This was what I thought as Francisco and I sped through the streets of Cali, Colombia. Just as I always experienced a tinge of emotion at the sight of the Welcome to Los Angeles sign at the Bradley terminal of the airport, I wondered if Francisco was getting nostalgic at the thought of returning to guerrilla war and drug traffickers. He was home. They would take him in here—and if we were lucky, they wouldn’t do it in the hopes of receiving a ransom.“Is this your first time in Cali?” the cabdriver asked, glancing at us in his rearview mirror.“Francisco is from Cali,” I said with a tinge of vicarious pride.“We’re both from Cali,” Francisco added. “I’m from Cali, she’s from Cali-fornia.”The cabdriver looked at Francisco’s blue eyes and light complexion suspiciously. “You’re from Cali?” he asked, incredulous.Francisco nodded.“But where were you born?” the driver persisted.“Cali.”“But your parents . . .”“From Cali.”Francisco had come home, yet no one believed he was from the place.
What do You think about Avoiding Prison & Other Noble Vacation Goals (2007)?
