In Cali we stayed with a former landlord of Maggie's and his wife.
Fred is a slightly eccentric middle-aged man from Kansas City, MO - transported everywhere by, quite possibly, the only motorized wheelchair in Colombia. Fred is the kind of guy who has no filter. On a walk through Cali on our second day, a police siren rang out nearby. He looked at me very intently from his wheelchair and said unabashedly, "Hear that? That's the national bird of Colombia."
Eleven years ago, he married Luz, a native Colombian (and one of the sweetest and kindest women I've ever had the pleaure of meeting), after they met online while the two of them were living in Arizona.
From the moment they met - that was it.
I am such a sucker for a good love story, and watching theirs happening before me was almost too much for my little heart to handle.
The way they interacted, the way they looked at each other, their gentle terms of endearment, not to mention they were two of the kindest and most generous people that I've ever experienced.
They have travelled everywhere together.
From Medellin to Cali to Kansas City to Spain.
They were returning to the latter soon after our departure as they had just obtained their resident visa there.
Fred mused over after dinner cervezas that before he died he wanted to attach himself to Luz with a rope tied around each of their wrists and do ecstacy together in Ibiza.
Quite the image.
During the same conversation, he fixed us with a penetrating stare and said:
"Marry your best friend. Make sure to marry your best friend, because if you don't, it's going to be long -- and it's going to be brutal."
Duly noted, Fred, duly noted.
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