#getexploring

For those who have lived in the five boroughs for more than a month, there is a shared camaraderie over the strange, unusual and downright disturbing occurrences that unveil themselves in the MTA subway system. When something 'out of the ordinary' is taking place in the subway, the passengers all share a knowing glance; it is an unwritten agreement that what is taking place is both wildly unusual but unfortunately common and we all just "get" it.

In my subway history I have come across the drunk and disorderly, the religious and pious, the musically inclined and the downright crazy. Whether the person is paying homage to Michael Jackson by dancing through the subway car, sitting down sans pants in the middle of the train, serenading in Spanish, condemning the passengers to hell or having a heated argument with themselves---the subway is both a lesson in tolerance and question of humanity. 

Whenever I have guests visit me from out of town, I am reminded of how shocking the unquestioned acceptance and jaded mentality of New Yorkers can be. Despite the beacon of glamour, beauty and inspiration these city lights provide, there is an undeniable underbelly to the city that is only discovered once you sign your life away to high rents, small apartments and relentless job markets. 

Yet, there is something beautiful discovered in the day-to-day life of living in New York and riding the subway--a beauty that is unseen by the transient tourist. I am constantly in awe of the endless variety of life when riding the New York subway. Wall Street business men sit next to East Village hipsters who bump elbows with Brooklynites--the city is like a colorful quilt made up of vibrant cultures, backgrounds and nationalities that all lend diversity to this iconic metropolis. This parade of life is on display in the crowded subways of New York, giving the city an air of promise that everyone of its inhabitants has a unique story with which they could share.

The subway and its ability to both disgust and enchant you underscores my general love-hate relationship with the city of New York. In the span of almost three years these city streets have granted me some of the best moments in my life and have burdened me with some of the worst. I have no doubt I would not be who I am today had it not been for these concrete buildings, glass skyscrapers and crowded streets. Yet, like most ill-fated relationships it is dawning on me that New York will be a great love that will drift on ceaselessly into my past.

The other day I caught the Colombia vs. Bolivia soccer match and was immersed amongst the locals cheering proudly for their country. Men and women huddled around a too-small bar, wearing Colombian colors and collectively inhaling sharply during goals almost scored. This variety of people united in joy once Colombia snuck a goal past Bolivia's goalkeeper. Spraying Aguila beer, blowing on vuvuzelas and cheering in Spanish the street suddenly burst with emotion.

At night, Cartagena is an on-going festival where, people are whipped into a frenzy of Cumbia and Salsa dancing, laughter and aquardiente. Swept up into the magic, my friends and I danced until the pink streaks of dawn melted into the evening sky. Shoes in hand and sand between our toes, we headed to the beach to welcome a new day as we passed aguardiente amongst ourselves.

If every place on earth could have one descriptive word by which to identify it, I think Cartagena's word would be "alive." In Cartagena you always feel alive as your senses are ignited with Caribbean flavors, Latin music and rich colors. 

While at the beach on one of my last days, I met a Colombian family from Baranquilla. The 15 year old daughter was fascinated by my life in New York and during the course of our 20 minute (entirely in Spanish!) conversation, I learned about how much she idolizes New York City and all it represents. Sitting there in the waves, I found it funny how my life seemed like a dream to her and hers a dream to me. 

It was my second to last day in Cartagena and nostalgia was starting to set in as I tried to capture the sights, smells, sounds and flavors of Colombia to carry back with me to New York. I was talking to the uncle of my new found Baranquilla friend and he asked me about New York and how I liked Cartagena by comparison. In Spanish, I gushed about Colombia and how I wished to keep traveling; that if the rest of the country proved as lively as Cartagena, then I wanted to keep exploring. My new friend turned to me, warmly smiled and called me un pajaro libre, a free bird. 

With its iconic cliffs framing Caribbean hued seas, Étretat looks like a place found in Hawaii rather than on the Pays de Caux coast of France. The cliffs look out onto open ocean, as though you could spread your arms and sail freely across the Atlantic without a care in the world. With its awe inspiring scenery and romantic seaside town, it's no wonder that artists like Claude Monet had set up easels to capture the magic Étretat holds.

While  recently visiting the Metropolitan Museum of Art in New York, I came across Monet's series of paintings depicting la magnifique Étretat. Although Monet is my favorite artist and his paintings perfectly captured the pastels and vibrant hues Étretat offers, it is an impossible task to truly harness the unparalleled sense of freedom and peace that visiting Étretat brings.