What the hell am I doing on this plane? I’ve never been south of Texas. My language skills would make a 4-year old Spanish speaker feel highly superior. I know next to nothing about Colombia. To say my birding skills are weak is an affront to the word “weak”. Every fiber of my carefully hidden introvert self is screaming that it will take the waiting group of complete strangers approximately 30 seconds to stick a fraud tag on me. My only qualification for being here is the ability to meet the cost of admission. My heart is pounding as I gather my over-packed luggage and head to the exit. The first thing I see is a beautiful Colombian woman jumping up and down, waving the Colombian flag as if I might not have been able to pick her out of any crowd. Eliana Ardila Kramer of Birding By Bus leads me out to the rest of the group where we are overflown by my first Colombian bird.

It is the time of full-swing Covid, first type. There are many welcome precautions. We are masked, sprayed down, sanitizered, temperatures taken, keep your same seats please … and we’re off to our first hotel in Cartagena.

We sit and break bread. This is a small group because of the pandemic, and the atmosphere is congenial. We introduce ourselves (the part I always dread), and it is fine. This is fine. My heart rate slows, and I try to stay open to the adventure this promises to be. I work hard to remember my manners, my Spanish pleases and thank-yous. We set out on an odyssey of various habitats in northern Colombia (urban areas, mangrove forests, scrub, desert and mountain areas), and I learn that while I can confirm I am not good at identifying species of birds, I am actually pretty good at just seeing them move and finding someone more experienced than I am to tell me what I’m seeing. I’m also finding out that my co-travelers are charming and funny and very pleasant to be with.

Birding By Bus makes sure that every part of the trip includes exposure to Colombian culture. We get instructional presentations on money, food (fruits in particular – always fresh and delicious), local tribes, and anything else we ask about as visitors to Colombia. Friendships form quickly, and our bird guide’s love of idioms appeals to the linguist in me. I give him “What’s up, chicken butt?”, and am given “Muy bacano, mano!” in exchange. I think back to my initial concerns about coming to Colombia and feel a bit silly. I am absolutely meant to be here. And the best is yet to come as we make our way away from the Caribbean coast up Santa Marta mountain. There are SO many amazing endemics that it’s a good thing e-bird is around to remind me after the fact.

13 Dec 2020. What the hell am I doing on this plane? What happened to the past 8 days? They flew by in a blur. I have wonderful new friends. I discover my Spanish, while bad, is not as bad as I thought it was. I discover that my birding skills, while bad, are not as bad as I thought they were. I think the most important thing I’ve learned is to trust myself a little more in new situations. And while on the plane I send a text to Eliana to confirm that I want to come back to Colombia as soon as a tour is available. I look out the window to see a farewell overflight of my last Colombian bird.