Shortly after this episode, and the successful purchase of my plane ticket out of Colombia in late May 2011, I decided to stop teaching English and 'take a vacation' during my last weeks of 'vacation' in Colombia. Perhaps I was just tired of the exploitation.
Exploitation
Yes, perhaps I was exploiting them. I had come to their country, not bothered with the necessary paperwork, and forced myself on the labor market. Sure, I was owed money, and surely I leveraged that fact to the best of my ability for my next calculated moves that would hopefully propel me into the next phase of my life.
The mutual cycle of exploitation so common in the labor market led to me leaving my job, and the city, on short notice, choosing to spend my remaining time until my departure in the tiny town of Líbano, Tolima, hometown of my then girlfriend Ledis Arango V.
Ledis Arango V., who for all intents and purposes I had returned to Colombia to be with, had recently finished up her 10 semesters of journalism school at Los Libertadores University, and had accepted a scholarship to a two year program in her hometown that would culminate in the state certification as an official tour guide.
It was a fantastic opportunity for her, but left me alone and struggling for purpose in the big city of Bogotá until I had all of the pieces of my plan in place.
Finally, near the end of my stay in Colombia, we spent a dreamy three weeks in the relatively quiet and geographically secluded Líbano enjoying each other's company again.
Peace and Tranquility
Those moments – maybe they define our views on what a vacation is supposed to be like – moments that seem to last forever but disappear from existence faster than we can realize, like summer vacation or the elusive 'gap year'.
In this case it was a rumor, a speck of speculative information that jolted us back to reality. Surely this tiny piece of unspecific chisme may have changed the course of my whole adventure, saving, as it did, all my carefully and fragilely constructed hopes and plans.
At this point, whatever wishful thinking may have deluded me before, I knew I was good and illegal. When I started wondering what would happen when I tried to leave (unlike the U.S., Colombia does check, and stamp, on the way out), I soon realized my struggles weren't over yet. There would be an 'over-stay' fee charged at the airport; if I couldn't pay I wouldn't board. And if I didn't board the plane, my last chance at escaping illegality would fly away without me.
Suddenly realizing the pickle we were in, my girlfriend and I rushed back to the capital two days before my flight. After arriving and passing the night, we would have one day to plead with …..somebody.....to do.....something.
Look forward to the epic conclusion in Part 3! Will our hero ever 'Escape Illegality?'