I see my path, but I don't know where it leads. Not knowing where I'm going is what inspires me to travel it.
– Rosalia de Castro
Wednesday, July 4, 2012 (DAY 122)
This is my first Fourth of July outside of the United States and you would think I would be celebrating with other Americans, but I find myself stuck with a Kiwi, Nikki. Just moments after bidding farewell and good riddance to Krista at the free shuttle pick up in front of the Taco Stop I hear a familiar voice calling my name. Walking towards me from across the single lane street is the fair skinned girl with dark hair I met several months ago in San Pedro La Laguna, Guatemala that lived down the narrow walkway just behind my apartment. The reunion comes as I am making my way to the beach, but welcoming the company we set out on a walk around SJDS instead. The typical topic of conversation of where we have both been over our time of separation begins what will become our daylong adventure together. Upon reaching the limits on the other side of the miniature Golden Gate Bridge that seems to be slightly out of place, we walk back towards the main strip of grass huts that line the beach. Sliding off our flip flops to walk bare foot on the sand as the surf creeps up over our skin, we can’t help but laugh at the stories and experiences each of us has had in the absence of the other. I tell her of Roberto’s determination to bicycle from El Salvador to Managua, only to have his lone form of transportation stolen only a few days after purchasing the tank of a bike, and how he was left without a choice and was submitted to sleeping in seedy motels that charged by the hour. Oh, the things we do in order to survive that would otherwise have us disgusted beyond belief. This, is Central America.
This is my first Fourth of July outside of the United States and you would think I would be celebrating with other Americans, but I find myself stuck with a Kiwi, Nikki. Just moments after bidding farewell and good riddance to Krista at the free shuttle pick up in front of the Taco Stop I hear a familiar voice calling my name. Walking towards me from across the single lane street is the fair skinned girl with dark hair I met several months ago in San Pedro La Laguna, Guatemala that lived down the narrow walkway just behind my apartment. The reunion comes as I am making my way to the beach, but welcoming the company we set out on a walk around SJDS instead. The typical topic of conversation of where we have both been over our time of separation begins what will become our daylong adventure together. Upon reaching the limits on the other side of the miniature Golden Gate Bridge that seems to be slightly out of place, we walk back towards the main strip of grass huts that line the beach. Sliding off our flip flops to walk bare foot on the sand as the surf creeps up over our skin, we can’t help but laugh at the stories and experiences each of us has had in the absence of the other. I tell her of Roberto’s determination to bicycle from El Salvador to Managua, only to have his lone form of transportation stolen only a few days after purchasing the tank of a bike, and how he was left without a choice and was submitted to sleeping in seedy motels that charged by the hour. Oh, the things we do in order to survive that would otherwise have us disgusted beyond belief. This, is Central America.
When I pause and think back to my favorite Fourth of July, there is no hesitation in my thoughts, it was with my ex-girlfriend Nichole. I’m not sure what sparked this thought years later, but for some reason it did. I think back to that hot summer night after just finishing shooting camera for the Rapid’s soccer game where I hurried to meet her and her family outside of Dick’s Sporting Good’s Park, what a mouthful, where they already had a blanket set out on the grass to enjoy the upcoming fireworks show. We had recently taken a break, but seeing her sitting there with her soft emerald eyes and wavering brunette hair in the summer breeze, I took a seat next to her where she was waiting with an inviting smile. Taking a seat next to her I placed her hand in mine where our fingers intertwined becoming one just as the darkened sky began to be illuminated with the explosive colors. I know that since then she has gotten married, and I wish her the best, because that relationship taught me a lot about myself, and, even more about what I want.
After our stroll down the beach, Nikki and I decide to stop off at what has become one of my favorite places to watch the sunset, Iguanas. Climbing up the stairs to the second floor patio, we take a seat at a table at the edge of the railing and stare out at the bay. The rolling clouds overhead move out to sea causing the rays from the fading sun to softly add bursts of color continually changing the pigments from tangerine to magentas and we both agree that this is a special place. Ready to change the topic before Nikki starts professing her love to me through poetry or some form of expressive dance, I tell her that I am eyeing our waitress with the single gold tooth that glimmers when she smiles because she reminds me a pirate wench. And I challenge any guy that does not have an affinity for a pirate wench, and if they say no, I declare liar across the board. This thought also reminds me of the smelly pirate hooker that does not cease to harass me, one Mr. Jesse Hyter from Columbus, Ohio. I know I am ashamed to admit to knowing this unlikely fellow, but since our days as college roommates I cannot shake this unkempt ogre and his band of deformed Buckeyes. I will, however, stand and applaud his girlfriend Ashely for sticking by his side through all of the monthly monetary payments and trip to Cabo, but I am sure she is tired of wearing the paper bag over her face in public. Even without meeting her yet, I know she will have a great laugh at, who else, but her boyfriend’s expense. What else can I say, but, there are two hundred and eight kinds of cereal our there and you have to repeat Count Chocula, seriously?! In closing, let me just say that this was a great Independence Day and I am reminded what this holiday is truly about, the day that Will Smith saved us from an alien invasion, God bless America.
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