April was a journey back

There was something about last month---oh you vicious little April---that reminded me of an overland trip I took years ago from Boston to a remote village in Guatemala. There were many diversions on that journey, it grew increasingly hot and humid, I didn't really know where I was going, or why I was going there. It had a lot of texture, that journey. I set off in a car with a boyfriend. After crossing several weeks, and much varied landscape and personal drama, I arrived, by bus without the boyfriend, at a little pension in the remote village in time for lunch.

There were mattresses in the bright, hot courtyard; many cats lounged on the mattresses. I was the only foreigner in town. The bus had ascended out of Quetzaltinango and was soon passing pine trees, which felt sadly familiar to me, alone on that bus. After lunch I started walking out of town. I followed a dirt road up a formidable hill. I reached the top and looked down at the valley. Across the valley, someone was playing a Simon and Garfunkel song on the marimbas. I came all this way to hear Simon and Garfunkel? I wondered. I stood at the top of the hill looking at the life and the beauty in the valley, thought about some things, then turned around; descended the hill to the pension with the cats; spent the night; and the next morning began my return trip back to Boston.

It's shame that flight has obliterated the slow, thoughtful arc of travel from one place to another. It was such a shock to deplane in tropical back-water Uganda, for example, having lifted off a Newark tarmac less than 24 hours previous. It took weeks to adjust to the brutal change in temperature and disposition. But the feeling of arrival in Central America, having never lifted off the earth----well, there was no feeling of arrival, really. More a continuous series of steps, without beginning or end. Yes, the gradual shifting of climate, and human disposition and style and even language---never feeling totally severed from the folks back home---feeling the connection of it all, is really something worth knowing.

And that was April, the journey from one land to another, without having ever left the ground. We embarked with the best intentions. The solemn beauty of Holy Week. We painted eggs! and watched the seals at the zoo. And received flowers and the most decorous party hats. Many cupcakes. Many circuses---elephants danced and humans did flips on wire. We crossed hill and dale. It was overcast. It was so windy it was painful to walk up the street. It became very dark. I couldn't see anything. Everyone was very sad until one day we arrived at the street where the cherry blossoms were in full bloom. Gorgeous. It went from freezing rain to sweltering heat wave. A man in a booth told our fortunes for a quarter. We were very tired of traveling. Everyone was speaking a different language, that was disorienting. The horses seemed perhaps a bit abused. The tigers in the cages---don't they make you sad? Don't you long for a prehistoric time when tigers reigned free? And the children from China and West Africa doing contortions--they're smiling, but something feels off. And then it was raining again, and the umbrellas were gone where we had left them, and more disturbing the three year old boy was not in his bed. There he is, asleep on the bathroom floor! Will this month ever end? Will we ever arrive? With all the ladies lunches and blood donations and picnics in the park---with the mad woman tossing plates of lettuce---and it is still sweltering. A tank filled with sharks, beach sand on the apartment floor, sunburns. Perhaps it is July? Did I miss something? Did I actually not get out of bed, were the cherry blossoms all a dream?

And then, my word, May Day arrives. Make a wish. Make a list. Shhh listen,----is that a Simon and Garfunkel song playing in the park? Think some thoughts. We made it, destination-less. Turn around. Start the journey home.

Comments

[Nancy Stevens]

I've just found you and I can't pinpoint how. But I'm awfully glad I did. I spent a long time today going back to the beginning of your blog and reading. I love the way you write and the way you think. I'll be back.

[WhichBurner]

Wow, wasn't expecting to read this, great, cheers