The clouds clear once I step off the plane into the Panama City airport. There are plenty of shops and bright signs, so much so that it hardly looks different than a small US airport. And then I glance up looking for my gate sign and I see the word "Salas." I do a double take, not entirely sure why it is that I don't immediately understand that word. It clicks...I'm no longer in the US...and I smile. During my layover I go grab some dinner and a drink and people speak to me in Spanish...like its normal. Love it. Even as I sat at my gate I had two (count it, *two*) people ask me, in Spanish, to watch their luggage while they use the restroom. Then another person who comes to sit by me makes a comment to me about the flight (also in Spanish). I begin to wonder if they think I could actually be one of them...a flattering concept.
Walking into that airport is frankly the best thing that has happened to me since the last time I left the US. Don't get me wrong, I'm all proud to be an American and all that, but there is something about being in a foreign country that makes me feel like I sucked in a breath of clean air. It soothes my mind, clears my troubles and puts everything into perspective.
The flight to Cartagena was much more enjoyable. I was somehow placed in first class next to an older, very handsome Colombian. I ordered myself a glass of wine and when they turned off the cabin lights my very attractive travel companion turned on the reading light for me. Waaaayyy better than the screaming kid. :)
Love your here!
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