Sunday, January 4, 2009

Chapter 5: Viajar - To Travel

unfortunately or fortunately depending upon the way you look at it, i have become anti-picture taking. it is not that i don't want to capture my experiences in a visual dimension, but that i want to relate to myself in a different way. i can here my baby brother's voice mocking me as i reveal this aspect of my character. "Vida, why do have to go around and be sooooo 'different.' My name is Vida and I am 'different.' Stop getting 'different' and start getting real like everybody else." Kusha is so cute and cuddly like the little nazi capitalist 24 hour fitness trainer that he is. He makes me want to find a ferocious sweet soft koala bear and snuggle with it. Awwww...family.
okay back to my 'different' international lifestyle. because i have boycotted having a pictorial trail i sense i owe it to friends and family to explicitly document my ongoings. i wonder sometimes from all the people on my e-mail list who get access to this blog who really reads it. that being said i think it is my duty, no, my responsibility to those that take time to scan vida's minute existence, that i write something worth your precious life seconds. you should laugh. you should cry. you should get the best of me.
now i am intimidated because i have to deliver. i think i also owe it to my loyal family and chums to spare you the boring long labored details. have you ever read a fellow friend's blog and wanted to hang yourself? through the computer screen you shout Friend! Friend! Get to the fucking point. This is not a publishing of a novela, it is just a fucking blog.
Shhhhhh... i can cyber hear you. i am getting there. To vida's fabulously 'different' international spiritual awakening way across the american boarder. when you are an international resident like myself chakras open up that you never thought you had. i don't even have to meditate anymore because i have arrived at eternal nirvana.
okay okay enough of my own self amusement. guate. what is up and what is down. i have currently returned back to the classroom from three glorious weeks of vacation. man, words can't describe the ultimate gloriousness of my non-working period, but i will attempt to illustrate the impossible.
i am not a well crafted plan way in advance kinda girl. i tend to feel out what i want and roll them dice. so i went home from work that friday that officialized my winter break and said to myself what is it gonna be ms. vida. with the help of my muchachos i planned this...my house, guate city to rio dulce to livingston to flores/tikal to antigua. so that was the guatemalan half of my trip, but the excitement doesn't stop there. i don't feel fully international or a spirit buzz unless i get some stamps in my passport. so mexico it was...antigua to san cristobal de las casas (chiapas for the culturally illiterate) to oaxaca to puerto escondido and back again. i bused. i shuttled it. i backpacked it. it is rough at times, but well worth it. my feel sorry for myself blog that i wrote last was quickly remedied by a countless number of wonderful people whose paths crossed mine. and i was able to see, touch, smell the most breath taking and i mean steal my breath from straight out under me natural majestic environment. From rivers to hot spring waterfalls, to beaches and oceans, to the top of volcanoes. this my friends is what separates me from the meditators and people who claim to want to know life. you either live or you don't there is no in between. i don't really know life i just want to feel it. i have to live up to my iranian spanish given name la vida... the life.
yes of course no more gloating or self bloating. remember the bloggers that make you want to commit suicide, i will spare you the rope by downsizing my vaca. some die hard vida fans (probably only my mom) are frowning at this point. turn that frown upside down mom because i am going to share a vacation story that shant be forgotten.
this is actually harder than it seems. do i describe to you the exhilaration of standing on the volcano and roasting marshmallows near its lava trails. or sharing odd cultural life circumstances that endowed me with newly made friends.
hmmmmm...i think we shall have a little romance. dim the lights. light some fragrant candles. and put on some mood music. all the spots i visited had their charm, but san cristobal de las casas of chiapas definitely wooed me. maybe it is the zapatista revolutionary spirit or the countless number of fabulous artists young and old, indigenous and urban. i think my last night sealed the deal, yes i am definitely in love with this place.
san cristo was also refreshing because it was like a latin portland, something guate lacks. buzzing creativity and self expression is sadly not available on the same level in most of guatemala. that does not stop me from being a die hard chapina, it just makes me have a little infidelity with the southern region of mexico.
so my last night. i try to chat with locals hoping they are interested to hit the town and show me what it is made of. i made friends with this guy who sold me my jamaican jacket much like an adidas zip up. he was nice, the kinda guy who makes a good guy friend, in other words no attraction on my part. we hit up the revolution bar that had incredible live music. then we met up with his friend and trailed around town looking for another location to hang at.
entering another fabulous live music site we sat back and i observed my surroundings. i like to watch people and try to figure what there story is. an odd sensation ran over me when i saw this one gentleman. he was wearing a jacket similar in make up to mine, but the colors were different and it read Argentina on the back. i felt this strange impulse to make a comment to him. i leaned towards him and asked in spanish of course if he was argentian. my universe collided with his universe creating incredible fireworks across space and time. he smiled at me and responded in a voice that had me. he was definitely attractive upon visual contact, but it was the sound of his vocal chords that made me want to bare any and all of his children. i have never been so magnetically charged by sound. he told me he was from san cristo and the jacket was a gift. i felt horrible at this point because as soon as i made connection with him i was drawn away from my company and i could feel their disappointment. as we danced and danced and danced, a little bit latin,a little bit middle eastern, a little bit american. we laughed. we talked about who we were and wanted to be. i don't know if i did the right thing but i chose to devote my time to him. my last night night in mexico.
if you haven't killed yourself by now i know that i did my job. i shared just enough to keep you informed and in my life.

2 comments:

Anna said...

AHHHH! I love it! That is so incredible, and I am so happy to read about your adventures.
Ah, Vida, I wish we could have spent more time together outside of class. You are so fuckin' awesome.
As for the non-photo policy, have you thought of carrying a sketchbook? Not for you, but for the people you meet leave you a note, or draw you a picture. One of my fondest mementos from Okinawa was from a random meeting in a bar, and the crazily scrawled drawings from the weird, old drunken man - a former revolutionary and lifelong artist.
I wish you the best in your travels. Also, I request that you blog just a little more frequently.

Gordon and Dusty Hanson said...

You are a silly and lovely girl. So, I read your blog... kudos for me? And I second what Anna said, you need to blog more frequently- and I would also like to add, you should put up some (more) pictures...