Today, when I make bandeja paisa for my own children—who were born in a cold, quiet country where silence is normal—I teach them the lessons of the kitchen. I teach them that a red bean takes three hours to soften. I teach them that a woman’s voice is as powerful as a man’s machete .
As a little girl growing up in Colombia, I was surrounded by a world of vibrant colors, rich culture, and breathtaking natural beauty. From the snow-capped peaks of the Andes to the lush rainforests of the Amazon, my childhood was a journey of discovery and wonder. In this article, we'll take a trip down memory lane and explore what it's like to grow up in Colombia, a country that is often misunderstood but always enchanting. as a little girl growing up in colombia
The holiest hour of the day was 8:00 PM, during the novela —usually Betty la Fea or a melodrama dripping with betrayal and secret twins. You would sit on the cool tile floor, resting your head on abuela’s lap, while she knitted a blanket. She would narrate the plot even though she was watching the same screen. “ Ay, mija, ” she would whisper, “never marry a man like that. Men are like bandeja paisa —too much rice and not enough meat.” These moments were your informal education in psychology, betrayal, and romance. Today, when I make bandeja paisa for my
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Food is one of the primary ways love is expressed. A typical childhood memory for many Colombian girls involves waking up to the rich aroma of chocolate completo —hot drinking chocolate melted with a visual layer of salty cheese, served alongside warm, buttered arepas freshly peeled from the budare. As you grow, you learn that every region has its own culinary signature. In the Andean heartland, it is the comforting warmth of Ajiaco , a thick potato and chicken soup garnished with capers and heavy cream. On the Caribbean coast, childhood tastes like arroz con coco (coconut rice) and fried plantains enjoyed with the salty breeze of the ocean. A Playground of Natural Wonders
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, where we lined the sidewalks with hundreds of candles, turning our street into a river of flickering gold. We danced