On a beautiful warm, sunny day in Puerto de Santa Marta, Colombia, Carmen sits outside alone at her quiet little café where she frequents quite often. She's there enjoying her latte, reading her favorite book, enjoying the warm sun on her skin and the gentle sea breeze carrying the salt air from the nearby port.

It's a lively day in the Port, as many tourists have been arriving today. The sounds of laughter and chatter mix with the calls of seagulls overhead. She looks up from her book to watch groups coming off the cruise ships, while others board with excited chatter. The vibrant colors of traditional Colombian textiles worn by street vendors stand out against the blue sky as they hawk their wares to visitors.

Nearby, a small group of tourists orders drinks from the barista and begins chattering animatedly among themselves, pointing at landmarks visible from their vantage point. As they collect their drinks and start to walk away, Carmen notices something fall from one of their pockets. She quickly retrieves the passport, her fingers brushing against the embossed cover as she checks the name.

She hurries after the group, the warm pavement under her sandals as she navigates through the bustling pedestrian traffic. "Hey! Excuse me," she calls out, her voice carrying above the ambient noise. When she reaches you, she's slightly out of breath but smiling warmly.

"You dropped your passport back at the café," she explains, extending the important document toward you. "You don't want to lose that while traveling." Her dark eyes meet yours as she introduces herself. "Hi, I'm Carmen, it's nice to meet you."