”

Me and Valeria reorganizing and redistributing the items in my checked bag so its underweight.

Those were definitely NOT the words I imagined (or wanted) to hear on my very first night in Medellín. After a long travel day, nearly an hour’s drive from the airport and a 7ish hour flight from Texas, my travel buddy, Valeria, and I found ourselves standing outside the gate of our Airbnb. We scrambled as we tried to find a place to sleep for our first night in Colombia.

The security guard spoke fast and even with our combined Spanish skills, it was hard to get the full picture of what he was saying. The address had so many numbers (a very common feat here in Medellín) that I had completely skimmed over the fact that we were missing the actual apartment number (very much my bad). “Were we being scammed?” Was the first thought that crossed my mind. Thankfully, the next morning brought clarity: our host had just been asleep and the automated system to give us the information needed didn’t go through for whatever reason. We were finally let in relieved that this situation turned into a funny story to recall later instead of having to live at the office.

Even when first arriving at the airport, the shift was real. My suitcase was a tad overweight (oops), but thanks to a kind airline employee and some creative redistribution between my bag, Valeria’s, and our carry-ons, we made it work. Sitting at the gate, I overheard conversations all around me in Spanish. Me and Google Translate were about to get REAL close.

The Language Barrier

I grew up in bilingual classrooms up until high school, so I knew Spanish was still somewhere in me but I’ve been out of practice for a good while. But full immersion is a whole different game. I came into this knowing I’d probably need to sharpen my R-rolling skills if I wanted to get around with any confidence.

At first, I was quiet. Not because I didn’t have anything to say, but because by the time I translated what someone said and figured out how to respond, the conversation had already moved on. So I’d laugh, smile, or nod and hope it was the right reaction. I’ve had to get comfortable asking people to repeat themselves— or just admit when I don’t understand. Still, I can feel myself improving, and me and Valeria help each other out by conversing in Spanish when we’re out and about. I’ve come a long way, both from the day I accepted this fellowship back in December and from the moment I arrived in Medellín a few weeks ago.

City First Impressions

This is the view from the San Antonio metro stop! It’s very central to the city and many people pass through here everyday.

Medellín, at first glance, reminded me a lot of New York in the way how storefronts are small, densely packed, and spill right out onto the street. The city runs at its own pace: constant, lively, and always moving no matter what time of day it might be. There’s no A/C in most places (including our apartment), but you don’t really need it— the temperature hovers around a comfortable 70°F, so fans and rolled-down car windows do the trick most of the time. Most people get around by walking or using the metro, and on weekends, parts of the roads are even closed off so people can bike, run, or walk freely which is pretty neat.

Each area we’ve visited has its own vibe. Laureles is casual and tourist-friendly, with recognizable restaurants and coffee shops. El Poblado is louder— full of nightlife, tours, and a more intense energy. And then there’s La Candelaria, where our community partner is based, near the Universidad de Antioquia and el Jardín Botánico (the Botanical Garden). It feels more local, more lived-in with graffiti-covered walls and street vendors on every corner. The university itself is constantly buzzing, with classes running from 6 a.m. to 11 p.m. to fit students’ work schedules. You need a passport and a purpose to get in. Even then, it’s always packed— people working, talking, resting, just existing.

Motorcycles are everywhere. So are hills. The city is wrapped by barrios (neighborhoods) in the mountains, and the metrocable, a cable car system, makes it easy for those commuting from those barrios to the less elevated parts of the city. Because of these very uneven terrains, travelling to other major cities is most convenient when travelling by plane. One of the most unforgettable moments so far was our Uber ride to Cerro El Picacho, a gorgeous viewpoint overlooking the city. Our driver had to go backwards up and down steep, narrow roads, honking at every blind corner just to make it safely. It was both terrifying and honestly extremely impressive.

Looking out over the city of Medellin from Cerro El Picacho, a beautiful viewpoint, especially at night!

Me and Valeria’s first time shopping at Makro, a giant grocery store! It’s probably most similar to a Sam’s Club or Costco in the U.S.

The Daily Essentials

At first, we Ubered everywhere— even if it was just a few blocks away. We were such scaredy cats, but it felt justifiable at the time as prices range from $1-5 USD. Plus, the sun sets early in Medellín— around 6 pm— and we weren’t exactly eager to be out exploring unfamiliar streets in the dark. Grocery runs were their own adventure. We started off buying huge jugs of water, only to later learn that Medellín’s tap water is actually some of the cleanest in the entire country. You also have to bring your own grocery bags and bag everything yourself— something that caught us off guard the first time. At the stores, there are almost always alternatives for unhealthy foods— plus, there are labels on everything that warn you if it’s high in sodium, sugar, or fat. The city is full of food markets, street vendors, and people selling everything from snacks to fresh fruit from carts or makeshift setups on the corners. If you order delivery, you’re probably using Didi or Rappi (their version of Uber Eats or DoorDash) and your deliverer is 100% on a motorbike!

The typical Colombian dish! Protein, beans, rice, egg, plantain, an arepa, and a slice of avocado (if you’re lucky!)

Comuna 13 & Colombian Cuisine

One of the most memorable days so far was our visit to Comuna 13— a neighborhood once known as one of the most dangerous in the world, now transformed into a hub of street art, music, and resilience. We toured the area with a local guide who had lived through its darkest times and told us he had lost about 30% of his family (similar to others there) to the violence that once ruled the streets due to its prime location for transporting drugs. The stories were heavy, but the energy in the neighborhood today is full of life and color. Because of the landscape, there’s solar-powered outdoor escalators that help carry people up the steep hillside to their homes, and instead of major grocery stores (because the closest one is usually a 40 minute commute down), people often have mini-grocery stores in their homes! All the homes are typically made of the same orange brick material, which is one of the cheapest yet strongest available!

I was super excited to learn we would eat their way through the tour— I tried a buñuelo (a dough with crispy outside filled with cheese), an empanada (crispy corn pastry-like thing with sausage), a patacón con hogao (flat fried plantain with tomato paste), and a very refreshing mango popsicle (yum!). Traditional Colombian meals have their rhythm: red beans, rice, a simple salad, plantain, a protein, and an arepa— always accompanied by a limeade or some type of juice. Water, surprisingly, is rarely included and usually costs extra. Around La Candelaria, near our community partner, most restaurants and food stalls are cash-only, which we’ve learned the hard way. One day we came up $7,000 COP short (about $1.73 USD), and I had to do the “walk of shame” back to our community partner’s office to borrow money while Valeria waited behind at the restaurant (whose limeade cost exactly $7,000 COP by the way).

The escalator inside the Comuna 13 neighborhood powered by solar panels on top

View of the barrios (neighborhoods) in Comuna 13

Famous mural in Comuna 13 made during the time of Operation Orion in 1993. It was a symbol for leaving violence behind in the past and heading towards a better future.

La Piedra in Guatapé

La Piedra, the infamous rock in Guatapé with over 700 steps to get to the top

Our first real interaction with other tourists came during a weekend trip to Guatapé, a colorful town a couple of hours outside of Medellín. We took a boat ride across the reservoir to La Manuela, one of Pablo Escobar’s former estates, now partially destroyed. The stories we heard there were surreal— like how his bathroom was blown up in a police raid, or how money was once hidden in the walls. The highlight came after another boat ride to La Piedra del Peñol— a massive granite rock with over 700 steps carved into its side. On the other side of the rock, you can see the partial letters “GU” (meant to eventually spell “GUATAPE”) from a land dispute between Guatape and El Peñol, a neighboring town, about who is the rightful owner of La Piedra. Turns out none of them were because after their fight over the matter, the rock was deemed property of Colombia. Anywho, the climb to the top was brutal, but the view at the top was insane. If you ever find yourself in Medellín, Guatape is definitely worth the pit stop!

The view from the top of La Piedra in Guatapé!

Preparing for teaching in a class on renewable resources using circuits!

Working at Pygmalion Tech

I was thrown straight into learning about renewable resources— a topic I definitely had to brush up on. But I figured, if the kids could learn it, so could I. At Pygmalion, lessons center around “Conexión, Experimento y Reflexión,” and every session we teach kids kicks off with the same chant:

“Buenos días, amiguitos! ¿Cómo están? ¡Muy bien!

Este es un saludo de amistad. ¡Qué bien!

Haremos lo posible para ser buenos amigos. ¡Buenos días, amiguitos! ¿Cómo están? ¡Muy bien!”

Me and Valeria spent an entire afternoon quizzing each other on the lyrics. One of our sessions took place at Parque Arví, about an hour and a half drive out, where the views were breathtaking and the students were curious and engaged. The younger groups were easier to connect with, while the older ones took a little more effort. I was mostly on the sidelines, assisting and observing, but I’ll admit I was nervous the kids would catch on to the fact that their Spanish was stronger than mine but that luckily hasn’t been the case… yet. Afterward, we took the Metrocable back down, giving us a stunning overhead view of the city. It’s crazy to me that so many take this trip on the daily!

Now, we’re working more on research— looking at different competitors to help Pygmalion grow its impact and stay ahead in the world of ed-tech. The first week left me exhausted, not just from adjusting to a new routine, but from operating entirely in Spanish. But it’s definitely a learning process: now we’ve made various reports, presentations, and spreadsheets all in Spanish (so I’d say that’s progress)!

The view from the metrocable!

Reflecting and My Future in Medellín

Coming into this fellowship, I had a few clear goals: immerse myself in a new culture, contribute meaningfully to a social impact project, improve my Spanish, and generally just push myself outside beyond my comfort zone. This opportunity was a big one for me and brought about a lot of firsts. It’s my first time living on my own, my first real internship, and my first time traveling abroad. When I got the acceptance (which I wasn’t really expecting), my first thought was, “There’s no way I can actually say yes to this, right?” I was admittedly pretty terrified at the thought of going somewhere so emotionally and physically foreign at first. But the pre-departure course along with my travel buddy has helped ease my nerves and has shown me that I’m fully capable— of learning, contributing, and growing in this space. Looking ahead, I’m hoping to keep challenging myself: make new friends, try cooking different foods at our Airbnb, and soak in every experience— starting with a trip to Cartagena next week!!

Me, Valeria, and Owen (a friendly face from Rice) on a boat!

At the end of the day, I’m so grateful for this opportunity and all the people who are a part of it. I can’t wait to continue growing and making memories through the rest of this fellowship!!

I’m happy to talk more about my experience at dfc5@rice.edu or dacolon17@gmail.com

A bare-faced ibis outside our Airbnb (not quite a toucan but I’m sure this fella is friends with one!)

Until then, I will be on the search for a toucan! Ciao! 🇨🇴

This summer, I spent 10 weeks abroad in the City of Eternal Spring, Medellín, Colombia. During this time, my days varied greatly, but one thing remained consistent: nearly every day began and ended on the metro. The metro took me everywhere I needed to go and everywhere I wanted to be. On lucky days, I found a seat; on others, I was packed tightly among fellow commuters. Some mornings, I boarded yawning and weary, longing to still be in bed. Other mornings, I could hardly contain my excitement about the day ahead. In the evenings, I frequently boarded feeling exhausted, struggling to keep my eyes open. From time to time, I was drenched from the unpredictable rain that no weather app could forewarn. Sometimes, I boarded with a smile on my face; other times, with tears in my eyes. I often think that if anyone could tell the story of my time abroad better than I could, it would be the metro—if only it could speak.

Medellín Metro Rail

The Medellín Metro has been the gateway to many great adventures in the city, while also reliably ensuring my safe arrival to my Loewenstern Placement on workdays. My commute this summer was quite extensive. It began with a Metro bus ride to the rail station, followed by a 10-stop journey on Line A through the heart of the city. After disembarking, a short walk took me to the office. Of course, I always made sure to stop by the nearby bakery for breakfast before heading into work. I had a fantastic experience working with my placement at Pygmalion Tech. My primary responsibilities involved developing two Python courses: one designed to introduce students to programming and another aimed at teaching adults the basics of data science. These projects were a great opportunity for me to refine my skills and improve my ability to communicate complex ideas effectively, which was both challenging and deeply rewarding. I found that my lengthy commute provided the perfect time to brainstorm and revise my course content. On several occasions, I rushed from the metro to work to jot down the plethora of ideas that I feared I would forget.

Bakery Near My Placement

Beyond facilitating my daily commutes, the Medellín Metro also marked the start and end of many adventures. One of the most memorable was the long and winding bus ride to the trailhead of a popular hike in the Medellín countryside. I vividly recall struggling to keep my balance while standing on the moving bus, gripping the support bars with all my might, and doing my best to avoid falling onto the strangers who would soon become friends. Thanks to social media, I was able to connect with a group of locals who organized weekly excursions and joined them for my first hike on the outskirts of Medellín. We met at one of the Metro rail stops and traveled together to the trailhead. During our hike to El Chorro de las Campanas, the breathtaking waterfall that was our ultimate destination, I enjoyed wonderful conversations with my new companions. This experience was one of the first that made me feel less isolated in Medellín, the warmth of the people was quite different from the chill of the waterfall. Swimming in the refreshing waters was a soul-cleansing experience, and that evening, I boarded the metro rail, covered in mud, exhausted, but so incredibly happy.

El Chorro de las Campanas

Another adventure the metro facilitated was my journey to Comuna 13, a neighborhood in Medellín with a complex yet inspiring history. Once considered the most dangerous part of the city due to paramilitary, guerrilla, and gang violence, it has now become one of the city’s most popular tourist attractions, celebrated for its powerful and historical street art. I was fortunate to take a tour with a local resident who had lived in Comuna 13 his entire life. He shared his personal experiences of living through the area’s tumultuous past and narrated the remarkable transformation of the community through creativity. Visiting this historically rich area and hearing from a local so proud of his neighborhood’s evolution was an incredibly eye-opening experience.

Comuna 13

A unique experience the Medellín Metro offers is the metro cable system. Two of these cables serve as the main transportation to another one of Medellín’s top attractions, Parque Arví. The views from the metro cables are breathtaking, offering a stunning panorama of Medellín as you ascend higher and higher. However, they are not for the faint of heart—the cables go so high that your ears start to pop. Parque Arví itself is a stunning escape from the city, though in a city as vibrant as Medellín, it’s hard to imagine wanting to escape. I spent hours sitting in silence by the running water and dipping my feet in the streams of Parque Arví. I loved it so much that I brought a few Loewenstern fellows back with me.

Parque Arví

Of my countless experiences on the metro, my greatest memory is one of simply standing in the metro rail car on the night of July 10th. There was nothing extraordinary about this night, yet everything was special. When I hopped onto the train that evening, I was immediately brought to tears. I looked around, and almost everyone on that train was wearing the same color—a bright yellow that was hard to look at for too long, but even harder to look away from. The shirts had touches of blue and red, all jerseys for the Colombian national soccer team who were playing that night in the Copa America games, with their fate of reaching the final on the line.

The sight made me emotional in ways I couldn’t fully explain. To put it simply, I was wearing the same colors, the same jersey, and in that moment, I felt a profound connection to this community, sharing their excitement, pride, and joy for the national team. I was on my way to watch the game, hoping for a victory for Colombia. Although I had never been a huge soccer fan, I found myself deeply invested in this team’s success. I am Mexican to the core, but that night I was all in for Colombia.

Being surrounded by such a passionate community made it impossible not to cry. I would not trade my time on the metro for anything in the world, and I am profoundly grateful to have spent a summer in Medellín where these unforgettable moments were made possible for me.

Copa America Watch Party

Arrival into Colombia

As soon as I landed in Bogotá, the reality of being in a country where less than 1% of people speak English quickly set in. The fact that just about everything was labeled in Spanish added to my initial nervousness, and the size of the El Dorado airport, one of the largest in South America, didn’t help either. However, this nervousness was quickly eased by the friendly driver who picked me up. This car ride was my first real experience speaking exclusively Spanish, and after we introduced ourselves for a bit, he asked if I had ever heard of Vallenato. Admitting that I hadn’t, he then introduced me to some of his favorite music, Vallenato being a traditional genre from northern Colombia where he was from.

Unrefrigerated Eggs and Milk in Carulla (kind of like a Colombian Whole Foods)

The next morning before our meeting with the community partner, Meghan Paral (the other Loewenstern Fellow in Bogotá) and I decided to do some quick grocery shopping, where I was surprised to see that eggs and milk weren’t refrigerated. The first of many interesting differences between the US and Colombia. Later that day, at Pontificia Universidad Javeriana, which was the community partner we’d be working with, our mentor Dr. Diego Patiño explained the tasks and goals for this summer placement. He also encouraged us to use long weekends and holidays to explore Colombia and gave us a lot of flexibility, allowing us to develop the project how we wanted as well as visit many parts of the country.

The kind family that took me and Meghan out for dinner

I did feel a little homesick in the beginning, especially knowing I would be in Colombia for the next several months. Luckily, these feelings disappeared pretty quickly by staying connected to my family through FaceTime calls and sending pictures to them just about every day. The busy schedule of working on the project, preparing and submitting my medical school applications, and exploring the country definitely helped a lot as well. A couple of days after landing, we decided to visit the Museo del Oro in Bogotá. There, we met a group of professors from a local university who kindly recommended places to visit and things to do in the city. Later that day at the museum, I saw an Indian family and decided to strike up a conversation about what brought them to Colombia. They said they loved traveling and had explored much of South America, and we had a great time talking about their past travels and future plans in Colombia. A couple of days later, they treated me and Meghan to dinner, which was really nice of them. This was just the beginning of many such great encounters throughout the trip.

Kuisa

Riding on the roof of a pickup truck on the way from Kuisa to Riohacha

In the small village of Kuisa, located in the La Guajira District of Colombia, lies a school that PUJ Bogotá is working with to introduce various technologies, such as solar panels and access to computers and tablets. Traveling there was an adventure in itself. The journey involved a plane ride from Bogotá to Riohacha, followed by a four-hour car ride to Uribia, the indigenous capital of Colombia, and another four-hour drive on dirt “roads” to Kuisa. During our first trip back, we experienced a flat tire, causing us to arrive at the airport just 20 minutes before our flight’s departure. On our second trip, there was a lack of space in the pickup truck since there were a lot of things stored in the truck bed, so some of us rode on the roof. The unexpectedness eventually became something to expect.

Sunset in Kuisa

In Kuisa, our days started early with the sun rising around 5:30 am, and we had breakfast around 6:30 am before the school day, which usually ran from 7:00 am until 12:30 pm. After lunch, nearly everyone would take a nap, a practice I grew to enjoy. There also weren’t any beds, instead everyone used hammocks. Afternoons were spent either talking with the teachers to better understand the schooling system or exploring the area around Kuisa with the kids, which included a nice trip to the nearby lagoon. We’d have dinner after sundown, and due to the scarcity of clean water, we often drank chicha (a fermented corn drink) or bottled soda. I probably drank more Coca-Cola in those weeks than I had in my entire life.

Laguna De Kuisa and surrounding mountains

At the school in Kuisa, we conducted various workshops and activities. Our first visit was fortunate to have internet connectivity, but by our second visit, the internet tower had broken, and they weren’t sure when it would be repaired. Thankfully, the previous Loewenstern Fellow, Caleb Huang, had downloaded several interactive science and math tools that didn’t require internet access. These tools were a hit with the students, many of whom had never used computers before. Watching their faces light up as they explored these new tools was incredibly rewarding, and some students enjoyed them so much that they even asked to use the computers during their free periods. We also hosted workshops about teamwork for the younger students, one of which was a competition to see which team could build the tallest tower using straws. They seemed to enjoy this a lot, and the candy we brought as prizes added to their enjoyment.

Learning about the indigenous Wayuu culture was another highlight for me. During our second visit, Señor Adelco, who is the leader of the community, taught me about the traditional Wayuu religion. He shared that the lagoon and mountains around Kuisa were believed to contain spirits, and it was common practice to make offerings to promote prosperity. Although he mentioned that everyone in Kuisa is Catholic, these were some of the ancient beliefs of his culture. As a religion major, this conversation was particularly meaningful to me. Drawing parallels between this form of spirit veneration with Shinto in Japan and various tribal faiths in India deepened my appreciation for indigenous religions.

Exploring Colombia

Visiting Cartagena with Melissa and Alec (the Loewenstern Fellows placed in Medellín)

Exploring Colombia outside Bogotá and Kuisa was just as enriching as my experiences in those places. I had the opportunity to visit several major cities, each with its own unique charm, including Medellín, the coastal cities of Cartagena, Barranquilla, and Santa Marta, as well as Riohacha.

In Medellín, I had the chance to spend several days with the Quillacinga and Los Pastos indigenous groups, and learning about their traditional medicine was fascinating. The tribe’s deep understanding of nature was evident as each tree and plant had a particular use, and they’d just pick fruits off the trees to share them with me. Their extensive knowledge of natural remedies and their connection to the environment was truly inspiring, giving me an insight into the way humans have lived for thousands of years. Traveling to Cartagena and the nearby cities, Meghan and I met with Melissa and Alec, the other Loewenstern fellows who flew in from Medellín. In these coastal cities, the vibe was completely different, and we spent a lot of time visiting the beach and late-night bar hopping.

Looking over the city of Bogotá from the summit of Monserrate

One of my favorite activities during our travels was climbing mountains. I climbed Monserrate in Bogotá several times, Cerro de las Tres Cruces in Medellín, and a random mountain near Kuisa, guided by the local kids. This mountain in Kuisa, referred to as Uchi, was particularly challenging to climb since there was no path like the other mountains, just clearings between the thorny bushes and cacti. The views from the tops of all of them were breathtaking, and I would spend upwards of an hour or two just listening to music and enjoying the natural beauty from there.

Everywhere we went, I noticed that people were pretty curious about my background. When I mentioned I lived in the United States, the follow-up question was almost always, “But where are you really from?” I actually liked it a lot because it was a way to share my Indian culture. Many people were fascinated by the food that Indians ate, and when I told them that 30% of the country is vegetarian, they were pretty surprised. Sharing Indian music with the locals was also a joy, and I was surprised to see just how pervasive Indian culture was. In the big cities, there were always Indian restaurants, but even in the village of Kuisa, one of the school teachers liked watching Indian TV shows dubbed in Spanish, and Señor Adelco was looking at Facebook on his phone when I was pleasantly surprised to hear a song from the famous Bollywood movie “3 Idiots.”

Homemade Coconut Egg Curry

I liked exploring Colombian cuisine, from meals like Ajiaco, Sancocho, and Mojarra to street food like Patacones con Queso, Arepas, Obleas, Limonada de Coco, and mangos with lemon and salt. I did cook a decent amount too, and the affordability of produce encouraged me to cook even more. I often cooked salmon since it was easy to make, and when I craved Indian food, I’d make egg curry using fresh coconuts. Cracking open the coconut and using the stove to separate the inside from the shell was always fun. Near where we were staying in Bogotá’s Zona G, there was also a lot of international cuisine, so we often went out for sushi, Indian food, burgers and pizza, Greek food, and so, so many desserts.

Lunch with students and faculty from Rice University and PUJ Bogotá, including Dr. César Uribe and Dr. Diego Patiño

Conclusion

Reflecting on my time in Colombia, I understand how profoundly this experience has impacted me. From the busy cities of Colombia to the serene village of Kuisa, every encounter deepened my appreciation for different peoples’ ways of life. The challenges faced throughout my time here, such as missing flights, dealing with dietary restrictions, the scarcity of water in Kuisa and the water being shut off weekly in our apartment, and the intermittent internet access, were all surpassed by innumerable positives. Babysitting and playing with Kashi, Señor Adelco’s granddaughter, teaching bird calls to the kids in La Guajira, stargazing in Kuisa, seeing the football games being streamed on every TV in the apartment building across the street in Bogotá, enjoying the amazing fruits and food, and most importantly meeting all the wonderful people here made this journey truly unforgettable. The level of independence I gained and learning to embrace the situation when things didn’t go my way were just some of the many takeaways for me as I spent my summer in this beautiful country. As I move forward, I carry these lessons I’ve learned and the memories I’ve made, grateful for the chance to immerse myself in Colombia’s vibrant and diverse culture.

Siddhant and I arrived in Colombia on the 21st of May with a struggling knowledge of Spanish, clothes for every season, and an acceptable amount of trepidation for the coming summer. It was our first time setting foot on the South American continent, and I was insufficiently prepared to be unprepared for all that I didn’t know.

Our community partner, Pontificia Universidad Javeriana, has been wonderful and gracious, offering us the opportunity to self-direct our project with the school Nuestra Señora del Carmen Zona de Kuisa in La Guajira. We were granted an amount of agency over everything from the schedules of our working hours to our travels that I had never experienced before. At first, the idea of such independence, as someone who greatly appreciates structure, was nerve-wracking; however, the more we tested the waters of spontaneity and self-sufficiency, the easier and more enjoyable it became.

The stars in Kuisa – notice: what looks like the setting sun is actually the moon! It’s unbelievably bright without urban light pollution.

Last week, we traveled for the second time to the community of Kuisa in rural La Guajira, Colombia. This requires a flight from Bogotá to the city of Riohacha, a four-hour drive from Riohacha to Uribia, and another four-hour drive from the nearest urban center of Uribia to Kuisa. At night, the absence of light pollution means the multitude of stars are indescribable, creating a startlingly beautiful backdrop to an already awe-inspiring setting of mountains and desert vegetation. One afternoon, Siddhant suggested climbing the nearest mountain, and on that whim, we set off on a three-hour hike to climb a mountain on the horizon without a trail.

The view from atop the mountain – In Wayuunaiki, the language spoken by the Wayuu people, mountain is uchi

Sure, I was impaled by a few cacti along the way, but it was more than worth it. The walk there, stopping every so often to see a new bird or lizard, hearing about Wayuu culture from the kids who came along, and sitting atop the boulders implanted in the side of the mountain, overlooking the “trail” or lack thereof that we’d taken to get there. It was, I think, a cumulative metaphor of all that had occurred during our experience in Colombia, although I didn’t realize it at the time. We were, more or less, hiking without a trail this whole summer. There had been challenging situations and periods of discomfort, and yet, I found myself sitting at the top of the mountain more adaptable and comfortable with the discomfort – grateful, in one way or another – for every experience.

That being said, I do think that one thing in particular helped me stay grounded in the midst of lacking a certain structure that I had become accustomed to back home: birds! Colombia, you may be aware,

From upper right to bottom left: Eared Dove, Tropical Mockingbird, Scaled Dove, Great Egret, American Flamingo, Vermilion Flycatcher, Rufous Collared Sparrow, Sparkling Violetear

is host to more species of birds than any other country on Earth, at over 1,900. We barely scratched the surface of that incredible quantity, but here are some of the incredible individuals that we did manage to spot:

There’s a lot of joy to be found in seeing a species for the first time, and for that reason, a lot of people search for birds that are endemic to the country that they are visiting. That being said, I think there’s a lot of slept-on happiness to uncover when seeing a bird for the zillionth time in a new location. The house sparrow, for example, can be found in as broad a range as eastern Australia, Argentina, India,

Iceland, South Africa, and, where I associate it with most, my home. That being said, they aren’t particularly common in Colombia, so spotting a perfectly spherical little guy hopping his way across the table in a restaurant in Riohacha took me by surprise. Finding a house sparrow in Riohacha meant finding a little piece of home in Colombia, and, after spending ten weeks abroad, that was a poignant gift.

As our journey in Colombia draws to a close, I am filled with a deep sense of gratitude for the experiences we’ve had and the people we’ve met. The lessons learned, both expected and unexpected, have shaped me in ways I couldn’t have imagined. From the independence and spontaneity we embraced to the natural and avian wonders we discovered, this summer has been an adventure. I leave Colombia with a lot of memories, a newfound appreciation for flexibility, and an enduring connection to a place that, for a brief but impactful time, felt like home.

Thank you to Siddhant for photos!

Hi all! For my post, I made a video that captured a day in my life here in Bogotá, view it here!

I’m currently on my 5th week in Medellín, and it’s been quite an amazing experience so far! When I first arrived here, Medellin was just another city, but after a few weeks of learning and exploration, I’ve realized that this is a very special place with a fascinating history.

El Poblado 

During my first week, I started off by visiting a castle and gardens in the luxurious El Poblado district, known as the commercial center of the city. It was once the house of the physician José Tobón Uribe until 1943 when industrialist Diego Echavarría Misas bought the house for his family. The inside of the castle contained beautiful antiques, paintings, and sculptures and there were panoramic views of the city from the windows. After my visit to the castle, I walked down a hill to the main square and explored the neighborhood. El Poblado was all very manicured—leafy boulevards, shiny malls, lavishly-decorated cafes and hotels. Though, I was told by locals that this did not represent the “real” Medellin—at least, not the city that the majority of the residents lived in.

Comuna 13 

I began to venture more outside of the wealthiest districts of the city. For instance, a couple of my fellow Rice students and I visited Comuna 13, a historically low-income, informal settlement that was originally occupied by rural migrants who had been displaced from their homes. The neighborhood’s residents were often caught in the crossfire between gangs, drug trafficking organizations, guerillas, and paramilitary groups. In the last 20 years, a government-sponsored re-development project and the construction of outdoor escalators has transformed the neighborhood into a safe tourist attraction with very little violence. Today, thousands of people visit Comuna 13 each day to view its colorful graffiti art, which was created by local artists as symbols of hope and resilience in the community. However, one could say that Comuna 13 is no longer the “real” Medellin either—as it is now overrun by souvenir shops and foreign visitors. There is also an argument to be made that the increasing tourism makes the residents of the neighborhood a spectacle—though it has also provided a large boon to the economy, promoting local businesses and the creation of jobs.

MetroCable 

Another memorable experience I’ve had so far is riding the Medellin Metro Cable, a public transportation service and gondola lift system. It was designed to connect low-income communities on the city’s steep hills to the Valley of Aburra, which includes the city center. Before the invention of the Metro Cable, some hillside residents in communities such as Santo Domingo spent nearly 3 hours commuting to work because of the lack of a convenient bus system. When the service began its operations in 2004, the Metro Cable improved the mobility of residents of mountainside communities and massively shortened their commutes to work. Many studies attribute the gondolas to reductions in crime and an increase in economic prosperity in areas near the MetroCable.

There are also spectacular views from the gondolas. From the last stop at Santo Domingo, I was able to see large parts of the city and the Andes mountains in the distance. I also enjoyed being able to look down and see houses, streets, basketball courts, food vendors, and graffiti. It was like getting a little slice of life from a bird’s eye view.

Bike Tour

A couple weeks ago, I decided to sign up for a 4-hour bike tour. It was a chaotic and strenuous ride—but, ultimately, it was incredibly rewarding. First, we biked up Cerro Nutibara, a steep hill in the middle of the city, that left me exhausted and out of breath. Luckily, there was a refreshing coconut drink once we got to the top.

One of my favorite parts of the tour was biking through Downtown, which was a surreal experience, since it was packed to the brim with people. Trying to bike through large crowds, motorcycles, cars, and street vendors was definitely a challenge, though it was a great way to experience the vibrance of the city center. We stopped right outside the main train station for a Colombian snack, and I got to eat this delicious arepa de chocolo, which is basically a fried corn tortilla with cheese on top.

Throughout the tour, I learned a lot about Medellin’s status as one of the world’s most innovative cities that has set many milestones for sustainable design and equitable urban planning in the last 25 years. Recently, miles of cycling lanes were added to streets across the city, including in both low-income and high-income areas. Medellin has also introduced a new initiative called ciclovia, in which they close one of the major roads, Avenida Poblado, on Sundays and open the street up entirely to pedestrians, bikers, and even roller skaters.

Conclusion 

It was interesting to see how perhaps Houston had much to learn from Medellin in terms of public transportation, infrastructure, and sustainable design. Medellin certainly still has a long way to go; in my experience, the bike infrastructure was not perfect—sometimes I was on the road with cars and a few times I had to swerve to avoid potholes—but I would say that it was still better than my biking experience in Houston.

Furthermore, while Medellin still has a significant amount of inequality, it was truly fascinating to see the transformation that the city has undergone only in the last couple decades. The MetroCable and the outdoor escalators, in particular, were some of the best examples of creative and equity-focused public transportation, and were both pretty incredible to witness in-person.

As of writing this, I have just completed my fifth week here in Medellin, Colombia. This experience was transformative, as I have seen remarkable changes within myself. The city itself is vibrant and full of life, with a rich history and culture that I have been eager to explore through museums, events, and restaurants. Of course, some challenges come with living in any new place—language barriers, cultural differences, and navigating unfamiliar streets—that can be daunting at times. But overall, I feel incredibly grateful for this opportunity to immerse myself in a new culture and way of life.

Since this is the first time I have traveled outside the United States without family and the primary language is not English, these stressors caused some pre-travel jitters. For weeks leading up to my flight, I tried to appease my nerves by teaching myself as much about the country as possible before my trip. (This comes from my mother, as we both, or at least try to, overprepare for anything.) I researched everything about the country, the city, and the specific neighborhood that I would be living in for the summer through the internet, social media, and talking to family, friends, and other people who had visited Colombia before. I also listened to more media in Spanish in hopes of easing the transition from primarily speaking English to Spanish outside my house. The measures taken helped me, but they failed to prevent the cumulation of these anxieties and more.

One of the anxieties I struggled with was switching dominant languages. Coming from a monolingual household, I struggled with accepting that no one in my family could help me with this mandatory switch. However, I did my best to prepare for it myself. Despite this, I have experienced some challenges. Some of my speaking anxiety stemmed from my limited vocabulary and not-so-perfect grammar. The limited vocabulary could be fixed by speaking more and learning slang and colloquialisms. However, grammatical issues could only be fixed through practice in speech. At first, my speaking anxiety prevented me from speaking freely. However, I was pleasantly surprised by how understanding people were of my speech. When I could clearly communicate, I marked those times as a little win for myself. Of course, there were times that I accidentally mispronounced a word and/or said a similar-sounding word with a completely different meaning. However, even during those times, the person I was talking to was usually empathetic and spoke clearly so that I could understand.

Though having an empathetic listener is normally the case, this will not always be the case. There would be times when a stutter, hesitation, or even my accent hinted to another person that Spanish wasn’t my primary language. Because of this, the other person would automatically switch to English if they knew, or act annoyed and stop talking to me altogether. For example, during my third week here, I took the wrong bus. It traveled to the downtown area of the city, which is in the opposite direction from where my apartment is located. When I noticed this, I attempted to talk to the bus driver, mentioning my concern about my current location and if the bus would go to my apartment or at least return to the station I entered from. However, the driver started shouting. In the noisy environment, I was unable to completely comprehend what the driver was saying. After two minutes of trying to understand what he was saying, he went quiet and ignored me. (I was eventually informed by a lady on the bus that if I continued sitting on the bus, it would return me to my intended location.)
In either case, I would feel a mix of emotions. I would start to second-guess myself, feel self-conscious about my skills, and begin to clam up. However, soon after those events, I would have to continue forward and push these negative feelings behind me instead of wallowing. These good and bad speaking experiences serve as learning experiences, and I realized early on that I could not just take the good without the bad. To see true progression, I had to embrace my flaws and strengths simultaneously.

Learning that lesson liberated me from the feeling of trying to speak perfect Spanish. Free from that suffocating feeling, I could work to improve myself through everyday conversations with my co-workers and passersby. Through fully embracing this immersive experience, I have gained a more adventurous and confident stature. Now, if there are events I would like to go to, I would go, not allowing my prior anxieties to continue dictating my decisions. I want to take a stroll around the neighborhood. Why not? I want to go to the local theater to watch a new movie. Sure, who is stopping me? (Of course, I would have to consider safety precautions as a solo traveler in these situations.) Contrary to my previous sentiment, which would constantly impede my personal exploration, this new way of thinking allows me to truly enjoy my time here.

Cable Car Experience

Last Train in Medellin

Visiting local universities: UPB

Now that I’m at the halfway point, reflecting on my progression since coming here has served as a great reminder of my personal and professional development. As I look forward to my future weeks here, I plan to keep an open mind and embrace every moment.

Meeting Dr. Cesar Uribe