the tango
whoever said that it take two to tango had us all fooled. it only takes one; you.i spent a greater part of today tripping over myself, in more ways than one. so far things have been quite peachy. few bumps, if any. even mom´s arrival at the airport and presence since has been awesome. watching her with Esmy is one of the strangest but amazing things i have ever experienced. its as if i am watching memories replay from my long ago childhood. except i am sitting in a new seat in this theatre playing the movie of my life. its astounding. the strangest high.
the day started off as spectacular as the rest. in addition, i have been put to the test with my translation skills, seeing as my mom speaks nada español (but i think its hilarious that she still tries to communicate with them in English, even though they have no idea what she is saying 90% of the time). so it was Angela, Franco, mom, and me off to el centro de Lima.
walking through el centro feels as though you are walking through 18th century Europe. the architechure. oh, the architechure! so beautiful, it felt like i was walking through postcards, street after street. every angle poised with elegance. and the people just flecks and sploches; miniscule strokes on such wonderous canvas. i was in art history paradise.
but like i was saying about the tango...it is possible to dance solo. it is in moments where it is almost as if you dancing this dance of passion and fury with two sides of yourself.
unpleasant;
ugly;
tiring.
but a tango needs music, and mine happened to be the sound of my camera falling onto a stone bench after it fell from my grasp, at the hand of a very exciting but oblivious Franco. alas...my poor camera...my 5th limb...my companion on all my adventures, was damaged beyond my own repair. for(yes) the second time.
you´d think i would have learned from abu dhabi that those flimsy hand lanyards don´t quite cut it. but no. and unfortunately, in that moment, my despair consumed me. and thus began my tango.
sometimes we are completely oblivious to this descent into tango madness. and other times, we are quite cognicient, and yet let the tango lead us away. for me, it was the latter. oh how i tried not to look; feel; be upset. but how hard it was to fight my mind´s desire to succumb to the seductive rhythm of the dance.
how foolish it all seems! in the midst of the most glorious sights in Lima, i am sour inside, like a deceptive citrus fruit. it made me realize how much we let such a dance, as it were, put us out of sorts and steal our happiness. i am discussing this situation in all honesty. and honestly, its embarassing, when i look back. but it is the truth, and i figure it needs discussing.
i feel like a hypocrite. wielding my words of apathy for this population, and regailing the solace i have found in a family; a life with so little. i have gotten such a high from it all, and yet i let myself get in the way of that continued happiness, if only for a moment in time.
this happens all to often in my old life. my north american life. between me and my family, out of 5, one person always has to be out of sorts (it would seem). which only ends up hurting us in the end. so why do we tango at all? why massarce our own happiness; our own life? what is left in this world to lay blame to?
some words come to my own mind: selfish, self-centred, self-indulgent...self, self, self...me, me, me...I, I, I. Me and I, we tango too well. as difficult as was at the time, i stopped dancing. i stopped long enough to enjoy the rest of the day. one more day in a list of thousands lived and enjoyed so far. in the hope of one more to follow.
i enjoyed exploring the San Franciscan Monastary and Museum; the sight of countless spanish paintings nearly 500 years old, still stunning after years of appreciation; a skylit library that smelled of the aging leatherbound books that consume it, and sounded of writers scratching pen to ink to paper into the wee hours; the breathtaking catacombs below that allow you to feel your way back through time, as the lives of the dead echoed throughout the winding tunnels, whispering softly into the ears of those who stop to listen.
i enjoyed the slow and scary drive up the San Cristobal mountain; a slow winding road that weaves through a tapestry of stacked slums and sarcasm, towards the top, where a 10ft cross awaits adornment. but the view from atop was one that will stay burned in my retinas forever; leaning over the edge and gazing over all of Lima and its 11 million occupants was like viewing a section of humanity under a microscope. How vast it all looked! How small and insignificant all of our earthly problems seem!
i spent most of the cab ride home enjoying conversing with Angela. the rest of my time was spent analyzing the events of the day in my mind. what a difference there can be when you let yourself enjoy things as they come - the good and the bad.
afterall what is bliss without strife? what is beauty without pain? and more importantly, what can we learn from each passing trial and tribulation?
ñp
posted by crooked girl @ 12:56 AM
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