Before embarking on a trip I always wonder what the outcome may bring. What might I learn, experience or discover? When under a different tilt of the earth’s axis what will the sun shed light on? When I return home will I view myself and the world differently? I discovered I did indeed possess an outdoorsy side after Australia and New Zealand. India made me appreciate my female right to speak my mind and freedom to walk in front, side by side or without a man. London ignited the power of a dapper Saville Row suit with matching handbag and shoes.
To aid in these discoveries I’d bring along a book to read on long flights, train rides, lay-overs and T.V.-less hotel rooms. For France, I read Gustave Flaubert's
Madame Bovary. In India,
Holy Cow: An Indian Adventure by Sarah McDonald and in Costa Rica, Elizabeth Gilbert’s
Eat, Pray, Love. For Peru, I brought along a book titled
The Power of Now: A Guide To Spiritual Enlightenment by Eckhart Tolle. Perhaps I could enlighten myself spiritually (much needed) while enduring the cross country bus journeys and the week-long camping and horse trek through the Peruvian Andes, sleeping under the stars in a tent.
Months prior to my trip I visited my family and during Saturday morning coffee my Dad confronted me. “I’m really worried about you” he said. I resisted rolling my eyes back. I’ve had these dialogues many times before and expected a parental sermon on the state of my 401K, who’s doing my taxes this year or how diversified my mutual funds are.
“I’m fine Dad. I am putting the max I’m allowed per paycheck in to my 401K and the company matches dollar per dollar.”
“No that’s not what I’m talking about. Are you really going to take this trip?”
“Of course I am! It’s all planned out, flight is booked. I’m ready to go.” I chuckled.
“No, Erika, I’m being very serious here. I’m worried about you because you’re acting out of character and when someone you love is acting out of character, talking about doing things out of the ordinary, you begin to worry about them.”
“Dad! Come on! I’m not on drugs or pregnant! I’m talking about taking a horseback riding trip! Nothing could be more in character. You know me. I’ve loved horses since I was 5 years old. You were there when I first rode a horse. In fact, you were right behind my horse teasing it to go faster while I was yelling for dear life! And I’ve loved it ever since.”
“Yes, I appreciate that. I’m talking about the camping aspect of this trip. This is so out of character for you. You’ve never camped a day in your life. Do you realize what you’re getting yourself in to? Where are you going to go to the bathroom at night?”
“Well, they didn’t exactly highlight bathroom needs in the brochure but I assume I’ll just head off somewhere in private, out in nature.” I chuckled again, in vain, because a part of me knew my Dad had a strong argument. If he was a betting man he would have pooled his entire retirement savings on me not surviving this camping trip. For him, the odds were too damn good that I would bail at the thought of a squat and potty amidst nature. If I were a betting woman, I would have known that a warm chicken salad sandwich (heavy on the mayo) bought from a street side café and consumed on a hot, Sunday afternoon in the town of Cusco, Peru, is a bet NOT to take a chance on.
Story to be continued in Part II...
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Passion. Passion is just not fire, ambition and fireworks, passion can be so subtle it can be found in everyday life. Passion has such an intensity to the definition, an exuberance, however, I think it is really simple. Passion doesn’t only exist when times are high and the feast is huge and the wine is flowing. Passion is a feeling for life, whatever the circumstances; the conflicts, despair, loss, wants. It’s about finding the beauty, sensuality and the electricitiy to reignite your spirit in the everday life. I discovered passion during my trip to Argentina, a country that’s been burgeoning with passion since it’s very existence, in good times and bad. Like stopping by a gas station you can refuel your passion (for less dollars these days I'm sure) through the dance of tango. In a bar, on the dancefloor, in the living room or on the street. Tango. Tango forever.
