Saturday, November 27, 2010

Caminos Entrelazados or Intertwined Paths.

Part 3

       Early next morning I am awoken by the sun, quietly sneaking up upon the spiteful hills. As I sat there on the blistering edge of the the bottom bunk, I sprung up in anticipation,as the bed let out an awful cry. I decided that I would go in search of what I came for. Paraiso, as Romero has, and in deciding this, I got this feeling in the pit of my stomach, excitement, anticipation,and  fear. A feeling that makes you want to burst out laughing and break down crying, all at once.

I'm startled by Ernesto's footsteps walking in the room with two mango's in his hand he asks "Breakfast?"

I smiled as I grabbed a mango. "I know that look" he said as he bites into his mango, subtly  puncturing the soft of the skin, absorbing every bud of taste it had to offer, as if this were the last mango he would ever eat. I am distracted and have heard nothing of what he's said.

"Huh?" I question

"Where to today?" He pries

"Oh, I don't know..." I lie

"Paraiso?" He chuckles, and it's as if he's read the most inter-depth of my soul, it's as if I am standing there naked in front of him, in front of all of Chamula.


       We had decided on a place Romero had gone on and on about the night before. A place he called paradise, a place everyone else knew as Tulum, Mexico. We packed our things and  had forsaken Chamula, in hopes of a flawless Tulum. The ride over had been gruesome, there were chickens, dogs, and even a small pig that took passenger. I still laugh at the site of Ernesto and I sharing a seat, because a chicken next to him had left a caca on his seat. With Ernesto asleep on my shoulder, and the animals finally at ease, I pondered, why I'd fallen so hard, for a man I'd hardly even knew. All my life, I believed not in love at first sight. "Fools" I'd mock as I passed couples so lost in each others beings. And yet here I stood, a hypocrite, a pharisee of sorts. I wanted to be near him always, I wanted to know him, inside and out, I wanted to know the wrinkles in his long slender fingers. the anguish beneath his eyes and the covert arc upon his lips.

And just as my hypocrisy began to amplify, the bus jolted to a halt, and there we were, in paradise. As Ernesto and I are getting off the bus, he stops everything he's doing and turns around and kisses me. A moment that makes me feel like punching him, though I kiss him back instead. Our first kiss. With the scent of pigs breath lingering in the air, and an elbow poking into my side, I am in complete shock, felicity and anguish all at once.

                                          I am in paradise.


Monday, November 22, 2010

The Great.

Lay my head on the sober of his chest
Rest my hand in the tender of his
Kiss the firm of his chin
 No longer head west
 I've fallen in love
And he hasn't a clue
It's only because he reminds me of you

Monday, November 15, 2010


I am sitting on the bus. The roads here, aren't paved, it's been a harsh and enduring ride, my head, resting against sweat stained windows, my eyes closed, though I'm not asleep. I am partaking in this moment, this dream. A day I have dreamed of since I was eight years old. And since, this is all I've ever really wanted. No luxurious cars, dazzling diamond rings, or white picket fences.


I hear faint voices of fellow passengers, talking amongst themselves, tourists mostly, excited an anticipating our destination. As I am. And suddenly the bus jolts to a stop, I open my eyes as we pull in through wooden gates, where guards have let us pass. We're finally here.  My heart races,though I hesitate in getting up, this all seems so terribly unreal, and if it is I hope to never wake. Two women push their way out the door, and I follow, still hesitant.  One foot in front of the other I think, stepping down the rickety, worn steps. With dirt crunching beneath my feet and the smell of camel droppings lingering in the air, a sudden silence falls over the moment. I look up, to see the reason for such silence. And at this one moment tears begin to start streaming down my cheeks, and I'm am unaware of it until I taste a salty reminder, on the crest of my lips. A sight so unfathomable, you can't capture it's true justice through photos, or even words. I am in complete awe, and I don't want to move, speak or even breath. I want time to stop in its tracks, because this, is absolute beauty, absolute happiness, success, clarity and disarray.
My life feels so...I can't even form words to explain...

Then I hear it. Reality questions "Excuse me Miss, isn't this your stop?" My focus is gone, I turn to realize where I really am, on the school that is.

Monday, November 8, 2010

A year of silence.

A year of silence that kept us apart
Though I've scoured the words to get into your heart
Brittle and unpromising
I'm am left torn apart 
And tell you not of the flame 
I have long kept contained
In a small, plastic Tupperware, kept under my bed
I wait for your answer
To a question unsaid

Caminos Entrelazados or Intertwined Paths.

Part 2
     As Ernesto and I arrive in Chamula, we see endless street markets, towering cathedrals and chickens running a muck all around. The colors, sights, and smells seem to conquer my senses, and in submission of them, I am lead to a discreet little table, gluttoned with pan dulce. Every color, taste and flavor imaginable, little ones, medium ones and big, big, big ones. Ones shaped like plump watermelon slices, beefy little piggies, and silly looking ones that were lumpy and ugly all over, but tasted like home, like a memoir almost. My stomach bellowed for them all, though instead I bought one for Ernesto and I to share, I'd share my entire being with that man if I could, if he'd let me. 
I continue on to catch up with him.

I found Ernesto talking politics and sharing drinks with a local gentleman, a man who reminded me of my grandfather, both wise and demented, old in appearance, but young inside. I laugh at the thought of Ernesto in the heart of such a beautiful place, with money in his pocket, and a beautiful woman at his side, yet Ernesto spoke politics to the indigenous. This is why I love him, why I call him mine.
                                                     Ernesto, unlike the other men.

After discussing politics and stuffing our faces, with pan dulce, we head to our hostel to check in, and in exchange for 70 pesos (about 5 USD) we are taken to a room teeming with bunk beds and fellow tourists. The mattress, stained a yellowish brown and half the size of the bed itself, the room tangs of a hippies underarm, and there is one restroom to share amongst the ten of us.
                                 "This is living it up, Aeida!" Ernesto joked
                             "Sure is!" I announced as unpack to take a shower

 Ernesto and a fellow roommate awaited me, as I depart the shower. I later got to know this stranger as Romero, a man so tall I felt ashamed standing next to him, a face so perfectly sculpted, it was unfair really, short muddy brown hair, daunting hazels eyes and a smile so embracing that with just one smile I'd felt like I'd known him all my life. Romero had been migrating from Oaxaca, in search of "paraíso" he said...paradise, I understood. His English seemed to be just as horrid as my Spanish, so we got along well, with Ernesto as our interpreter of course.

Though I never could remember too much from that night, I remember Romero convincing us to  split a taxi to a nearby town, where he said some friends of his were having a party. I had remembered this one instance when Romero, a girl with a peace sign painted on her face and myself had walked down the street to get more ice, and as we were walking back, each of us, with a bag of ice in our hands, Romero inquired "What you come Mexico for?"

I throw a confused smile his way "The beauty I suppose"

"Ahh, okay I see, pues,a dónde vas manana?" (Where will you go tomorrow?)

"Yo no se" (I don't know) seemed to be the simplest route to the end of the conversation.

Though the truth was, I had absolutely no idea where I was going, or when I would stop going. I had left my life back in California, my job, school and my family. In search of something beautiful, something breath taking,something worth living for. And yet there I was, unsure of where I would go next. Though I believe that was the beauty of it, I had the world at hand.

Romero looked at me confused with only three words to say as he rested his hand on my shoulder in comfort
"Seguir tu corazon"

 My vocabulary had not yet broadened to this level, I looked at him confused.

"Follow your heart" the girl with the peace sign painted on her face explained.

These are the first words she had spoken all night,  and I will remember this moment always.

Sunday, November 7, 2010

In search of

She wandered aimlessly through the bookstores aisles
 In search of him
 A shirt, a hand, a shoe even 
Yet found nothing
 No one
Not even a scent to hold onto