Did I say goodbye to William properly? Parting sometimes had its challenges with the way we were moving in out of our own schedules and the schedules of the buses, flights and hikes we needed to make it to our next cities.
I had booked an abbreviated tour of Colca Canyon to his full day hike. I have a misty memory of it seeming way too early to say an official goodbye and when you hope to see people again in the next leg of your continental travel, goodbye gets even murkier. Many of us were not returning home just yet so couldn’t our paths continue to coincide. Feeling a bit of resistance to old routines and responsibilities, doing the work of giving our time to organizations continued to be more appealing.
We were equally reluctant when “see you later” was so much easier. Still knowing this might be the last time for then or for a long while, sunglasses doubled as protectants and a means to hide the abundant red eyes. One of the hardest times was leaving my first Peruvian home when the one exiting made their official goodbye speech during the regular weekday morning briefing.
We did our best, not too bad, treating the person to a special time maybe in the form of their favorite part of the city or their favorite local cuisine. Sandboarding was one goodbye and fortunately I did get to reconnect with those friends but there was always a worry.
I think the rub was not particularly always knowing how the next partition of travel would turn out, what days would correspond, where we would unwittingly linger, and where we would be mesmerized by more friends to add to the social media rolodex.
I think a lot of us must have worried if this would be the last time. Once the volunteering and backpacking was done, how often and how far would we be able to return. Staying in touch and follow up visits have not escaped us as much as we might have thought and the last time I made it all the way back to the very beginning of this adventure was not too long ago. I think too long – but still a hopeful glimpse in how it can always be possible.
William seemed particularly obsessed with his book on traveling through South America on a shoestring budget. This struck me because the guide seemed more like what would be appealing to me, but I was not as moved.
Once I was all set finding a great deal for a flight and lodging to my first South American country, I was considerably satisfied.
This is not to suggest I no longer get hyped for great bargains. I just consequently found I do not mind some spending room as well, especially when the service or product is well worth the marked or bartered price and let’s say it is not: I can only work with what I know and forget about driving myself crazy otherwise.
Priceless is also not just a cliché. The dividends I’ve gained in relationships and generally living abroad are nothing to which I could ever assign money.
His book was intriguing to me however, but before knowing him, I turned my attention to National Geographic and/or Lonely Planet and my beginner travel guides turned from easy accessories into their own kind of mementos. After consulting one or the other before heading out to covertly or not so covertly, (depending), examine them during my stays, they became a reminder of the experiences, getting to be a weathered reminder of the physicality of actually getting to be there.
Fortunately, William came to be interested in my National Geographic Peru edition too. I had it pretty much tucked away during my disaster relief efforts, where I met him, where he asked at the time when I was I was coincidentally leaving for Arequipa, why not go together.
I was learning firsthand about the city and my nearby areas, including the scenic routes and getaways, I was flipping through the guide again now that we found ourselves in Arequipa. I was looking at him a little sideways when every place we ate had to be a good deal. I wanted him to be careful. I wanted him to know there is a lot of good cheap food but some days, sometimes, food and other deals are hit or miss. Plus, I give him credit, he did not mind spending on official tours and hiking. Maybe I could ease up😊 but I kind of liked teasing him.
I knew spending just a little more in addition to some pampering and splurging had its place too, especially now that we were taking a bit of a break from roughing it. (We were not always roughing it, of course) Social life was still good, chill, relaxing, exuberant, saying more about we actually needed to have a good time and even before leaving for this trip and being with the rest of the group, there was sitting by the pool at a nearby resort, walking by the nearby ocean in our own city, a trip to the central market, pasta dinner and ice cream by the sand dunes. Pisco sours at the local bar. Luxuriating is also therapy. Perhaps, I could convince him. Perhaps, we were afforded more even more of a thrill now for not always having it and following long days of work. For now, I would need both my deals and my excess.
You could choose to be like someone else or dare to be true to yourself. The irony is that in a space where you have your daily habits, routines and responsibilities, you might find yourself being less in tune with yourself in many ways as you try to follow rules, norms, expectations, and possible perceptions.
What is one interesting natural alternative to quickly meeting your authenticity?
Travel.
No one generally knows us where we are going to go yet. Therefore…
We could reinvent or we could reconnect.
I soon realized part of enjoying getaways also lent to getting back to being a free spirit.
The next backdrop turned me towards Cusco. Home of Machu Picchu and my new home. From Arequipa to here, I was less afraid of who I really was and all too familiar with doing what was different. I was homesick in part but in an extreme level of comfort under my own skin. As the nomad minority traveler, I was feeling rather stable and different. I felt my new friends felt it too. We could be a little wild in exploring and likewise be adventurous in just being true to who we really were. What were our own unique styles, expressions and desires?
I’m not from New York, Vegas, New Orleans or similar parts of the US (only a visitor to even livelier cities). I now was able to regularly enjoy that dancing all night meant until 6 am. It just happened to be in Cusco and there were no differences from weekdays to weekends. Chill nights of course had their place too.
Normal life now also meant easy access to some amazing nature and historical settings. Whether it was an hour or about a half-day outing to somewhere like Sacred Valley or Sacsayhuaman, we got countless chances to plan some historic trips and get the connection to what was once Incan empires and other indigenous living. Everyday surroundings were still infused with them. We got the pleasure of befriending 3 native gentleman who would gift us with impromptu Quechua lessons and uninhibited also meant hanging out with them in the plaza, at any given time.
Teaching on weekdays, while challenging at times, also meant a carefree vibe as we connected with local children and who knew how intense our energy reserves could be, even still dancing the night away.
Most of us just traveling, volunteering or doing both, from different walks of life were transported to this place with some similar objectives.
More rooted in curiosity, appreciation, aspiration and even fatigue lent to our lack of inhibition, which ironically to me did not always necessarily mean sheer abandon but rather a heightened comfort with our true feelings and wishes, a step back from various shields we would wear to get through our normal routines back home.
Normal routines had their comforts and authenticity, but I was realizing the varying types of discipline commanded in work, church, an even how to behave leisurely was easily inhibiting. I welcomed the gentle reminder traveling in the States or abroad could bring. Nothing had to be perfect. The misadventures, gloom, and danger have happened. I just know sometimes taking a break from the autopilot has its freedoms too.
They told us to be prepared for tremors and something else even more destructive. Still we carried on with our days: Morning briefings before heading out to various volunteer projects. Breakfast together prepared by different groups of us on various days. Lunch on our own or sometimes graciously offered by whom we were assisting. Dinner in the evening again (taking turns preparing that for the group as well.) Sometimes we might venture further for dinner, but weekday time was a bit limited. We made up for that on 1 and a half day weekends and some other nights.
The daily structure only varied in the inner details, including socializing, and some illness. Remote South America. Who knew what the day could bring even when we were warned about it. We got comfortable with very little comfort. We remained motivated only faltering in our fatigue and natural human errors, working and chilling, while our distinctly wild yet generous behaviors played out amongst one another.
This weekday morning felt about the same but somehow also seemed a little off. We now lived in an earthquake zone. Our projects were centered around that recovery. Still when I felt the structure shaking around me in my 4-person room, nothing odd occurred to me except, why was there such an early disturbance. I knew there was a guy selling some items in transit and yelling (always way too early) but it wasn’t him. I also knew there could be the random odd noises. There was the nearby rooster, yet this was so not the rooster. I kind of got the sense this was some kind of city work vehicle and in my sleepy daze, I curiously (and strangely) wondered why a truck was driving through our house.
Just by chance, I had sat up moments earlier. Maybe that was a sixth sense. Perhaps I would have been more dazed had the rumbling been the first event rousing me. Less than two seconds later, I realized the feeling was the earth moving and cursed one emphatic time, as I pulled my sleeping back down towards my ankle (the sleeping bags were a cozy and hygienic addition to our bunk beds sometimes). Of course, somehow, mine got hung up around my ankles. I slowed my pace and moved into mechanical mode, knowing step by step what I at least felt I needed to do. Naturally, I looked a few paces across from me to see what was happening in the other two bunk beds. My roommate, in the bunkbed below me, seemed to be long gone. I noticed her sleeping bag had been flung across the room. I was oddly amused at that scene but then…
What ensued had to be one of the funniest scariest moments I had yet to witness. You don’t often get those two feelings in tandem. We can all do strange, or let’s just say, interesting things during a crisis. We can be good at emergencies and likewise have odd ideas sporadically pop into our heads. I was witnessing this, before any of us could even fathom our regular breakfast meeting, when I looked below to the small center of the room and saw my closest volunteer friend Margaret. Like me, she was also moving mechanically, rushing over to one of our two shared desks and rushing in the direction of the door. These moments were still startling but then, suddenly, our fourth roommate decided her best bet was to jump off her top bunk instead of traversing the several ladder steps which could also get her below. She promptly misaimed and landed on top of Margaret. The two of them were now on the floor. We would ask her later why she hadn’t taken those steps and apparently, humorously, and even courageously, she thought it made more sense at the time and would be faster. Now we all realized this made it take a little longer, as they recovered, and we got our bearings as much as could be expected. I felt even more endeared to her because she was now making sure Margaret was okay and taking command of the situation, telling us all to hurry and get out.
We were now where we needed to be after some interesting but notably organized action. We were between our place and Gabriela’s home who doubled as a mother figure to many of us (a great maker of cakes and provider of other services if we needed it). She was having a good laugh, noticing all the bare feet and bare legs of the guys who filed out into the safe zone. The tremors had subsided and now many of them were noticing the mosquitos thoroughly enjoying the skin exposed from the shortish shorts they either slept in or selected to wear in their haste.
I was glad Gabriella could laugh. True entrepreneur by the way. She was in the group of locals who shared the reaction of this being barely anything compared to the devastating earthquake years earlier. Other people feeling the trauma were understandably very upset, saddened and brought back to the time when the massive earthquake had leveled the city. We were fine but it did bring to mind that going through those few minutes walking across a shaky ground had been 10 times more intense for them. How unreal for them to have experienced what destroyed homes and infrastructure and sadly took lives. This was a reminder of why we came. Along with the residents, we were a part of overcoming destruction and now at breakfast, as my roommates and I chuckled over our initial reactions in our room just a bit ago, we were happy for the chance we had to be here. There was fortune in our gratefulness for survival and commemoration. There was fortune in our ability to enjoy one another and the friends we now had and have in Pisco.
Kat said I should stay in the room with fewer people. (At this time in our life, fewer people meant 4) The thought seems so funny now. What seems so small when I look around my spacious apartment today was suddenly luxury in contrast to the other rooms available.
Back then, I grew accustomed to situations that were mainly just housing/homes in the midst of a lot of outside activity. There were hostels with just enough room and shared bathrooms and shared responsibilities and maybe circumstances did not matter so much then because we were younger (not necessarily young, some of us but not all, but just being younger in general) and maybe because we knew how fortunate we were to be in a situation where we could help others, maybe because this was temporary, and maybe just because we were on a mission. We could forget luxuries and space and privacy we had left in our originating homes.
Instant acceptance and understanding came through just Kat’s messages alone before we got to this in-person decision. Much more than the instant relief we were receiving from being impromptu traveling companions, I knew she was more than cool and gracious in the current goals we shared, and in our breaks (her from school life and me from work), we wanted to do something else that we felt needed to be done. We opened ourselves up to learning more about this region and naturally ourselves. Neither of us had a background in construction but were afforded the opportunity to be around a few people who happened to have this and to use our own unique skills and training in various ways.
I took her up on the room offering. The vacancies were proposed to us at the same time and her perspective made sense. Our first night was spent in a temporary space at a nearby hostel and there was even less room there. Yet, our hosts were gracious and sweet. We were happy to be safe and warm after a stiff bus trip. During that night, we had walked back over to hang out with the rest of the volunteers in the main house (more in Pleasantly Confused). We were surprised, we did not even need to meet the expectation we had to grow into our initial condensed space. We were quickly given the options of the proposed four-person room and her more occupied one just one day later.
She would be there for a few weeks to my intended six months although now I know I would be fine in a number of spaces, either way. In so many ways, I would be okay in a number of spaces and a bit stronger for being open to what was offered. What I saw was not always pleasant but added to my disposition and a lot was indeed beautiful. Kat had coincidentally helped me to the best place for me at the time, to one of my closest friends, who I will always adore.
I could have automatically disregarded my own comfort (as I sometimes tend to gravitate) and there may have been a different story and an opportunity missed but I was learning to take care of myself a little better while taking care of others. We need to be able to do both.
We headed to the beach. I was surprised we were so close (within walking distance) but totally expecting it from the travel literature I had seen in and around Pisco, Paracas and the surrounding area.
The boardwalk was damaged in a lot of places and definitely indicative that we were living in two spaces of natural disaster damages and natural beauty.
I walked gingerly with Sana as the rest of our companions (4 or so other volunteers) strolled along beside us and sometimes wandered ahead or fell behind. Local people were laughing, enjoying the sun, swinging their feet off the pier, enjoying wide open spaces. Life was free. I accidentally left my sandals on the boardwalk above us as Sana helped me climb down and the strangers above smilingly shook their heads that, no they were not going to hand them down at Sana’s request. We all giggled. They tossed them gently down and I continued holding them as Sana and I wandered along the sand.
I knew this city (at times also considered much like a town) was not well off and I was honored to be a part of the rebuilding. I was pleased to relax a little and additionally it was not lost on me at all how savory Peruvian food could be. Perhaps that is one of the misplaced reasons I mistakenly fell for Sana a little too quickly with overwhelmed senses and sentiments over dinner with him and my friend. Perhaps but no regrets, either. Only more chapters and sobering lessons learned, and I still recall that one of my first delicious meals in Pisco was with him and her.
These were my first few days in South America. Life happened so fast after a childhood of dreaming of travels. I could barely believe all that would transpire in one day, each day, between hanging out, volunteer projects, amazing food, and of course from time to time, getting ill. Lucky for the moment I did not get ill right away after my first few weeks, but Nasa was local and did have some ways of shielding me.
Romance? Deceptions. Both false and true in my travels that followed. Momentarily, the results were yet to be seen but it was fun being friends with him and knowing him for the time being. I never regret meeting him along the way with so many other true friends plus romances and/or escapades to come. Everything in due time and in good spirit and lessons learned. Celebration and anger existed on the same surfaces and with the full range of emotions, we have to look around everyday and be pleased we are human enough to feel everything and appreciate the healthiness of accepting it all.
The news highlights sad truths. I too can speak to tragedies and warn there are so many instances when your best interests are not considered, or people take advantage of you.
I can still further warn you of scams especially while you are traveling. We all know there are a lot of instances when you have to be extra vigilant. Work on your timing. Remember safety in numbers. Et cetera.
Still, you have to think, how would we be anywhere at all if life was as dire as the never ending saga, the news tunes us into each day. Even they burn out into feel-good pieces and highlight some semblance of happy endings and justice. I will give them their credit due.
The day’s trip started late for Kat and me. The thought was for us to be cautious. Both her parents and my family were relieved we met in the Peruvian capital so we could take the four-hour bus ride together into the remote desert. Before that, we had never met. She also was in the Facebook group of people who would be volunteering for disaster recovery. My friend back in DC suggested I reach out to see if there were any other people going my way to the town on the same day. After Juan of Spain, who I was also yet to meet was unable to make the flight, she had responded to me and interestingly, for all the precautions we may have leaned into, we were always safe in the company of strangers from point A to B. Since there are some hard stories of people being scammed, cheated, and far worse (all over the world, mind you), we are right to think about this everywhere, but we are not right if we give into fears and think the worse.
The position we were in was mainly trying to follow the advice for guarding possessions in which we had to rely on each other. There are some bus companies that are better than others and we could only take a bus after our respective flights to the capital the day prior. We were looking to each other for information and direction. We had a lot mapped out from the organization’s information and on our own but going through the motions in person is a whole other level. She was happy I speak Spanish.
Still interesting, once we posed the one question about our potential 3rd of 4 stops along the way, several passengers from the area were especially attentive of us getting off at our proper destination.
For all the moments we are forewarned about being taken advantage of and of people not caring, there are so many more thoughtful people and actions through which we remain afloat. People feel a need, on their own, or through organized moments to help people in wars, conflicts and against lack or resources. For all the variety in the different calls to lend a helping hand in the moment in what is seemingly small or not, for each moment someone feels called upon, we can be appreciative. There are a number of actions I cannot even began to imagine doing which other people do naturally. What is equally inspiring is just being more willing to be helpful or friendly in our everyday encounters. Customer service associates could really use it. A stranger down on their luck may not even expect it. (I’m reminded of my younger brother recently telling me how he was able to help a coworker who was locked out of his car).
I have a further thought of what catalysts our behaviors can be and how powerful we are when we do not easily think we are. When I was younger, I remember the Quarreling Book was pretty spot on, with its impending domino effect that led from one person upsetting another until the cycle proved to be rather pleasantly effective in reverse.
Kat and I could depend on the kindness of strangers that day. Moments before and after that, I found such dependence became a necessity.
Save the plethora of ulterior motives that leave us vulnerable, there must be twice as many people and circumstances where people are doing even minor things to help someone along the way, towards their own teamwork or just being willing to do so for no particular individual gain.
Even for all the snarky and disgruntled moments, which seemingly assert themselves, there have been way more or enough of the alternative ones to keep us trusting with a healthy amount of vigilance. Kind regards to all the kind souls who want to see you get where you are going, literally and otherwise.
I am in the Politics and Prose bookstore, in my now DC neighborhood and I wander to the back wall of the travel section.
The last time I was there, I picked up the Lonely Planet edition of Cuba, a book showcasing the off-the beaten-path places to see in the country which still are noted accordingly, and the ones which are not because of the ironic knowledge. Still I like both the tried and true and the little known.
Going back to the office was challenging after 10 days in Cuba, however this was never so real as how I felt after living in Peru and Bolivia.
Not being ready to be back in the US and facing off with the reverse culture shock I had been forewarned about, I realized I could temporarily transition back by staying in a traveler’s hostel before securing another DC apartment. I would also continue my search for desired NGO and/or development work which I was for now more certain I had the field experience.
Years ago, my horizon had been so broadened that I was ironically too open-minded about my own chances and how people would see me back in the States. The ready circumstances or chances I had to orchestrate the next steps was not how I imagined them to be. Perhaps my heart was just too much abroad. Perhaps, I was unfortunate not to get the chances I needed in time.
I did work. I became ill and after finally getting better in the ER and hospital, I leaned towards what was supposedly stable though dulling to my senses. Unfortunately, the work was similar to what I only wanted to do for a little time when I moved to this area years ago, before doing more with international development. I was at another non-profit trade association and unfortunately, I became skillful at the department in which I worked and my knowledge of the operations as I was inclined to do. I imagine most of us are inclined to master our day-to-day responsibility and what is expected of us, so I became proficient at those operations and once again unfortunately, my tenure geared more towards the inner workings of a trade association. Perhaps in a fortunate way, I had to seek out my own international endeavors and my life still mirrored the experiences I sought out during and after my college years. My friends were international and locally from different backgrounds and I was friends with those who represented the mainstream and my own minority background as well.
Perhaps seeking out my own development work here and disaster relief abroad has molded me into being more appreciative of what I have been able to do and kept me from being burned out. Now I get the chance to select from a second passion and do that as I travel. Still, I recall the confusion of coming back and trying to make everything fit and employers keeping me to the box that I submitted to as well because though the work was something to which I was acclimated and had many perks, this was not my first choice. I dedicated about 15 years to organizations that did not truly speak to me. Thank goodness for travel, cool coworkers, other interests on the side and a willpower, though delayed at times, which will not let go.
The evening at the DC Wharf with my best friend with fireworks, mouthwatering dinner, comforting conversation and a touch of soccer was delightful leisure to my senses. Saturday was so good. Then Sunday (yesterday) was a complementary second. I was finally getting my chance!
My love of linguistics is mirrored in a building I did not think I would be seeing quite so soon. When my cousin told me about one of DC’s newest installments, I knew this would be on my local bucket list as I landed hopefully on their landing page.
Entrance to Planet Word Museum
I could see like the National Museum of African American History and Culture that had come to fruition, with the telling of aspirations, struggle, and achievement as an addition to the other historical museums that held some of the African and African American chapters, this museum, Planet Word, would also have a waitlist. There would be the free release of tickets during a certain time span each day, just like the former, so there was the element of perhaps getting lucky in advance, planning way in advance, or getting a legit hookup. Fortunately I did get lucky enough, a few years ago to go to the National Museum of African American History and Culture with a friend who had extra tickets. This time, I made a note to sign up sometime in advance to feed my language/culture admiring self. Still, the best-laid forgotten plans. I inadvertently put it on hold. I figured things may have changed recently and though the notice was short, how nice would that be if the date of my birthday was still open. Button after button, I could see my transaction was going through. Voila! I clicked 2 tickets just in case.
There I was. A few metro stops. Right on my home line and hello Sunday. I stood under the whispering willow tree. This is your welcome mat. You hear the whisper of words in various languages as you walk underneath the large structure on your way inside.
Whispering languages
I went into the front and the kind concierge looked up my ticket as I had my vaccination card and ID in hand, before she could barely say she needed to see them. She gave me several directions, including to start on the 3rd floor and work my way down.
It would be an understatement to say how fascinated I am with language, culture, linguistics, and the like. This museum was made right up my alley. Even in the elevator, the surrounding bookcase-like structure captured my imagination. [spoil alert inserted here: just in case you enjoy the surprise element with your tours] Stepping into a room with a large circular word structure, the interactions begin. There were several language stations with taped speakers that gave you a chance to learn their language, My second language of Spanish was first or perhaps my station coincidentally began there. Next was Portuguese, followed by Piscataway, an endangered indigenous language of the native people of the southern Maryland area in which words like Chesapeake still live on. The representative of the language brilliantly relayed some more mainstay words of a language sadly now only spoken by less than 1000 people. (I am grateful for him). I was also warmed to see Quechua had been included, an indigenous language of Peru, still spoken there. I learned a bit while when I was Peru hanging out with several of the guys who speak it predominantly.
Next I was heartened by the endangered interactive language exhibit. The strides some people have taken to undo language repression underscores a strength I cannot begin to imagine when enduring so many other psychological and physical barriers.
I wandered into the room with the 22-foot tall wall of words (also interactive!) learning about the origins of most of American English and some interesting contributions and borrowed words with origins not even remotely apparent. The wall had a sense of humor as well.
Speaking of, we were schooled a little more on the language of jokes and enticed into exhibits and invitations to pose with props that challenge your friends and family to a laugh and to decipher trivia. I realize at this point I did neglect to mention the video of the evolution of baby talk and language development, which meets you when you step onto the third floor. Babbling is key among our many steps and we are informed how deaf children babble with their hands. The cuteness of this collaged video exhibit was a little hard to leave honestly. Side note.
How we acquire language
Now back to leaving the 22-foot tall wall of words, there were quite a few options (I will need to make repeat trips to savor everything which to me is one of the great dimensions about DC museums along with the perk of many of them being free). I entered the karaoke plus performance room. With artists such as Katie Perry, Outkast, and One Republic, you could select your own to perform, jukebox style, or see the performance playing out on the stage in front of you. We were surrounded by a further breakdown of language etched on the walls, touching on similes, puns, and other intriguing twists and inventions we have developed along the way. The room of public speaking was now on my right: Think “Friends, Romans, countrymen, lend me your ear”. I actually need to explore this more on my next stop.
Some word developmentKaraoke plus concert roomEtched lessons
The room of significant books throughout our human years stole my attention. I will own that I am quite sensitive, both good and bad, quite a bit nostalgic, and always will be. Making my way down each floor, I still have some places to go. As I look forward to more, I thank you for sharing even more of your time with me.
Time suddenly contracted: Giving my landlord a 30-day notice without having another place where I would be returning, donating my car, leaving a temporary job where they wanted to hire me permanently. The decisions were necessary in my view but also so final.
They were more freeing than I would expect. I comforted myself with the ideas of facility and availability. How easy did I think it would be to return to the US and start working again, rent a new apartment, and just have to take the bus, train, or my feet everywhere. How simple. Leaving the way I did, I had to suspect there was some element of ease to my return, when I did return. I was incorrect in some of my perspective, but it got me to this.
Sometimes I have to take one opportunity cost or more so I can see some of my inspiration turn into life.
The final steps, which I decided were necessary, got me to my alternate opportunities though they also urged more second thoughts. I had to keep some greater fears to myself. I was surprised this was finally happening. My dream to travel and help people abroad was beginning. My experiences also gave me more ease in places I would later visit in the future. For the first time, as a volunteer’s journey, as the elements played out in real life, my mind so easily told me to stop and accept the tried and true and reminded me that I could be giving up security, safety, and putting friendships on pause and perhaps even a budding romance. The more I did, the more I had to go. Some of the time when people repeated what I said I was going to do with surprise, I was inwardly convincing myself of the finality of my plans as well. Sometimes, one just knows the last circumstance needed is twin doubts.
If I left the comfortable grind of everyday life, what would happen to me. Did I have a place? It was safe to say I would be bunking in Peru for the next immediate months and who knew after. I also did not know my fellow volunteers/new friends/travelers would have me wanting to explore more of this other side of South America. So there I was in a mixture of my own dreams and my own making. I was scared. I could barely wait.
When I describe leaving the comfortable grind, I had to remind myself there was a grind I needed to address in not realizing some other aspirations. My stability is alright but interestingly does not help with my mental balance and security is not the easiest element to focus on when wondering about a path I had imagined myself taking long ago. I even felt a little late but was happy I was going. I had found and applied to the one group I felt would fit me well (boy would I be curiously surprised when I encountered them on a Friday night in between volunteering shifts.😊
I was going and staying and about to get some interesting insights on staying a little longer and maybe even for the duration down the line.
