One of my bus pick-ups and I are launching our eco-tourism project on Tuesday. That's taking up some time.
Some power that be had Pablo choose the bus seat beside me, I struck up
a conversation and it turns out he wants to move out of electricity and
into ecotourism. What a coincidence that I want to start a career in
that area too. He's so disorganized that he is almost ditsy, but he is
passionate about medicinal plants, the history of Punta del Diablo and
the environment. For the followers of the travelogues, you'll remember
my unpleasant experiences on motorcycles in the Dominican Republic.
Well, a motorscooter is how Pablo and I make our rounds through town and
I'm still scared to the point of squeezing the wind out of the driver
if we go any faster than absolutely necessary to keep us upright. Thank
God he is the sensitive type.So, that's what's to come, backtracking a bit, Christmas for me is like a shot. I squint, look away, and pant "this too shall pass." I've pealed off the cotton ball and band aid and give thanks that the soreness is gone just in time for New Years. At least this year I didn't have to deal with the commercials, consumerism and present pressure. Ever since Mom died in 2002 I haven't been able to muster up a heartfelt Christmas sentiment. I kind of stopped celebrating it other than out of obligation. I tried, really, to sort of get into the spirit this year. Look at the lyrics I came up with on the Eve of Christmas Eve, 2011
“Deck my bush with boughs of seaweed, fa-la-la-la-la….la, la, la la” “Away in her tent, no room for a bed, the little vagabond Gigi lays down her sweet head…” " Now dashing through the dunes, in a 20 horse power 4-wheeler, over the hills we go, screaming all the way."
It turned out to be a "Merry Christmas, I suppose" sort of event.
My dear friends, Yolanda
and
Juan, departed for Spain on the 22 and I slipped into the hole they
left behind. My dream home cabana was rented, and thus I moved from
back to
and spent part of the day adjusting my sleep number mattress with a shovel. Rain was pooling under my bottom and that just wouldn't do. I'm back to sharing a substandard bathroom with 20 other hostel slaves.
So, to be honest, my Christmas was not so Ho Ho Hot. Now that I think
about it, Christmas Eve last year I was in a similar dim, but alone,
save that crazy, barfing cat I was sharing my friend's flat with in
Valladolid. (see Travelogues 1-3 Spain) If you recall, I decided to
take hot chocolate that night to the two homeless people I had seen in
the park while running and I spent the Eve of the homage to the Christ
Child's birth freezing my ass off, literally, on below 32 concrete
getting to know Angel and Manoli. On every subsequent return to
Valladolid we've continued building the friendship born under an
abandoned bar awning. Not far off from the manger scene.Has it really been a year since I threw myself to the wild abandon of a midlife crisis??? Geezus, where does the time go? My 3 month tourist visa is about to expire here...that's another shocker for me.
The best gift of this Christmas was Little Lucia peeping in the hostel front door on x-mas morn' , "Zche zche!!!" (as she pronounces my name-all the Uruguayans do) We've a tradition now of running toward each other with our arms spread wide like two lovers in a Viagra commercial in slow motion, subbing lip locks for pecks on the cheek, of course. I swung her up on my hip, grabbed one of her little hands like a tango dancer and busted out in Jose Feliciano's "Feliz Navidad." She giggled until I got to the "I wanna wish you a Merry Christmas..." part and then we started a cycle of "eh?" and that incessant question-repeat-answer-repeat holding pattern: (see Travel log 18?)
--Zche, Zche, What are you doing?
--I'm dancing with you.
-eh?
--I'm dancing with you.
--You are dancing with me?
--Yes, I'm dancing with you.
-Why are you singing funny?
--I'm singing in English.
-eh?
--I'm singing in English.
--You are singing in English?
--Yes, I'm singing in English.
Since it was Christmas I didn't toss her off the deck. Actually the little bugger has grown on me and I look forward to our embraces. A Christmas gift that didn't cost a dime--what if all the world tried it?
It's now New Year's Eve and I'm thinking about spending the evening in my tent reading a book that was gifted me and reflecting on the outgoing and incoming. The hostel comrades and guests are well on the way to snockard, but I'm not in the mood to join the self-destructive. It's becoming ever so clear to me that the twinge of discontent I feel here has much to do with being on a different path or in a different place in my life. Well, actually, I am experiencing quite a bit of discontent with working at the hostel. It's beginning to remind me of a dysfunctional family. It's the people in town that I'm meeting that makes me love being here. It's all about the people. I'm feeling that life is about the people...not my house, or my job or my living conditions or my personal history. The greatest source of joy I have at the moment are other's lives...from little nose picking Lucia to the Ayurvedic doctor I want to work with to the stoned lost soul at the bus stop who says something I needed to hear.
Well, it's dinner time, 10:48 pm (I've put on so much weight here! It makes no sense to me to eat when you should be in the rinse cycle of R.E.M), so I suppose I will mosey on down to the buffet they are providing for the occasion.
You are reading this because you are one of the significant people in my life I mentioned before. I wish you the best for the new year. I'll leave you with a few photos of my life here.
Much love and many thanks, Gigi
- facing my fear of horses on the horse named "Borracha" (drunk) and she did swerve a lot
- Fabian, the guide, one of the coolest people I've met here
- Hitchhiking in the back of a truck--please dont' tell Pop!!
- Sealion sanctuary-Cabo Polonia
- These flowers inspire the daylights out of me--months of no rain, yet they bloom up out of the sand, emerging from the harshest of conditions. And my excuses for not blooming in life.......?
