travel – humans are funny

Pink dreams do come true

When I was planning my trip around the world in 2008 (holy shit, that sounds so long ago), I stumbled across a blog (remember blogs?). It was the travel story of a couple in their fifties. They had taken a trip to the Amazon, fallen in love with it, and bought a banana plantation. They mentioned spotting pink dolphins every day from the porch of the house they built on the edge of their BANANA PLANTATION.

I of course thought they were dicks through my seething jealousy. Really though, I wanted to be just like them (but not in my fifties).

I quickly made some assumptions:
– Seeing pink dolphins in the Amazon is such an amazing dream. It’s so cool, in fact, it must only come true for other people.

– The Amazon is so far away and way too hard to get to. You probably have to be fifty and retired to go all the way there.

– You gotta be super rich to see pink dolphins.

So, I put that dream in the box titled ‘someday,’ and I went about touring places that seemed way more approachable, like Honduras (why? please don’t go there), Spain (Europe– just a $1200 flight away), and Papua New Guinea (home of the most dangerous city in the world— I am NAIVE AND HAVE A DEATH WISH).

This year, I decided to take my traveling to the next level. I went to the Travel Expo in LA to get ideas. And ideas I got. I saw a poster about the Amazon, complete with pink dolphins and bananas. I did some research and found that Leticia, Colombia, is a small town perched on the edge of three countries. From Leticia, you can walk 15 minutes to Brazil or take a 10-minute boat ride to Peru. And all of those places are smack dab in the middle of the Amazon (or El Amazonas, as they say in Leticia). With just some clicks of the mouse (not really. who still uses a mouse?), I found that a ticket to Leticia is MUCH cheaper than the tickets to any of the other places I’ve been going. Plus, it’s MUCH safer than Honduras or Papua New Guinea (I swear, Mom). And… THERE ARE PINK DOLPHINS there.

So, I booked a ticket and went there last month.
IT WAS SO EASY.

Note to 2008 self: don’t make assumptions.

I stepped off the plane and felt a welcoming tropical warmth. Oddly, there weren’t piles of books, electronics, or banana slicers. Just an abundance of trees and fishermen.

I booked a tour upon arrival and jumped on the first boat to glide from Leticia onto the wide Amazon river. On the right, communities dotted the river bank, morning smoke like pillows in the sky. On the left: Peru! We pulled into a quiet spot between two mid-river islands, and the dolphins greeted us there. Grey ones put on a show for us. The little babies somersaulted through the air. Then we waited. One minute. Three minutes. AND THEN PINK DOLPHINS!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! They were bigger and wiser-looking than the grey ones. They moved more slowly and did not care to put on a show. They were smart and smooth and the color of Pepto-Bismol. But best of all, they were there, in front of my eyeballs.

I’d been in Leticia 12 hours and had already seen the elusive Amazon beauties. At the end of my stay, however, the pink dolphins had lost a bit of their pizzazz. First, I found out they weren’t gay (super bummer). And when I saw ALL that the Amazon has to offer, they seemed kinda meh. Being in the jungle there is like jumping into a painting. It’s like coming alive inside a fairy tale. It’s like walking through a cartoon because the actual abundance of animals and flowers and fruits and birds and fish sounds and nature and new things you’ve never even imagined seems unfathomable in real life. But it’s real. And there are nice people there living among the beauty and green and blossoming of the Amazon every day. Some of them even have banana plantations (which are not that expensive, come to find out. You can even build your own house for a mere $2k along the river banks. Take that, 2008).

fairy tale forest!

I spent plenty of time there– enough to meet indigenous tribes and all sorts of characters. I made friends with a monkey named Shakira. I ate at least 20 fruits I’d never heard of. I had “coaching sessions” with three shaman. And, most importantly, I HELD A SLOTH.

Next time my brain tells me something is impossible or something is for ‘other people only,’ I will remember Leticia and look around my banana plantation.

June 20, 2013

Whenever you’re alone, there are always other people.

Traveling alone is the best and the worst. It’s the hardest and easiest. When you’re alone, there’s no need to tell a companion that you have to walk in to this store really quickly to grab some laxatives (an example). No need to feel pressured to go see the Pharmacy Museum in Krakov because your friend wants to go (Ok, I wanted to go. Hint: You can skip the Pharmacy Museum in Krakov.) When you’re alone, there’s no need to apologize to anyone when the dinner you made turns into midnight cheese sandwiches (Seriously, how did that broccoli end up tasting like bad breath?)

Plus, there are spiritual benefits to traveling alone, as it opens up a whole new world of awareness. With no phone or Facebook in a foreign land, dinners, lunches, breakfasts, and pretty much everything in between is spent listening to thoughts and getting to know what goes on inside your head. By now, I REALLY know what goes on inside my head. (It’s insanity in there.)

That new awareness leads to good, but it’s also the hard part. There are phases to this hard part. The first is fear. Maybe not for everyone, but I am prone to outbursts of that worthless emotion (Don’t try to say that there’s some good in fear because whatever.) I fear getting lost. I fear asking for directions. I fear being seen as a tourist (which is what I am, so this one makes no sense– my brain wants me to be cooler than a tourist.). Since I am alone, I am completely aware of it, which is even more frustrating. –What if I say something wrong and he can tell my Spanish isn’t as good as his? –Your Spanish isn’t supposed to be as good as is, as he is FROM SPAIN. –You’re right, but still I’m scaaaaaaaared. –You’re being really scared of some stupid shit right now. —Waa.

This lasts for a few days.

And then come the couples. Suddenly, you look around and realize that everyone on vacation is here with their extremely significant other. Your pupils become sniper eyes as you notice every little held hand, every fucking beach kiss, every cute eye exchange when the baby needs a new diaper. You see it all. And to top it off, waiters just can’t get over that you’re a girl on vacation all by herself. Every time you sit down to dinner, they’ll say, “JUST YOU?” and feign some crazy shock. A few nights ago by the Madrid airport, my waiter said that my boyfriend must have been killed in an airplane. I looked him in the eyes very seriously and said, ‘Yes. Yes, he was.’ And then I looked away. Not really, but I should have because WHY CANT A GIRL JUST TRAVEL ALONE? SO WHAT IF HER OVARIES ARE AGING AND SHE DOESN’T HAVE ANYONE TO TRAVEL WITH?

That’s the self-pity phase. It lasts for a few days.

And then there’s an outpouring of love for family and friends. Well, if Rahul were here, he’d love this place. And if Andrea were here, she’d be making fun of that guy’s Speedo right now. And, boy, my mom would want one of those mumus over there. Man, my friends and family are pretty sweet. WHY AM I SPENDING THE ENTIRE SUMMER WITHOUT THEM? I’M SO DUMBBBBBBB. I miss everyooooooone. Waaaaaaaa. Even my landlord. And my mail woman. What is she up to right nowwwwww?

That’s the regret/longing phase. It lasts two days tops.

Then comes the I-don’t-give-a-fuck phase. This phase is freedom. It’s still introspective, but whenever fear comes up or self pity walks in, you can stop them at the gate and say, ‘YOU ARE IN SPAIN RIGHT NOW. LOOK THE FUCK AROUND AS THE SEA IS RIGHT BY YOUR FEET AND YOU’RE NOT WORKING AND WINE IS $3 FOR A GOOD BOTTLE AND THIS IS EXACTLY WHAT YOU WANTED TO DO WITH YOUR LIFE.’ AND LOOK HOW MUCH YOU REALLY LOVE CAPITALS!!!!

I’d been hoping with fingers double-crossed for this phase to hurry up and come. Please come, freedom to speak and be and frolic and talk to everyone and dance with old people and eat foods that are weird and sticky!

I realized it had finally arrived as I sat in the jump seat of a huge tourist bus, the very last passenger on board. My bag stumbled around on the floor as we zipped around a rotunda more than once. The driver was simply driving, not ready to arrive at my stop. He was telling me all about his wife’s suicide. She was too tall to hang herself from any beam, so she held onto her ankles until she died. She could have simply stepped to the floor, but she didn’t. She held on. AND THIS MADE ME SO HAPPY! Not because I’m a morbid human being with a suicide obsession (although also a possibility). It made me happy because this is exactly what would be happening in my own country. I wasn’t feeling alone. I wasn’t scared of saying something wrong in Spanish. I wasn’t missing anyone. I was myself. And I had found someone who wanted to talk to me about his life, which is exactly what happens in the States. People with stories always find me. Or maybe I find them. Especially “suicide survivors.” We always seem to find each other and share stories like old ‘Nam buddies. I was myself, and he was himself. And there we were, listening to each other and driving around Spain! If we were in the US, you bet that guy would be appearing in the next Taboo Tales.

Feeling free, I danced that night until six in the morning with the Salsa champion of Italy! And after that I went to the biggest water park in Spain and GOT A FAST PASS! Then I had dinner with a piano teacher named Rosa. After that, I debated prostitution laws with a hot cop (it’s totally legal and only 20 bucks for the WHOLE SHEBANG!). Now, I am in Madrid writing this from the center of a square surrounded by Germans and luggage shops and jars of sangria and umbrellas and cigarettes and walking dogs and frozen yogurt shops and old women peering from balconies. And I feel calm and not scared and not alone. AND I NEVER WANT TO LEAVE. AND I STILL LOVE CAPITALS.

August 9, 2012

I’m not even going to think of a title.

I’m in Spain! I’m here to work on my Master’s thesis, which is about perfectionism, a disease I contracted long ago. If something I do isn’t done perfectly (speak Spanish), I get mad at myself. At least I used to. Now I’ve been working on it for two years, so I’m getting better. Look, I’ll even spell a word wierdly and leave it just like that.

Before Spain, the country of my dad’s family, my mom and I hit up Poland and Italy, the countries of her parents. It’s been an Adventure in Ancestry, a Raucus Ride into our Roots. We didn’t meet any actual ancestors though. I imagined fat Italian ladies pinching our cheeks and forcing five courses down our delicate American throats. Okay, that did happen, but they weren’t our relatives. Ancestry.com claims to be a gateway to long-lost family members, but it really just shows you records from before they had computers. While it is cool to see my grandpa’s signature on the Ellis Island register from 1937, those documents did not lead me to long lost cousins who would take me in, invite me to Ibiza, and leave me huge inheritances. I hate Ancestry.com.

Still, our trip did help us understand from where we come and why we are who we are. And after fifteen days with my mom, we were still alive. FIFTEEN days STRAIGHT after living apart for fourteen years. That’s a feat. We actually had a great time, and we learned a lot of deep things about each other like we both hate tomato seeds. She’s been back to the comfort of her own sofa and her non-spotty internet for over a week now (besides that whole storm/lack of electricity thing), which means I’ve been alone for over a week.

Being the detail-oriented perfectionist that I am, I had a list of things I was planning to get to the moment my mom swept herself back to the land of dollars. I always have a to-do list. There’s never not something to do, to write, to finish, to email, to edit, to study, to read. Since the last time I traveled in 2009, I’ve been glued to lists. And meetings. And traffic. And things and things to do.

When she left, I cried. Then I pulled out my list: Send postcards. Talk to strangers. Walk around the city. Write a book or two. Come up with a million-dollar business plan. Fall in love. Email all the people I’ve been wanting to email forever. The yoozch. The yush? The ush? The usz?

But something came up, and it’s something I’ve never done before. It’s something everyone has always told me to try, but I’ve never let myself try it for fear it would interfere with my perfectionism. It’s called: Nothing. I AM DOING NOTHING. Nothing. This is the first time I’ve written something in weeks. I haven’t peeped at an email. I’m only half writing this because I’m also watching the most fascinating Spanish game show (Joder! Tienen los mejores game shows aqui!). I’m waking up at 11am. ELEVEN! I’m taking baths for so long that my fingers actually have grown prunes on them. And when I get tired of the bath, I walk to the beach. And when I get sick of the beach, I sit at a restaurant and watch people make me food. I talk little. I wear the same thing every day. I sit silently. I didn’t even move when a huge cockroach flew through my window.

From afar, one might think I’m depressed. I probably look like someone’s just died or like I’ve just escaped a violent relationship. But I’m simply in shock. I can’t believe how great it feels to do nothing. I don’t have a TV in my apartment in America because I feel like it interferes with my productivity. And now I’ve put everything off so I can stay in and watch a semi-less trashy Spanish version of Maury Provich. It’s so good (But I don’t understand why that one guy’s long lost sister didn’t come on the show! Doesn’t she want to know her biological family? I would definitely do the show if such a nice invitation in such a big envelope arrived for me– duh, hermana!).

I’m totally letting myself not DO, and it feels pretty fucking great. It also means I’m not perfectly finishing everything I’ve set out to do. But whatever. Maybe that means I’m finally cured and I can come home. I have a whole lot of American TV to catch up on.

::I hope everyone’s out doing something patriotic today on this very special day of Independence. I passed a Burger King today!::

July 4, 2012

Tag: travel

Pink dreams do come true

Whenever you’re alone, there are always other people.

I’m not even going to think of a title.