Yes, it is.
Usually, it's sunshine and fruits and widely available wi-fi. At least I do my best to make sure it is, wherever I'm staying in this lovely land. Is that because I want to share six million photos of brightly colored houses and trucksful of dangling fruit on a daily basis?
No, that's just a fringe benefit. I need a sweet solid internet connection because I have to, must, feel absolutely forlorn if I don't, talk to my family every night before bed (for me. It's before dinner for them.)
There have been very few nights over the last seven weeks where I intentionally skipped a call. I have this whole thing, where I talk to my best friend in the world, Geza, whatever little people are hanging around the house, say some iloveyous and goodbyes, end the call, quit Skype, and cross the day off of my calendar, with a little feeling of relief that I'm one day closer to being back with them.While it is true that I am having one of the times of my life, it's no coincidence that I made the decision to travel in this modern era I like to call The Jetson Years.
I don't think I could have gone so far from those I love most, for so long, back in The Flintstone Years (aka: all the years before I turned 25)
Come, Climb Molehill Mountain With Me:
Having done a fair amount of work during the first part of my trip, the plan now is to check out something cultural. Last year, I had the privilege of attending the Festival Folclórico en Ibague.
This year, I made arrangements to visit Santa Elena's Feria de las Flores, in the mountains to the west of Medellin. I kissed my host family good by and traveled many miles to a room in a country house I had booked.
It was rustic,
peaceful
rural
...and the internet was down. It had been down for a week, and fellow farmmates were burning up all of their cell minutes waiting on an automated repair line that kept auto-promising repairmen would come, and guess what? They never came. I managed a couple of messages from the public library's free wifi, to let interested parties know I had arrived safely, then returned to the farm and waited all day, and then another whole day, for the elusive figure who was fabled to make internets where there were none.
I love you Facebook, but I could live without. I love you blog, even though you're called a "blog," but I could live without you. I love you internet, but I must be able to live without you. When I feel that whiny Gollomesque attachment to <fill in the blank here> (suggestions: internet, ice cream, laziness, hip hop dancing movies) it feels like something I have work on.
Sometimes, you have to recognize that you must be the outside force acting on your own inert self and learn to love the feeling of challenging your limitations.
So somewhere around 24 hours in, I remembered that traveling is a regular plate of surprises with a warm roll (with it) on the side. I decided to enjoy the situation. After all, I got to saw this wood,
and hang out with this dog,
on this porch,
and later by this fire,
all while reading this book.
If I had been able to share road pictures and stream episodes of Derek on Netflix, I would have read a lot less of a story I should have read many years ago.
The last line on the page, where Jim says he's rich because, by running away from slavery, he owns himself, is just another example of the fact that Mark Twain knows what's up. I want to see this book turned into a movie, and not one where anyone on the cover is smiling.
The Adventures of Huckleberry Finn, while funny at times, does not flinch in its depiction of the stark realities of slavery, domestic abuse, alcoholism, poverty, and societal hypocrisy. Please see book cover photo, squinty grimacing or get out.
What with all the drowsy dogs, warmth, and wonderful writing, it was one of the nicer evenings I've had in my whole life; all brought to me by Undesirable Circumstances.
Before turning in for the night, I stood on the porch and watched the moon rise. Gazing at inky clouds turning pearly as they moved across its resplendent face, I felt that peaceful resignation that comes when you realize the internet guy is never going to arrive. That's when I faced facts: Unless I did something drastic, I was about to spend many more nights in the same peaceful, edifying, old fashion, without talking to these faces even once.
So, I booked a room in the closest cheapest hotel I could find and got the heck out of there today.
The End.
I love you, family.
