almost home

12/04/02

Sitting in the vegetarian restaurant/yoga centre in Esteli. I have just finished my meal, which I heavily laced with a homemade chili sauce. I am waiting for my penultimate Spanish class. My teacher is a very sweet woman of 42 years. We discuss politics, religion etc. and she gently corrects my grammar mistakes. (I have just moved tables to get away from the cell phone music that started just behind me.)

Yesterday I came back from a 2 day visit to the mountains. Beautiful pine forests. Vistas of volcanos and distant mountain ranges. Hot in the day and cold at night. A preparation of sorts for the coming return to the cold. I sit here and reflect on the past 11 plus weeks. Lots of travel. Many buses and boats. Many hotel rooms. 33 to be exact. Lots of packing up and moving on. I saw beauty in so many forms: the enormous trees, the flowers, the birds. All the colours. Beautiful beaches, rivers, lakes. And such kind people. Such gentle sweet peope. Reading the Dalai Lama at this moment, it is easy here to recognize the innate Buddhanature of people. Returning back to the cold and fast paced reality, it will be a greater challenge to see inherent gentleness in all beings around me.

And what did I learn on this trip? That in stopping and staying, I get more rewards and understanding than in movement. That travelling alone has its benefits - I follow my own rhythm, I am forced to make an effort to meet others - and its disadvantages: The adventure is mine alone. No one to laugh with about all the memories. 11 weeks was too long this time. There is only so much movement, so much beauty one can integrate. I look at all these travellers I meet with their yearlong, 6 month, 2 year around the world trips and I don't envy them as I have in the past. I need to stop and give back. It is time to look beyond this solitary mind.

And of course, the body and its frailty. My assumptions of my strength, my capacity to endure and overcome were tested. Sure, I endured. Sure, I overcame. And I was not afraid. But there was alot of physical pain and discomfort. Lots of enduring. And then that night alone in my lovely room. Diarrhea and vomiting. Severe abdominal crampìng. Do I go and bang on the door of the tourists next door? I think they are German. We barely acknowledged each other today. It is the middle of the night. Am I sick enough to go and ask for help? I guess not. I endured and survived. And took the bus, boat, bus and bus the next day.

I guess from where I sit, it is the end of an era. I will be 60 this year. There are others older than me who travel in this way. But it no longer pulls me to take the tough route. Was it the length of time? Was it the solitary travel? Was it the body fragility? Perhaps a bit of all of it. Am looking forward to new possibilities. Other options.

And I have a Spanish lesson to go to.