After flying out of Lima, Peru we flew to Bogota, Columbia then onto Santa Marta on the coast. Brad found out about Santa Marta from a co-worker of his, and really it was everything we could of hoped for, perfect weather, perfect accommodations with pool and private beach access, and the perfect place to unwind and just relax after a somewhat stressful trip to Peru. It didn’t start out that way, however, as Brad had to frantically run through the Lima airport to try and find a mask (a nice lady gave him a used one she had) since Columbia Air failed to tell us we needed one (which up to this point we hadn’t needed masks for anything) until right before we were to take the shuttle to board our plane. Once in the Bogota airport we had to wait for our luggage, then stand in a customs’ line that was forever long, then drop our luggage, then wait in a long security line where I got stopped and practically stripped searched for a weapon I was carrying, but I was clueless because airport security was talking to me in Spanish and I don’t know a lick of Spanish. After I was searched, I just stood there like an idiot as they dumped out the contents of my backpack while continuing to spit out words in Spanish. They finally said the word scissors in English and the light bulb went off so I grabbed my backpack and removed my teeny tiny first aid/mending kit from an obscure inside pocket, and took out a teeny tiny pair of scissors (if you could even call them that) that were only made for cutting thread, and practically threw them at the lady because it was so ridiculous, I was so mad, and we were so late! Those baby thread-cutting things couldn’t even hurt a flea, and I wonder how many drug-smugglers and terrorists were skipping through the security line as they were trying to confiscate this dumb American woman’s dangerous weapon?! Anyway, by this time I was sure we missed our flight as we sprinted through the airport full-speed, desperately trying to find our gate (because everything’s in Spanish) as I’m yelling at Brad and telling him if we miss our flight I’m booking another one, NOT to Santa Marta, but to the good old US of A!! Well, we did make our flight because it was late, and everything turned out, although the whole ordeal did put me on edge for quite awhile especially when I found out that we were the only gringos in Santa Marta (no lie!) and NO ONE spoke English (I know, I’m a spoiled American!). That’s why Jamie, our cook, was a real blessing because we ate the best authentic food without ever leaving our Air B&B! Not only was Jamie a great cook but she cleaned the entire condo every day, and did a way better job than the cleaning people before we arrived! And yes, Jamie really didn’t speak English either, but that’s what three of our grown children were for (who are all fluent in Spanish), the child we were touching base with at the time became our translator, so it all worked out! And can I just add that the co-worker who recommended Jamie and our wonderful Air B&B, speaks Spanish, and his wife and her family are Columbian:) Santa Marta really was a beautiful place, I just won’t visit again until I learn Spanish, or am traveling with my adult children! Our Peru/Columbia adventure ended the same way it began, with an upgrade to first-class on our flight from Bogota to Atlanta. It was so nice to be on American soil again, and even with all our issues, there is no place I would rather be, and I truly feel blessed to have lived in this great country of ours!!!