I really am finally going. I really finally am going to see Guatemala; and make the trip that I had been planning for approximately last 5 years happen. This really is my backpack and it really is packed and ready to go. This is my plane ticket; even though it doesn’t seem like a real ticket, but it is still an actual ticket and it still is going to transport me where I have been craving to go for too long a while.
I was worried that with the amount of stress that piled up within the last couple of weeks I would not be able to relax; thank God I was wrong. The moment I lock the door behind me , the moment I sit in a cab I’m already switched into vacation mode. I’m already smiling. I get a tingling sensation along my shoulder blades. I’m growing wings already. I’m already wrapping myself around the present moment. There’s nothing but me; here and now. God bless this beautiful cold crisp morning on March 4 2013, God bless David; my driver, who’s taking me to LaGuardia, and God bless my weary head, which has gotten so heavy within the past couple of weeks, and is now, suddenly getting lighter and lighter, until it’s so light that it sets off into the sky. I feel my every muscle; and it’s ready to go. I listen to my every very own organ; and it is whispering something in excitement. I look into my own head and for the first time in forever it’s perfectly clear; just like the sky over the Bronx on March 4 2013.
For the sake of my personal little quest to re-romanticize travelling I’m not taking my iphone. I’m not taking my ipod either. The ipad I’m not taking, because I luckily don’t own one. Now that I don’t have all my “Is” there is more me within my I. And I am suddenly overwhelmed by the gratitude for my I; for being Me. For my Arms, for my Legs. For my Eyes. For my whole entire I. Hey there Me; it’s been a while. It’s so good to have you!
The night before I was close to not being able to go on anymore. I was so overstimulated that I was really very close to braking down and crying. I in fact did break down crying, and was just about to lie down on the floor of the L train, break into a thousand pieces and just keep crying louder and louder and then switch to moaning and howling like a little homeless bitch. I was there on the L train, praying for it to move either way, but it just stood still forever. The crowd of people around me was getting thicker and thicker and I was getting smaller and smaller. The band at the 6th avenue station was playing louder and louder and less and less bearable. I had been looking at apartments for about 5 hours by that time; it was freezing cold, and the commute from Brooklyn (where I saw a room the size of a closet) to Astoria (where I saw a room the size of even smaller closet) was about the duration of a flight from New York to Florida. To make it even worse I had kissed the Boy with the Most Beautiful Eyelashes in North America a couple of nights before after 2 years or so on my very own stupid call and was struggling with deciding which emotional category to place it in on this crappy evening of a subway-bound lot. I felt like if somebody was not going to hug me right there and tell me that everything is going to be all right my head would just set itself off and explode and I would be the first female suicide bomber blowing it all off solely with the explosives of mental tensions in her brain. New York has its ways of pushing your buttons and pushing your limits. But somehow it didn’t happen; somehow nothing exploded. And somehow I’m already jumping in a cab; I’m already on my way with David behind the wheel.
“We’re going to LAGuardia”
“LaGuardia? So: where are you going?”
“Flying to El Salvador and then making my way on a bus to Guatemala”
“Beautiful! My pastor is Guatemalan and he told me that the 12 towns around Lake Atitlan stand for the 12 apostles”
“Of course! That makes perfect sense! San Pedro San Marcos… Santiago…?” I tap into raising intonation; question-mode.
“St. James. Santiago is St. James”
“That’s beautiful. Thank you. I didn’t know that. I read the entire guidebook and it didn’t mention that”
“Because that’s extracurricular information.” He winks and smiles.”So where are you from?”
“Poland… Beautiful people. But let me tell you something; you Polish people are very shy. I have a lot of Polish friends and they are all very very shy”
I tried to explain to David how it is actually true and how it comes inherent with the history. I tried to explain to him briefly about that history and how when a country is having its butt kicked for centuries by everyone around the people develop some sort of a pushover syndrome which is passed on from generation to generation and how with one of Europe’s youngest democracies of only 24 years they will probably be shy for at least another 50. I was trying to make it all quick, because the commute to LaGuardia was barely 20 minutes. So we ended up discussing the superiority of Anthropology over History (me) and vice versa (him), we exchanged kind words and genuine smiles, said our goodbyes and parted.
“Oh, and where are you from?” I asked upon leaving.
I took it for a good sign.
God bless David and his country. God bless the Boy with The Most Beautiful Eyelashes in North America for being such an extraordinary kisser. God bless my Airbus 321 and my gate B6. B as in Beethoven and 6 as in 69. God bless both tenfold. And God bless my words. I’m oozing with words for the first time in forever. They are all lined up at the tip of my ballpen fidgeting and waiting impatiently to come out. They were dry and withered for so long and now suddenly they are coming out in disarray. I will need time to comb them neatly into somewhat smoother braids of events. The life that has been hibernated within me for the last couple of winter months is finally waking up. Help, I’m alive! And I begin to notice immediately…