There and Back Again

6:40 AM - I’m sat here waiting for the sun to rise, listening to the ocean sing an angry chorus, watching a distant ship with its lights shining bright (must be a cruise ship) and my heart is filled with glee. This rare moment of peace and serenity humbles me as I think about all the days of my life. I think about all my loved ones and how I wish they could see this with me. I think about all my dreams and how some of them came true, while others will forever be at bay.

This morning the moon is missing from this view, but memorable nonetheless. I take a silly picture so I would always remember this feeling, this moment for the rest of my life.

It’s been ages since I walked barefoot on the grass. And it’s been ages since I laid on the grass, on my back, looking up at the sky. Today I did both. I wanted so much to capture the moment but all I could muster was a picture of the dark clouds that hid the sun for most of the day.

On many days, I wish life could just be this easy.

Just living is not enough. One must have sunshine, freedom, and a little flower. (Hans Christian Andersen)

It’s been ages since I’ve updated but in case anyone was wondering, I’m still here. I’m still breathing. Still writing whenever time allows me. For the most part, nowadays my days are spent studying. Not fun, but I’m doing it and can’t back out anymore. A few more months and I’ll be done. Until then, I’m preoccupied and sacrificing a lot of my time…

The two bad parts of a vacation, in my opinion, are the flights to and from your destination. I wish one day, someone will invent a device where you can beam up and immediately land where you want to land – no hassles of flying and waiting at airports. You know, kind of like Star Trek? That would be so cool.

Well like all good things, my vacation to Playa del Carmen, Mexico has ended. I’m on board Jet Blue to San Francisco from Fort Lauderdale, Florida. I am miserable, as you can tell. The five-hour flight seems to last forever, and I’m only on the first hour. The captain’s announcement that we are 25 minutes ahead of schedule is hardly comforting news. I’m tired and hungry and just wilting away. I might need another vacation after this.

It’s probably best to think happy thoughts and divert my mind away from the remaining four hours. I should probably think about the Caribbean Sea and all its glory. For the last seven days, it has been the thing that greets me in the morning and wishes me goodnight in the evening. While there, we got into a routine, my sister and I. We would wake up early to walk a mile or two along the beach before the sun gets too menacing. We’d get back to the resort in time for the buffet breakfast to be served. We’d eat the usual toast, fresh fruit, fresh juice and yogurt and then walk back to our cabana, change into our suits, find a quiet spot by the beach and sit for hours on end just listening to the ocean waves or to music, people watching, or reading a book. Around lunchtime, when the sun is at its highest, we’d pack our towels and sunscreen and head back to our cabana, to decide on lunch. To dine in the restaurant or order to go – that was the question. After lunch, we would shower and sit on our hammocks to continue pretty much what we did in the morning - read, listen to music or watch people go about their business.

At six thirty we would get ready for dinner at the La Loma, where our server Jose would always say, “tonight, we have only one soup. (Insert name of soup here.) Do you want soup?” To which, my sister and I would always say yes in unison and he would scribble on his notepad. Then he’d name the entrée choices, ask us if we want anything to drink and then leave us to enjoy a nice quiet dinner, without interruptions other than the other servers delivering food and taking away empty plates. A few nights they had a mariachi band to liven up the atmosphere. Another night they offered free tequila shots. That same night, I dropped my spoon on the floor twice, which embarrassed the hell out of my sister. It wasn’t the tequila though because the next night, I dropped a spoon again. At that point, even I was embarrassed. Slippery little suckers…

After dinner, we would take the short walk back to our cabana, the sound of the ocean getting louder with each step. We walk past the empty bar, the turn off for the reception desk and the turn off for the Aventura where breakfast is served in the morning, until we get to cabana number 14, where we rest for the night only to start over again the next day with pretty much the same routine.

I loved every minute of this vacation. I’m not one to get very active during vacations – it is after all a time to unwind – so this was perfect. I wouldn’t change a thing, except maybe the part about stopping over Fort Lauderdale on the way back to home. Let’s just say I’d rather be stuck at JFK where the choices for things to do while waiting is more varied. That and the bug bites, I could have prepared for the bug bites better. Well there’s always a next time.

Time check – two hours have elapsed. Three more long hours to go before touching down and return to what’s usual and familiar. The thought of retiring in my good old bed tonight and watching TV until I fall asleep is a happy thought after being away for a week, with no access to TV or the Internet but I’m still sad that vacation is over. I always do. It’s not that familiar and usual is a disappointment, it’s just that vacations are a change of phase that we don’t experience as often as we want to so that when it ends, you are always left wanting more.

If only the beam-me-up machine I was referring to earlier could be invented – or if only port-a-holes like those used in Harry Potter were real -then I can go on vacations more often and never left feeling wanting more nor feeling miserable onboard a long flight home.

I have to go on vacation to remember to write a blog entry - probably because that’s when I’m inspired to write something. Writing after a long day at work just doesn’t do it nowadays. Where’s the fun in journaling about layoffs and salary surveys anyway? It’s a depressing topic to even think about.

As I write this, the Riviera Maya is beckoning me, wanting me to return to its warm waters while the sun bathe me in its harsh but soothing embrace. I can see a couple of kids playing football in the sand, perhaps prepping for the 2010 World Cup opener in a few days. All along the seaside, families and “singles” have spread their beach blankets and soaking up the salty wind, coarse white sand and crystal blue water. Resort guests are lounging on their palapas or – like me – swaying in their hammocks, watching the locals reclaim their beach, even for a short while, and non-locals trying to turn brown without a tanning salon. The view is distracted once in awhile by a passing go-cart like motorbike – the shore’s patrol – and by a really noisy biplane advertising free margarita nights at the Blue Parrott. Other than that, it’s a scene from a dream or from those lovely Corona Beer commercials.

I’m on an elevated cabana and from my point of view, the sea meets the sky and the world is beautiful once again. No troubles worry me here. It seems as if I’m always swaying or floating – more like floating. The wind can take me any direction it wants and I will willingly go. My heart is light as a feather, ready to take flight and never return.

The wind is blowing. Gabriel, the resort bell-hop/jack-of-all-trades, waves at me on his way to making a delivery of what looks like a bottle of wine and basket of goodies to one of the cabanas next door. In a few hours, my sister and I will go to dinner, sit at our usual spot, and be greeted by our usual server – a shy but very nice gentleman with a three-letter name, none of which are vowels. He will ask us our room number though he already knows and brings us bottella de agua, muy frio, no ice. After dinner, we will retire in the comforts of our tiny but comfortable room with a ceiling fan that spins like a maniac. The soft music from Mi’s laptop and the sound of the ocean ebbing into the darkness will lull us to sleep, as it always does. Tomorrow will be yet another gloriously lazy day, where anything – or nothing – can happen.

I’m on day three of my seven-day sojourn in paradise. The one good thing about slaving your life away with work is that you can, every now and then, buy yourself a little of piece of heaven on earth, offered at discounted price from Travelocity, if you just know how to look. (Wink, wink!) We all need a little rest and relaxation, if anything to find our inner peace and purpose in life once again. After all, all work and no play makes you dull. So you work when you work, so you can play when you play.

Until next time! From Paradise, I’m signing off.

Pondering: “I always like to look on the optimistic side of life, but I am realistic enough to know that life is a complex matter.” (Walt Disney)

Today, I celebrate another birthday. Another year older. Another step farther from the carefree days of my youth. Another mile deeper into maze of life. John Mayer, in one of his songs best summed up how I used to feel about growing old: “So scared of getting older, I’m only good at being young. So I play the numbers game, to find a way to say that life has just begun.”

But as I grow wiser with each passing year, I begin to understand and accept that there is no stopping time. Instead of holding on to the memories of my youth, I best start letting go. Accept what I cannot control and go with the flow.

A few days ago, I was watching this mini-series and one of the characters said that he read somewhere that after 25 million years we live again. We meet the same people we met 25 million years ago, love the same loves, and experience the same things over again - just like the life-span of the great heavenly stars.

I truly believe this. The thought that one day, I will meet and be with all the ones I love again, maybe under the same circumstance yet as if for the first time, comforts me when I worry about old age, the people I love and the after life.

I raise my glass for a toast and throw caution to the wind as I say to my future: Bring it on!

Pondering: One ought, every day at least, to hear a little song, read a good poem, see a fine picture, and if it were possible, to speak a few reasonable words. (Johann Wolfgang von Goethe)

I never did quite understand why my sister Myra loves the song Wild Horses so much until I listened to it last night. And I mean really listen, and understand what the song is trying to say.

Faith has been broken, tears must be cried.
Let’s do some living after we die.

Wild horses couldnt drag me away.
Wild, wild horses, we’ll ride them some day.

In the stillness of the evening, inside the peace and quite of my room, while my heart throbbed a steady hum, and my mind slowly receded to rest – I realized that this is probably one of the most beautiful love songs ever written, though it may not even be a love song. (Who knows whatever goes on in the heads of Keith Richards and Mick Jagger anyway?)

But for me, it’s a love song alright – and a sad, sad one indeed.

Pondering: Egotism is the anesthetic that dulls the pain of stupidity. (Frank Leahy)

Memes like this is always a good motivator to update one’s blog. For this one, the instruction says, “Type what comes to your mind FIRST whenever you hear these 50 words. Don’t think and don’t go back and change. Doesn’t matter how random just type it!” Here goes…