After an hour and a half drive through the noisy, dirty streets of Bogotá, Colombia, my uncle, Gustavo dropped me off at the airport. He accompanied me as far as he could go, because he wasn't a passenger on the plane. I became much more aware of the things around me once I was alone. I was barely eleven years old and I had never realized how different I was from the people in this foreign land. I had traveled here many times before but this was the first time I was out on my own. I had never noticed the unwelcoming stares and snickers coming from all around just because I was different. I was wearing dark blue bell-bottom jeans, a pair of black Nike's, and a blue flowered hippie style shirt. I couldn't believe the amount of people taking notice of me. I was in my mother's home country, a place that I love and enjoy. I have never ventured out on my own, but after that day I never wanted to go out again.
             It is only human to admire something you like, turn away from what you don't like, and criticize what is different. Or is it? People don't realize that what they say or do can have an affect on others. They had never seen someone dressed like I was and it caught their attention. They didn't realize that their snickering and gawking was hurtful and disrespectful. It isn't their fault that the poverty stricken lives they live makes them ignorant to what is outside of their home.
             I now know that they didn't purposely make me feel unwelcome. I am from a different society, I have traveled to many different countries, and I know that not everyone looks exactly like the citizens of my culture. But at eleven, I couldn't understand this. The only thing on my mind was to run. Instead I bit down on my lip to hold back the tears and looked straight ahead as I walked through the airport. When I arrived in Nieva, Colombia my other uncle, Mauricio picked me up and I vowed never to wear thos...