a blue true dream of sky
Aug. 28th, 2008 04:48 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
deviIt might take me a while to find the words to describe this last week. Certainly longer than I have before I go to catch my plane. It´s been beautiful and difficult and scary and glorious and exhilarating and I may never be the same again. Of which, hopefully, more later. But now I´m starting the long journey home. Flying to Lima tonight, and tomorrow night setting out on the punishing 18-hour flight.
I´m going to miss this town, the river view and the noisy motocarros and the heat that manages to be both baking and humid, the street tat sellers and the hymns drifting from the door of the cathedral. I´m going to miss the forest, with all its noise and swarming life and tangible spirit. I´ll even, in a perverse way, miss the endless variety of crazy bugs. They crawled in and out of cracks in the walls of the cabin I was staying in: shiny red ones, big brown crickets, a preposterous creature maybe 4cm long with big glowing green patches on its shoulders, like headlamps. Sometimes a golden sheeny lizard that moved like liquid would come in and hunt them. I watched the drama from my hammock in the candlelight. They couldn´t get me there.
The thought of home is so strange. "You´re going to have withdrawal symptoms," Dan said on the phone earlier, "I´ll have to get loads of plants to put around the flat." "Can you imitate bird calls too?" I asked him, and he obliged till I creased up with laughter against the wall of the phone booth.
And yet. I was dreading having to stop being Travel Me. I love being Travel Me. But since yesterday I´m almost eager to be back. I have a new sense of purpose. Get back home, do the next bit, throw myself at all my tasks and projects. Next! Bring it on! Woo!
Shame those things - and boyfriend hugs, and sprawling sleep without worrying about insect repellent - are on the far side of a horrible long leg-crampy itchy-face journey that goes through the Kafkaesque nightmare of US customs. But enh.
So down to the Anaconda Craft Market to grab a few last souvenirs, and then the last motocarro ride, and goodbye Amazonia. It´s been a great pleasure making your acquaintance. One day I´ll be back.
I´m going to miss this town, the river view and the noisy motocarros and the heat that manages to be both baking and humid, the street tat sellers and the hymns drifting from the door of the cathedral. I´m going to miss the forest, with all its noise and swarming life and tangible spirit. I´ll even, in a perverse way, miss the endless variety of crazy bugs. They crawled in and out of cracks in the walls of the cabin I was staying in: shiny red ones, big brown crickets, a preposterous creature maybe 4cm long with big glowing green patches on its shoulders, like headlamps. Sometimes a golden sheeny lizard that moved like liquid would come in and hunt them. I watched the drama from my hammock in the candlelight. They couldn´t get me there.
The thought of home is so strange. "You´re going to have withdrawal symptoms," Dan said on the phone earlier, "I´ll have to get loads of plants to put around the flat." "Can you imitate bird calls too?" I asked him, and he obliged till I creased up with laughter against the wall of the phone booth.
And yet. I was dreading having to stop being Travel Me. I love being Travel Me. But since yesterday I´m almost eager to be back. I have a new sense of purpose. Get back home, do the next bit, throw myself at all my tasks and projects. Next! Bring it on! Woo!
Shame those things - and boyfriend hugs, and sprawling sleep without worrying about insect repellent - are on the far side of a horrible long leg-crampy itchy-face journey that goes through the Kafkaesque nightmare of US customs. But enh.
So down to the Anaconda Craft Market to grab a few last souvenirs, and then the last motocarro ride, and goodbye Amazonia. It´s been a great pleasure making your acquaintance. One day I´ll be back.
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Date: 2008-09-03 03:52 am (UTC)