8 years later...

18th of June 2009. This  is when we left Colombia...

11:30 pm in Amsterdam. I just came out of the movies and my tram passes in front of Anne's Frank house or her hiding place for some years as her real home was Southern in the city. I feel privileged. I have freedom that she only experienced for a short time. The sound of the carrillon on the Westerkerk that scared her family so much welcomes  me to write again. Recently I passed the  8 year mark of having left Colombia. I was beginning to write... celebrate... is it a celebration? Or is a commemoration... I think both.  The moment I stepped on that plain that took me to South Africa I lost me... or sort of. Has been 8 years of redefining me in the middle of harsh moments or amazing moments. Has been trials to keep my essence of  taking care of others when all around tells me to be harsher and just be selfish. Has been moments when I want to run back but now I ask run back to where...

After 8 years home is feeling this: The known sounds of the tram, metro and bus that I take every day. The smell of fritjes in the air. Wanting an ollieboellen in December to fight the dark month. The parents of Benjamin's friends at school becoming closer to what I call friends.My book  club as part of my social life where I found friendship in one of my favourite hobbies. My family in law feels my family and close friends are even closer in my heart.

I still volunteer, have my own small company in the weekends, work full time and  I am a mom and wife  but still I can sometimes give me the pleasure of Netflixing. I am dancing, having  dinner with friends, going on dates with Berend....

Hasn't been easy though... struggling every day with office politics and finding myself around in Dutch culture. I am Dutch now but sometimes feels I am far from integrated and other days I am surprised how no longer things surprise me of the culture and I embrace them with understanding and even with a sense of pride. Surprisingly sometimes to the point of defending it when someone says something not true of my second country.

Is hard to explain to the outsider. Being in Europe is considered  a dream. Most visitors and friends ask me if I am happy... and I can't really answer that question. My answer is I am living life... in a country that was not mine but is starting to feel like that. Is life with its ups and downs... sometimes with an incredible nostalgia of Colombia or South Africa. Is life watching your child grow without that huge family circle I grew in but having close friends that replace  them.  Is life being away from the people you love but starting to open your heart to people here and is missing Colombian food or even South African dishes but eating Dutch food and loving it. Is life as what most people do around the world... going to work, paying bills, preparing for holidays. 

At the end what keeps me going is expressed  in a song I love...in Spanish. " La fuerza de hacer todo a pulmon" And the strength to do all with your lungs...with you all your breath...intensely and even dramatically...Here I am...ready for more years to come...