January 2, 2011. Can you believe it? On the 1st of every year, we all take a moment to think back on what has happened in the last 365 days. And we ask ourselves, where was I this day last year?
Merida, Mexico is known as the heart of the Yucatan. The central plaza is constantly crowded with young couples making out, a mariachi band, street vendors selling elotes (sweet corn with cream and chile powder) and Nutella crepes (yes, I indulged), and a man screaming bible verses through a megaphone. The mercado takes over a good portion of the town and in the words of cheesy travel-writing, I felt one with the people as I wandered through the crowd buying grapes and trying not to vomit when I passed the rows of dead meat.
But New Year's Day was not anything like it was the day before. The city of 1 million people was shut down. When I went running in the afternoon, it was like walking through Mexican Pleasant Ville. It was as though I had stepped into Jim Carrey's Truman Show, but with houses painted brilliant shades of reds, greens, yellows, blues, and flamingo pink. The only people on the streets were confused tourists wondering how this dead city could possibly be the heart of anything, a lady slopping water on the sidewalk in front of her house, and a few stumbling men who didn't realize the drinking from the night before had come to an end.
So as I ran through the eerily deserted streets, I took the time to reflect on my last 365 days . .
Exactly 1 year ago today, 1/2/2010, I was packing for 2 months in Guatemala. I was preparing for the trip that would instigate my desire to travel and my urge to learn Spanish. I got a glimpse of what it felt like to be pushed out of my comfort zone and tested. I got only a glimpse but was left wondering, could I do this for longer? When I returned to Albuquerque in March, my thirst to "get out" was not satisfied, but rather fueled.
I think back on the 7 months I spent from April to October, pretending I liked my marketing job and fully admitting I didn't like my waitressing one. I realized good relationships need to come to a close sometimes, even if it means tossing yourself into that scary place of limbo. Why is it we sometimes tend to feign happiness just because doing what we really desire is too . . . unknown?
I think back on how this trip came to be. Confused about life and where I wanted it to take me next, I was certain about one thing. I needed a new experience, a new place. Whether that was moving to NYC or Chicago or Peru, I craved that feeling of pushing your own envelope, of beginning anew. I spontaneously shot a quick email to Amanda, working for United Nations' media in NYC - she's got to know of something, I thought. My email was titled: Life Changes, not really realizing how foreboding that title, which soon became a thread of 25 replies, really was. Within a few weeks, we had a plan. Within a week more, we had tickets (1 for the wrong day - perhaps that, more than anything, is a sign of what a strange, scatterbrained year it has been).
Not a week passes when I don't lean across the table and ask Amanda, "Remember when we bought a one-way ticket to Panama?" Pinch me please. 365 days after I first set out for Central America, I am once again surrounded by Spanish, and pushed out of my comfort zone daily.
So there's my reflection. But I suppose every New Year's comes with the imminent question which we sometimes shy away from, what next?
What is next? Well there's Ecuador, Peru, Chile, Argentina, and perhaps Paraguay!! And then, you ask. Exactly, I answer. Amanda is flying to Egypt to visit her brother and I . . . well, I don't know. And while this is quite possibly the most liberating situation I think one could be faced with - to be able to go anywhere, it is also scary. What would you do with no strings attached but a $50/month student loan? I want to return to school, but to study what? I want to move to Chicago or San Francisco or NYC, but to do what? I can't explain how strange it is to not have a plan or a routine. And while I feel as though I am currently thriving off this lifestyle, I must admit (even to myself) that I could not do this forever. Why is it we crave structure in our lives? Why does society hammer into us the need to have a career? And mostly, why do I cringe so much from the question: So what do you do back in the States? Perhaps then, as I look at 2010 as a year of changes and realization, I will look at 2011 as becoming more and more OK with my response to that question: I don't know yet.
"Be patient towards all that in your heart remains unsolved. Try alone to love the questions."
- Rainer Maria Rilke
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