The day often starts early, with the smell of arepas (corn cakes) or calentado (leftover rice and beans with eggs) for breakfast. Lunch (el almuerzo) is the main meal, typically eaten at home with family around midday. A common plate includes beans, rice, plantains, meat or chicken, and soup. Afternoon onces (a light snack, similar to tea time) is a social ritual, often with hot chocolate and bread or cheese.
Historically, Colombian culture has been somewhat conservative regarding gender roles. A girl might be encouraged to help in the kitchen while her brothers play outside, and she may be chaperoned more closely.
However, modern Colombia is dynamic. Today, a girl growing up in Bogotá or Medellín is just as likely to be enrolled in soccer (fútbol) as she is in ballet. The rise of Colombian women in politics, science, and the arts has shifted the narrative. Parents increasingly encourage their daughters to be independent, educated, and bold. The traditional protective nature of the Colombian father ("el papá que da la mano") is evolving into one of support for his daughter's ambitions. as a little girl growing up in colombia
Every afternoon, as a little girl growing up in Colombia, the street became a stage. The barrio (neighborhood) was an extension of the living room. We played escondidas (hide and seek) until the streetlights flickered on, and we jumped triple (jump rope) while singing clapping rhymes that varied from one block to the next.
The music was omnipresent. From the open windows of tiendas (corner stores), Carlos Vives or Shakira (pre-global megastardom) spilled onto the pavement. On weekends, there was la plancha—the moment when Dad pulled out the ancient vinyl record of Diomedes Díaz. As a little girl growing up in Colombia, you didn’t just listen to vallenato; you felt it in your bones. You learned to dance cumbia with your cousins, swaying your skirt in a circle to mimic the flowing river. You learned that rhythm is not a skill; it is an inheritance. The day often starts early, with the smell
The most powerful force in the Colombian household, however, is the matriarch. As a little girl growing up in Colombia, your abuela (grandmother) was a healer, a judge, and a historian. She knew which herb (matica) cured a stomach ache and which remedio chased away the evil eye (mal de ojo).
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. Afternoon onces (a light snack, similar to tea
Social life revolves around food, specifically the almuerzo (lunch). Sunday lunch is sacred. It is not a quick bite; it is an hours-long event involving sancocho (a hearty stew), rice, avocado, and protein. For a little girl, this is where she learns to socialize. She sits at the adult table, listening to the boisterous stories, the gossip, and the debates, learning how to hold her own in conversation.
In December, her world transforms with the Novenas de Aguinaldos. These are nine days of prayer and singing leading up to Christmas. For a girl, this is magical. She dresses up, practices carols (villancicos), and perhaps performs a skit. It is a blend of religious solemnity and childhood fun, involving sparklers (luces de bengala) and too many sweets.
Perhaps the most defining characteristic of a Colombian childhood is resilience. Colombia is a country of immense beauty but also complex history. Girls are taught to be tough. They are taught to find joy despite difficulties, to laugh loudly, and to dance even when times are hard.
She grows up with a profound appreciation for her country’s biodiversity. She knows that her country holds the beauty of the Caño Cristales river and the wax palms of the Cocora Valley. She is taught that her homeland is not defined by its struggles, but by its immense capacity for joy and rebirth.