How To Write A Narrative Essay About My First Vacation In Columbia
I live in a country full of rich resources. Our weather is like a bittersweet lotion that replenishes the skin. People from all over the world come to my land for these things called "vacations". Vacations bring in nothing but good memories, smiles, and family. A vacation is a fairytale here in Columbia. The beautiful landscapes are just a pinch of reality that are on the brochures, websites, and posters. Sometimes when I look at these Americanized pictures of Columbia I wish I was there. The true story of Columbia starts in the city of Bogata located in the mountains. I am a young girl. I will not disclose my name or age because what I'm about to tell you about my culture and land are hands on things my soul has been through; which may upset
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I remember one time I hid in a ditch covered by broken branches of war. In this ditch I was not alone. On the right side was a dead peasant just like me but the only difference was that my heart was still beating. I searched his pockets and found enough cocaine to rest the hands of my family for 72 hours. As I waited for the sound of guns to stop my feet were marinating in this man's blood. This blood was not warm, so my feet were cold. I am an expert on death. I seen more deaths than days I have been alive. His body has been there for a couple of Columbian sunsets. Again I am young so I tend to see the brighter side of things. I was lucky enough to come across his body and take his shoes since I didn't have any. This dead body was a blessing for my family and I. Not everyday I get this lucky. When I get home I play with my one my legged friends. No, they weren't born with one leg, they lost it in the mountains picking coca leaves. Colombia has the highest percentage of land mine victims in the world. The gorillas and paramilitary have set up land mines all over the mountain to protect the coca leaves from intruders. A majority of my friends have a missing arm or leg. One time I was playing with another
I remember one time I hid in a ditch covered by broken branches of war. In this ditch I was not alone. On the right side was a dead peasant just like me but the only difference was that my heart was still beating. I searched his pockets and found enough cocaine to rest the hands of my family for 72 hours. As I waited for the sound of guns to stop my feet were marinating in this man's blood. This blood was not warm, so my feet were cold. I am an expert on death. I seen more deaths than days I have been alive. His body has been there for a couple of Columbian sunsets. Again I am young so I tend to see the brighter side of things. I was lucky enough to come across his body and take his shoes since I didn't have any. This dead body was a blessing for my family and I. Not everyday I get this lucky. When I get home I play with my one my legged friends. No, they weren't born with one leg, they lost it in the mountains picking coca leaves. Colombia has the highest percentage of land mine victims in the world. The gorillas and paramilitary have set up land mines all over the mountain to protect the coca leaves from intruders. A majority of my friends have a missing arm or leg. One time I was playing with another