Busride Contemplation
You stick your arm out, point your finger, and wave it up and down at the approaching bus. Sometimes it stops completely, sometimes you grab the rail on the door and jump in, handing the chauffeur 25 cents as you pass through the gate. I usually bump into a few people on my way to a seat as the bus lurches forward. I sit by a window, open it wide, and prop my elbow on its thin edge, chin in my hand. There is usually music blaring, and people jumping on and off the bus trying to sell things or begging for money. These half-hour trips to Guayaquil’s center are the most consistently reflective time in my life here. In the middle of the thick texture of the sights and sounds around me, wind in my face, I am still and my thoughts turn inward.

Change, maybe one of the few constants in life, has been on my mind. My first couple days back in Guasmo were full of hugs and happy reunions with all my friends here. One of the first things everyone commented on was how I had changed in the month I was gone. Most people told me I was paler or fatter than when I left. But one of my animadores looked me hard in the face last Friday night at a party and said, “You look different.”

“I’m wearing a little makeup,” I told him.

“No,” he said. “You look happier.”

I smiled. “I am happier,” I said, realizing as it came out of my mouth that earlier that day I had been climbing trees and monkey bars and sliding down cement slides with the kids in PAIC, something I never did my first 3 months here.

I feel like I have unwound, woken up somehow. I am more able to feel the texture of life around me now, smell the fragrance of rain and wet earth, loose myself in music, to really listen to those talking to me. On the bus today I was contemplating this change, and I realized something so interesting. I think I am happier now because when I was home for the holidays I worked through a lot of internal stuff, weights I’d been carrying but had been to afraid to feel when I lived here before. I feared falling into a downward spiral to much to let myself feel the depth of my emotions very often. But there is something so freeing about unconditional love, and I was so surrounded by it when I was home. I think in this atmosphere I subconsciously gave myself permission to feel, knowing when I fell I’d be caught, and I was. So I guess in summary you could say I arrived back in Guayaquil physically fatter and emotionally slimmer.

I am really hoping I can hang onto this balance. When I was home I also realized I’m ready to plant some roots, and to plant them in the US, closer to my family. I am exhausted by the constant starting over of my life, and am ready to live closer to family and good friends for a while. The hard part of figuring this out was that I had to come back here, where I so often feel lonely and as though I work too much.

There are a group of college students here right now doing health workshops for the community, and last Wednesday they had a cultural night. Zophia, from Trinidad, started the evening talking about the Caribbean, a map on the wall behind her. The crowd wanted dancing, though, and they clapped and chanted until she and I “walked up” (well, I tried anyway). Then I put on my dance music, and a group of us stayed for hours and danced. I had one of those wonderful nights where I completely lost myself in the music and just moved. I danced a lot with Leo, Jose Luis’ brother, who was just as crazy as me, dancing between stacks of plastic chairs and the kitchen counter of Mi Cometa. We moved from meringue to salsa to do-see-do-ing (sp?), to tango, the Macarena…then I busted out some dance moves to the Backstreet Boys, and then dated myself attempting the MC Hammer. The kids said we did a rain dance, because when we walked outside raindrops washed the sweat from our upturned faces.

I have moved into my apartment. It’s almost completely settled after SO many people have helped me! I love it, and I love living alone after my days are so crammed full of people and noise. It’s so nice not to share a bathroom with 5 other people, to be able to dance around my living room while I cook, sit uninterrupted at my computer, and walk around in this incredible heat in my underwear. Saturday mornings I buy my food at the market across the street, and I’m getting to know the kids on my new block. Friends always stop by, as well, which I (usually) enjoy, even if I do have to go running for clothes at their call.

My social life has also improved, although I still miss the beautiful and well-established friendships that are not here. In addition to my ever-growing friendships with the Ecuadorians at Mi Cometa, I found the Peace Corps people here finally. I met a PC volunteer in the airport, and she put me in touch with Eddie who works here in Guayaquil, and through him I’m meeting more North Americans. Eddie teaches Hip Hop, so Justin Timberlake step back.

Life seems once again to be mocking me re. men. Since getting back here, I’ve actually met some nice guys, but they’ve all been between 19 and 21 years old. Strange. When I was that age, all the guys said to me, “where will you be in 10 years?” and now that it’s almost 10 years later, the 20-year-olds seem interested in me and guys my age… ?

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- posted by little monk @ 3:19 PM