Julien Rojas

I was born in Bogotá in 1980, in an apartment in Chapinero where my mother still lives. I studied modern languages at the Universidad Nacional, in between strikes and student assemblies, and for years I taught French at a language school on 72nd Street, to women about to move to Montreal and to engineers who had no interest in learning anything.

I met Claire in 2009 at a translation workshop in Cartagena. She was from Lyon; she laughed at my French subjunctives and I laughed at the way she said "chévere". We got married two years later, and in 2014 we moved here, planning to stay for a while. The while has now lasted twelve years.

I translate from French into Spanish, mostly technical documents and contracts, and every now and then, when I'm lucky, a novel. I work from home at a table by the window, which looks onto a courtyard with a chestnut tree, and I go running along the Saône when my back starts to complain.

We have two kids: Tomás, who is ten, and Inés, who is seven. I've spoken to them in Spanish since the day they were born. They answer me in French. It's a conversation that has been going on for a decade, and I have no intention of giving it up.

I miss the arepas from the corner shop, my mother's ajiaco, the smell of eucalyptus when it rains, and the way everyone in Bogotá says "qué pena" for absolutely anything. Among other things, this blog is a place where I can write in my own language without translating it for anyone.