After a month of wretched indecision, I have made up my mind.
I shall take my return flight as planned.
Colombia has been a beautiful home for a wonderful six months. But so much of a home, in fact, that these wandering feet are itching again. New adventures are calling, and an extraño, queasy homesickness is telling me to to hop back to England.
My unfinished business is not yet finished. I still want to perfect my Spanish and to master the tropical beats of salsa and merengue. And so this matter is not closed, rather postponed.
“Where to next?” Perhaps I’ll go to Italy and study and the art of flirting in yet another language. Or I’ll train to be a diving instructor in the Caribbean. No, seriously. I found a job advert yesterday and I quite fancy myself as a Dominican Republic water babe. Glowing sun, turquoise seas and a resounding tang of cultura latina.
Of course, falling short of olympic swimming skills and fearing the dreaded sand-in-knickers situation, problems might abound.
But pah to those: why not?
