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As I was leaving Toronto to escape the atrocious stress-condemning situations of the city that has hosted me for a few years already, my mind kept on wondering off to remote placed visited during previous times, comparing them to those surrounding my here-and-now.
After rushing like a mad cow trying to cross the city in time to catch my bus at 8:30AM, I thought about many things and felt at peace for once, even though the subway was packed as usual, during rush hour. All sorts of feelings came to me from seeing a pregnant woman that actually gave me her seat, since i was loaded with luggage (she actually ended up getting off the train two stops after. It would have been agonizing to observe her standing and having everyone looking at me like a moronic bitch for being so damn rude... but c'mon! i wasn't exactly empty-handed).
Once at the terminal, I bought my ticket and proceeded to board the bus that would take me back to my family. As I awaited in line, I observed the guy that was storing the luggages inside the bus trunk, who was giving me the looks, as if I had "Cocaine Addict" written all over my forehead.
It was kind of uncomfortable, but I decided to stare him until he said anything... At the end, it was me who suddenly said: London!
I got into the bus and, to my surprise, what woke me up from my day-dreaming session was something along the lines of "Maguiber, pasele ese talego a Doña Gladys..."
Those magnificent words spoken with that Colombian accent, which can be distinguished anywhere in the world, caught me by surprise, provoking a mental image that took me back years into my infancy in Colombia. I chuckled, but did not intend to be rude, even though I was still astonished about this particular event happening to me in the city of Toronto.
Even though Toronto is the most multicultural city around the world, what are the chances of getting a Macgyver sharing a bus ride with you... Nonetheless, I was still in Toronto, where anything can happen, apparently.
As the bus started its almost 3-hour journey to London, I kept on thinking about the fellow companions who were sitting a few places ahead from me. They were so folkloric in a sense, which made me question my own culture. How come I am so different from them? how come I feel ashamed about people like this, who could potentially be the role-model to be associated with Colombia? I find it incredible, since I am very sure I'm not alone wondering about things of this matter, which is even WORSE because that means my people are rotten inside!
At any rate, I think is hilarious to have such huge cultural diversity, still here, millions of miles away from my homeland.
Thanks to events like those, I do not forget where I come from, even if I don't belong to that place where I first got a taste of life. Sad, true, but still inevitable. Perhaps I just haven't been completely able to connect to my roots. As proud as I may be, I am proud of something that does not completely define me, nor does it identify me.
Sad but true...
In the meantime, I will connect to those around me who are still unaware of their unplugged cultural state, but are too busy enjoying their lives that could care less about belonging to a place that does not have a particular influence in their daily life.
