Here
are the notes from my final morning in La Libertad, my 24hrs of
travel from the village to my apartment back in New York, and
everything in between. This won't be my final entry in our blog, but
my final one initially composed while actually in Colombia.
**
3 July
2013 620am
It is
620am and I am on a boat leaving the village I called home for the
past 8 days. There are 10 of us: a mother with a sick baby, Ben,
three sons/workers to help with supplies, Gustavo, his daughter, and
David. The boat is low in the water like the fog is low in the
forest. The breeze blows through my dirty hair and sticky clothes and
I feel refreshed though I am not at 100%. Yesterday I got some form
of heatstroke and had to sleep most of the afternoon. I still feel
like someone or something is squeezing my ribs tightly so I can't
breathe deeply but I'm a little better. No stars in my head right
now. Last night we had a small dinner and I sang a few songs. I cried
too. The hospitality I've been shown, help I've been given, humility
I've learned. The love I saw and felt, from parents to children,
siblings, cousins, and everyone to me. There is a part of me that
wonders if the feeling of not being able to breathe is my heart
breaking after all I saw and learned this week. I'm never good at
leaving – whether I'm the one going or being left behind. I've done
it plenty but it never gets easier. I'm hoping I won't have to check
my backpack from Leticia to Botoga because I won't make my flight.
24hrs
from now I will be on a train from JFK to my apartment – if I make
my flight – and there I will shower and sleep and wash clothes in a
washing machine and snuggle with my cat. I will rest for two days
before going back to work where I will speak English and work with
the general public.
But...
I will
not be woken early by obnoxious roosters. I won't hear the peal of
children's laughter at 6am and, surprisingly, not be the least bit
annoyed. I won't play duck duck goose with eager village children. I
won't be cooking on an open fire and failing miserably nor washing
clothes in water from the Amazon river. I will be eating fresh
vegetables for the first time in a week, but I will not be eating
them in a group. I will sleep in a real bed with a fan to cool me and
unlimited clean drinking water but I will be sleeping alone in my
apartment. I will have a shower and clean hair but no wild baby
monkey to sing along with me.
I won't
see millions of stars every night or the mist rise over the jungle in
the morning nor will I sing to the children in the afternoon. No
cuddling my baby dog Cani, swinging lazily in a hammock, or buying
beautiful handcrafts from the women.
It is
time to go home to what Ben calls our “vida aburrida” - our
boring life, where I do such “important” things all day to make
enough money just to get by. I really, really hope I pass my diplomat
exam and can begin my “vida de aventuras” soon.
I also
want to save money for visits. I did realize just how many things I
don't need while I was here. Who is luckier? Me to live in the
biggest city or the villagers to live in Paradise? We both struggle
with money, food, and what others need or want from us. We are not so
different after all...despite how here they live alongside the
animals, we are all still human.
David
is going to stay the day with me in Leticia because the men need to
return at 11 and my plane is not til 630 so I don't want to be alone
and sick with all of my things for that long. I am grateful he can
stay with me, but sad I will eventually have to say goodbye to him
too. I'm grateful to Ben for starting this project and being so
knowledgeable, understanding, fun, and kind. He has lived a life of
adventure – and continues to do so – and I wish for the same for
myself.
For
now...it is time to get ready to go home.
1145am
I am
alone in a hotel in Leticia with soaking wet hair, 3 backpacks, and a
stomach illness. We're fairly certain it's heatstroke again so we
decided to put me in a hotel to shower, drink, and rest while the men
find the supplies they need to take back to the village. I already
had to switch rooms because the first toilet wouldn't flush but I'm
proud of myself I was able to handle the issue alone. I'm not
thrilled with myself being sick. Rapid heartbeat, nausea, etc. :(
Also on
the trip over our motor stopped so we had to wait for another boat to
come get us and pull us to Leticia because we had no oars. What an
adventure! It was curious – we had no oars, no radio, no way to
call for help. Another family in a motorized canoe was driving by and
Gustavo flagged them down. They tied our chain to their boat and
hauled us all the way to the mechanic in Leticia, no questions asked,
no payment expected. Once again, that sense of community that I find
so lacking in the States was extended to us and got us to our
destination safely.
But,
I'm here, I'm safe, I'm resting, and I think I'll be able to leave
and get home safe. By this time tomorrow I should be in my own house
showered and resting. Happy for that but very sad this adventure is
behind me already. Seriously, how on earth can I go back to daily
life now? And how can I try not to forget what I saw, what I felt,
what I learned, while I'm stuck in the rat race?
1004pm
It is
10pm and I am alone in the airport in Bogota, soaked in sweat from a
fever that broke once I boarded my first flight, where I left
everything and everyone behind in Leticia. We went to a drogueria
(Colombian pharmacy) and I got some random Colombian drug to stop my
stomach issues before the flight but I'm not sure how much they're
helping. Strange, I now feel like I have a real reason to save more
money – so I can move to Colombia. Honestly, this too would bring
me a life of adventure, whether or not I'm able to become a diplomat.
The challenge for me will be finding a job with the language barrier
but I'm getting better and better each day. In fact I'm thinking more
in Spanish when I have to speak or read and I'm remembering more
words.
The
flight out of Leticia was long delayed and I felt incredibly sick. A
fever held me in its grasp and I couldn't do anything but wait. David
was already gone back to the hotel. No internet service and no phone
service, and no way to get water in the waiting area. So I waited in
pain and discomfort, but once aboard I was okay.
Once we
landed – on time, thankfully – I left the plane, exited the
airport, and found the international terminal. It was much closer
than I expected and though it wasn't as empty as Ben predicted, it
didn't take long to get through immigration and security. Since I had
been able to carry my maleta on from Leticia I figure I'll do the
same now. I'm fine with gate checking – I just want to make it
through.
My
plane is delayed and I'm exhausted as this is by far the latest I've
been awake since I arrived in Bogota for the first time ten days ago.
For
now, it is nearly time to put my tired, sad, dirty, sweaty, unshaven,
achy body on a plane and take a nice long nap until I wake up in my
city.
My life
is full of adventure.
One
final memory from the village I haven't written about yet, last night
we piled into a house porch and watched a poorly dubbed movie with a
host of other families. The TV is small and runs on a generator and I
don't think they have many movies to choose from. Children ranging
from breastfeeding infants to grandparents were all there, the kids
laying on the floor with limbs all over, dirty feet in each others'
hair. Couples lounged lazily touching in the heat and the teens
watched from a platform behind. I was able to understand most of the
movie and the main character's name is Sarah so the kids had a field
day with that. Again, the mix of ancient humanity and today's
technology was so strange.
**
After
that entry my final flight began boarding and I left Colombia to
return to New York. I ended up going to the doctor the next morning
(after sleeping 28 hours straight) and not being allowed to go back
to work for another few days. They're still not entirely sure what I
had, but it was some type of cyclical fever, coming and going, and I
still occasionally have woozy spells now when I overdo it. So, it
wasn't heatstroke, but for anyone considering a trip to the village,
make sure you drink your water anyway! I can't imagine dehydration
compounding whatever it was I was fighting that week – but I'm
certainly glad it waited to hit me until I was already leaving the
village, so I got to enjoy my entire stay.
Since
I've been home my priorities have shifted some, and I've started
putting plans in place to change my life. I'm taking my diplomat exam
in 3 weeks, though the odds are stacked against me, and trying to
plan one day at a time since I don't know what life will bring to me.
Amazon
Pueblo will be having another fundraising event this winter and I'm
hoping to arrange to be able to attend. I've been able to give out
most of the village-made jewelry gifts to those who donated toward my
trip. My photo album (of over 500 photos) has traveled to friends and
family with me, to tell stories and share images of what they helped
me experience. The photo album will be going to Ben to bring to La
Libertad since he will be returning before I do, and it will stay
there.
Ben
remained in La Libertad for about another month after I had to return
and he's got stories of how much things progressed once they had the
right materials. He'll write about the development of the project and
how our goals have evolved. I'm looking forward to continued
involvement in this nascent organization and helping to bring this
wonderful community to a place of sustainability and dignity.
¡VIVA
COLOMBIA!
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