What you've done becomes the judge of what you're going to do– especially in other people's minds. When you're traveling, you are what you are right there and then. People don't have your past to hold against you. No yesterdays on the road. – William Least Heat-Moon
Tuesday, April 24, 2012 (DAY 51)
New friends are met with each step of this amazing journey and I am unbelievably grateful for the encounters that transpire in meeting each one. Earlier today, our small dorm room with two bunk beds added a girl from San Francisco, Kaya, and thereby completing the no vacancy sign for room number seven. Our sauna of a room is equally balanced as the genders are separated with the boys on one side and the girls on the other. If you didn’t know it you might have thought you walked in to a junior high school dance, but this time around I’m not wearing high water khakis with my shirt tucked and a clip-on tie, oh no, cool as a cucumber and more smooth than a babies bottom I spark up a conversation with Kaya–I know she’s gonna have fun reading this. After short introductions and having the afternoon off from class, we decide to explore the island together. The walk grows uncomfortable as feelings are shared with stories of past childhood traumas and before I know it tears begin to pour out as though Niagara Falls has opened the floodgates and the sleeve of a shirt is used as a makeshift handkerchief, but soon I am able to compose myself. Whew, that was close. I didn’t want her to think I was strange or anything.
New friends are met with each step of this amazing journey and I am unbelievably grateful for the encounters that transpire in meeting each one. Earlier today, our small dorm room with two bunk beds added a girl from San Francisco, Kaya, and thereby completing the no vacancy sign for room number seven. Our sauna of a room is equally balanced as the genders are separated with the boys on one side and the girls on the other. If you didn’t know it you might have thought you walked in to a junior high school dance, but this time around I’m not wearing high water khakis with my shirt tucked and a clip-on tie, oh no, cool as a cucumber and more smooth than a babies bottom I spark up a conversation with Kaya–I know she’s gonna have fun reading this. After short introductions and having the afternoon off from class, we decide to explore the island together. The walk grows uncomfortable as feelings are shared with stories of past childhood traumas and before I know it tears begin to pour out as though Niagara Falls has opened the floodgates and the sleeve of a shirt is used as a makeshift handkerchief, but soon I am able to compose myself. Whew, that was close. I didn’t want her to think I was strange or anything.
Reaching the more remote side of the island, I am still amazed at the beauty of the sea as it meets the horizon. The clouds are billowed together in a variation of blues and light purples mixed together in the creation of a scene that Bob Ross would have more happy little clouds than happy little trees, and yet again, I am thankful for having the opportunity to stand here and witness this amazing, breathtaking view. In the silence of appreciating our surroundings, my thoughts continue to return to living life to the fullest by pursuing a dream without haste, and the corners of my mouth develop a smile that I am unable to hide. Standing with my eyes closed as the light ocean breeze pushes against my skin, I just wish so many others could feel the peace and tranquility that I have come to embrace daily.
The sun is soon gone, and with it, the thought of dinner has my mouth watering. Excited for some good food with excellent company, unfortunately Coco and Danela have already ate and I am forced to submit to plan b, the Canadians. My newly acquired arch nemeses from class, Krista and Emily, have invited me over for dinner, to what is now referred to as “our house.” Unsure of arriving alone and being forced into a cult of aboot its, maple syrup, and the dreaded Canadian tuxedo, I invite Kaya, who ends up being our cook for the evening, yeah go Merica. Our family style dinner is balanced properly like that of North America, and we can avoid a conflict between Uncle Sam and the unwanted ginger stepchild that is also known as America Junior.
Pooling together all of our food that we have stored away like squirrels, we have just enough to create a meal that could surpass a Vlad style dinner where everything is made from scratch and you’re not allowed to leave the table until you have traded up at least two notches on your belt, ok that was a complete lie, but with the limited resources and funds to create this family style dinner it was certainly better than the peanut butter sammiches I have been eating the last few days. Pasta with tomato sauce and mushrooms, garlic bread, and even a freshly made salad we appeared to have all of the food groups accounted for and I know my mom would be proud. The small one bedroom private house continues to be full of laughter for the rest of the night before walking home under a sky full of stars with a faint smell of the ocean, and it has been a Tuesday night that will not be quickly forgotten.
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