Four years ago, I first visited Colombia at the behest of the friend of a friend who worked as the academic director at a bi-cultural language center in Medellín, the country's second-largest city, best known for its controversial benefactor, Pablo Escobar. I fell in love with the place, partially because of the hours-long conversations I had with a couple of paisas from the City of Eternal Spring: a spunky college student from the neighborhood and the well-read security guard (with empty shotgun) at my friend's apartment building. Unfortunately, the job I was offered at the language center didn't pay very well and I ended up accepting a better-paying university position in Colombia's fourth-largest city, Barranquilla. C'est la vie.
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