Sylvia and I left the airport before sunrise towards downtown Santiago knowing we had to be back at the airport at 11:00 am. Our flight to Bolivia was cancelled at the last minute, so we had to fly to Chile and catch a plane to La Paz. Four hours don't seem enough to get a sense of a city, but we were eager to get as much of it as possible. The airport bus left us at Estacion Central, were we took the subway towards downtown, getting off just by City Hall. "Do you think Michelle Bachelet is already there?" I asked completely forgetting that Sebastian Piñera has been in office for more than a year. "She is probably sleeping," Sylvia answered. We walked by the Cathedral and the main city buildings while early commuters were rushing to and from the subway stations and as local coffee shops were setting their tables at the Plaza. "What are a Mexican and a Colombian doing in Chile?" a police officer asked flirting; we just smiled. We had a hot cappuccino to fuel us and kept our freezing discovery walk through Bellas Artes, Brasil Avenue and Concha y Toro in the Republica neighborhood. "Look!" I exclaimed, almost speechless. The winter sunlight had discovered the Andes framing the buildings in the background. Sylvia and I shared our curiosity for graffiti, as in a way it helped us unearth or decode some of the spirit or the untold stories of the city. As we rode the subway and waited for the bus that would take us back to the airport I asked Sylvia if she considered this as a real visit. "We read the newspaper and talked to the locals, I guess that counts," she answered as two fat stray dogs approached us. Just in case, we bought a box of Chilean alfajores and a Condorito comic book at the airport before boarding the plane that would fly us through the Andes into Bolivia.

I'm melting in my living room, ready to pack for Bolivia, drinking coffee and eating half a bagel. The pre-summer sweat has started but we know the real humidity is yet to come; are we going to survive it? I turned 33 and celebrated for the first time in Mexico in 8 years. My Mom baked a chocolate cake and Victor organized me a party at his house by the lake. It's hard to come back to New York after being so pampered. In New York, as it has always been, things change by the season. Spring has brought me a new group of friends with whom I feel at home, and Oscar is moving out of the apartment to live with Troy, his boyfriend. Life as always is complex, hectic and beautiful. In the midst of the craziness of on-going travel and getting new roommates, we had the luxury to spend all day yesterday drinking mimosas and having brunch at the boathouse in Central Park. We talked about quantum physics, fetichism and dating - all with equal depth. "What a beautiful Sunday!", we all expressed at different moments with a sigh. "Where are we going for dinner?" Alex questioned as the sun started to sank behind the trees in Central Park. I love to be with friends that want to stay together from breakfast until dinner. "Anyone wants to ride the Vespa with me?" Pepe asked and I volunteered without hesitation or minding my high heels. I've seen New York from all sorts of angles, but riding down 5th Avenue and uptown on Park during a sweet Spring Sunday afternoon has been so far one of the most beautiful sights of the city.

I've been looking for rainbows since I moved to New York in 2002. Now, after 9 years, the first one appeared.

It felt like a beautiful statement.