"Joshua," he remembered his mother saying to him, a very, very, long time ago, "One day we'll go to Europe. You, me, Daddy, and Kikay." She looked back to the TV screen, where a young cartoon woman began to cry as she reunited with her long lost grandmother. He remembered not taking his mother seriously, only being interested in finding another peanut butter jellybean somewhere in the bag they bought earlier that afternoon.
"Aye, my god. Paris... London... It's always been my dream to go to all those places before I die. We'll go. One day. Maybe. When we win the lottery."
Many, many years later, as he pedaled his way past the Arc de Triomphe, past the Louvre, and past la Bastille, this tiny fragment of a memory, however minimally detailed, surfaced to his conscience. Almost colliding with a parked car, he pulled into an alley and locked his bicycle.
He had fallen in love with the City, that much was obvious. Throughout his travels, he never regretted any of the places he had gone, but was always asked,
Why did you choose to go there?
His initial answer was simple: I want to touch each continent before I die. Upon further consideration, he realized that different reasons brought him to different countries. India: where he would experience sensory overload. Uganda: where he would learn to appreciate a much more simple life. Australia: where he would find how much more he needed to grow. Argentina: where he would experience passion, firsthand. But France?
Where he would live a dream - his or his mother's, that wasn't clear - at the end of a dream year. Why the rest of his family never made it to Europe, he couldn't exactly understand. He had made it here without the lottery [although the definition of lottery was now in debate], accomplished before the end of the first quarter of his life.
"Don't worry about your mother," Betty said in Argentina, "If she didn't travel somewhere, she had her own reasons."
As he walked past the patisserie full of macaroons and tartelettes, he couldn't help but think, How fair is it that I got to live her dream before she did? A tiny pang of guilt tugged at his stomach.
In Australia, Philip had once expressed hesitation in becoming a
parent. "I think the real challenge in being a parent," he argued,
"would be to help my child find happiness. And if my son or daughter
could say one day that they found happiness, I know I'd have done my
job."
Later that night, he would take his camera out of his bag and snap a picture of himself with a flower-shaped cone of gelato. Maybe it was the mix of raspberry and chocolate, or maybe it was the first night that felt like summer, or maybe it was just the good company with whom he had dinner. Happiness had been sitting there with him so far this year, and he was sure that it wouldn't leave afterwards.
Once upon a time, in a faraway land close to where you sit, lived a young computer programmer and his wife in a small suburban townhouse. Traveling from an even fartheraway land, the young couple had moved in hopes of raising their children in a land rich with opportunity, hope, income, and monounsaturated fats. Slowly building a stable foundation for a home, the computer programmer and his wife worked tiresome days. Life in the faraway land was hard, but much more inspiring and worthwhile than their even fartheraway homeland.
~*~
"Do not worry, dear wife," the computer programmer said [in the language of his fathers] one day, "for all this hard work will pay off, when we send our children to particularly wonderful academies where they will become exemplary models of society by taking on careers in medicine or law."
In her free time, the computer programmer's wife would tend to the small grove of trees outside their home, where she grew some few fruits. One particularly sunny afternoon on the day of the Earth Festival, as she went to water the trees, she was surprised to find all the plants gone. In their place stood a single mango tree.
"My! Whatever must have happened to my fruits?" She gasped [in the language of her mothers], and before she could run to call the local constables and file a missing persimmon's report, she stopped to listen to the increasingly loud sound of crying. It came from the tree. As she stood underneath its shade, she was taken aback to watch as one of the tree's blossoms opened, and out sprang a baby boy, who landed in her arms. The computer programmer's wife took the child back into the house, where she waited to tell her husband of the good news.
~*~
The young couple declared themselves the proud parents of the baby boy, whose head was covered in an unusual amount of thick hair, dark as a raven's wings and unruly as Britney Spears' career. Fond of constant squirming, shiny objects, staying awake at odd hours, and sweets, one could have mistaken the young child for a woodland creature. As the baby's first birthday - which, they decided, fell on the same day as the Earth Festival - drew near, the computer programmer and his wife sent invitations to all of the village people to meet at the YMCA and partake in the traditional cakes and meats of their homeland.
The baby's birthday was a wonderful one, filled with laughter and music, hairstyles, and shoulder pads from the eighties. The wife, being the social butterfly she was, had even attracted the three local fairy godmothers to attend her baby's birthday. Being godmothers, they of course knew this baby was not like other babies.
"He must be protected," the first godmother said, "so he can become what he was sent to this earth to be. Accordingly, we've decided our gifts will be used for that very purpose. My gift will be the gift of natural wit and humor. May he always use his mind to get out of questionably tight and/or awkwardly uncomfortable situations." She waved her wand over the child.
"My gift," the second godmother said, "will be the gift of health. May he always be fit to take on any physical task, energetic to run on however much calories he has or has not consumed, and enduring to stay up during late hours of the night for hearty partying and/or schoolwork." She waved her wand over the child.
Before the third godmother could give her gift, the great doors of the YMCA blew open, upon whom entered an evil wizard.
"It's quite unfortunate that I wasn't invited to your baby's party. And from what I understand, you wish this boy to become a respectable man of medicine or law? Is that what you wish him to be, what you hope will make him and yourselves happy? Not if I can help it, being the antagonist with a brief cameo! Therefore my gift," he said, drawing out his wand, "will be that the boy will grow up as a beast from this day forth! Not only will he grow up in ridicule for his looks, fashion sense, poor eyesight, and questionable life choices, he'll also suffer poor orthodontics. He'll never be happy! Oh, and to ensure it, your family will suffer misfortune as well." The wand was waved and the wizard vanished.
"Not to worry, I still have my gift," the third godmother said, "but I cannot remove the curse. True, the baby will grow up as a beast. But the curse will be removed if he can find happiness." She waved her wand, and all three godmothers disappeared from the party.
"That was ever so vague a gift," the computer programmer said to his wife, "But I'll assume that by finding happiness, she must mean that he'll earn loads of money by being a man of medicine or law. Besides, one doesn't need to be particularly good-looking to receive a proper education."
~*~
~*~
As the years passed, the baby grew into a young adult. Firmly believing that no cursed Beast son of his would become subject to bullying or shipwrecks , the Beast's father enrolled him into karate and swimming classes. Sure enough, the Beast swiftly became an outsider amongst his peers with his secondhand clothes, his spectacles, lack of athletic ability, and orthodontic apparel. Unlike the other boys in his class, he preferred to read literature, create art, solve puzzles, and generally apply himself to the school's science club. All of this raised the Beast's father's hopes in becoming a great man of medicine [this and the fact that his wife had given birth to a daughter, uncursed by a wizard, who would double the family's chances of success]. As the wizard prophesized, the computer programmer had soon fallen victim to the faraway land's economic crisis, lost his job, and became a small sandwich shop owner.
Of course, this merely meant that the Beast would work in the store, where he would roll sandwiches, sweep floors, and deliver food in poorly decorated automobiles instead of partaking in underage alcoholic shenanigans, like so many of his peers.
Yes, the wizard succeeded in shattering the Beast's self-esteem. At family gatherings, many guests would comment on his sister and cousin:
"My, look at the daughter! How she looks so much like her mother. How beautiful."
"Ah! And her cousin! How she too looks so much like her mother. Beautiful as well."
But when they looked at the Beast?
"Oh. And this is the son."
One day in the sandwich shop, the Beast asked his mother and father, "Mother, Father, when will I cease to be so beastly?"
"When you find happiness," his mother said as she sliced bell peppers.
"That's what the fairy godmother said, so we can only assume that's when you bring honor to your ill-fated family" piped up his father over the ham slicer.
The Beast found this particularly strange. Having always read fairy tales, he was sure that true love's kiss would break a curse. And, considering he wasn't waiting atop a tower, the Beast hesitated about asking if the 'happiness' he had to find was a someone rather than a something. Never considering himself particularly prince-ly or heroic, the Beast continued to place cheddar on bread, pondering where he could find happiness.
~*~
One day during his first year, whilst running for a physical improvement course at his academy, the Beast was almost knocked into concussion by a rogue basketball [thrown by an ogre and his band of horrid ogres who were much more physically developed for their age].
"Oh athletics!" the Beast cried to the heavens, "Why must you be my downfall in higher learning?!?!?!"
"Fear not, dear Beast," a soft voice said. The Beast turned, and saw a fairy godmother appear where the basketball had landed. "There is a way for you to avoid taking any more of these unnecessary so called 'physical education' classes. If you truly want to grow, join the circus performers. Dance with them."
"But they would never take me! I've never performed, nor danced before!" the Beast exhasperated.
"I can help with that. I helped you once, and I will help you again. After all, it's where you're meant to be. You'll never have to lie in the dangerous shadow of any more basketballs. However, because your state is one of few in that requires 4 years of physical education, you'll still be forced to participate in unnecessary physical examinations [involving an ridiculous amount of running, situps, pushups, and stretches] twice per year."
"Oh, thank you, Fairy Godmother!" The Beast fell to his knees. "I'll be forever grateful to... to... to..."
And thanks to Orchesis, the Beast did in fact befriend a considerable number of creatures, persons, and imaginary hallucinations in the faraway land's local high school's circus ring. Here, he met mysterious persons from foreign lands, giants, little people, rhinestone artists, princesses, fortune tellers, chefs who cooked bugs, and even the occasional hypochondriac. 'Twas amongst this motley group of performers the cursed beast decided to best use his talent of poor public speaking skills, martial arts body awareness, and general lack of self-esteem in the art of dance.
"My, I'm doing wonderfully courageous and different things for a Beast my age," the Beast said to himself one day, "and no doubt I've enjoyed it, with the eclectic group of friends I've made. But why am I still so Beastly?" He frowned at his reflection in the mirror. Happiness hadn't hit him yet.
~*~
~*~
Nearing the end of his high school career, four years later, the Beast's family was hit with yet more trauma and turmoil from the wizard's curse. Due to poor location, terrible seasons, and lack of karaoke participants, the sandwich shop had closed and the Beast's father had been stricken with heart disease [the even fartheraway land's traditional meals held a surprisingly high level of cholesterol]. The Beast's mother had sold herself as slave to an evil department store corporation, leaving the Beast and his sister to fend for themselves in the rapidly deteriorating townhouse.
"But... But... But how will I afford college? Can I even apply?" the Beast cried in agony one afternoon.
"Mayhaps, dear Beast Brother," his sister replied, "I can quit school and take up lanyarding or churning butter or embroidery and earn money for your education."
"Fear not, dear Beast," a heavenly voice said, and the Beast and his sister turned to see yet another one of his godmothers. "Like Orchesis, I can help your life. There is a way to get a proper education, given your current situation. Apply, and I will help get you into the right schools. After all, it's where you're meant to be."
"Oh, thank you, Fairy Godmother!" The Beast jumped for joy. "I'll be forever grateful to... to... to..."
And thanks to Fafsa, the cursed Beast did get into a school, and a very special one at that. Located even farther away from his home, in the frozen lands of the north, lay a quiet and hidden academy for intellectually and/or monetarily gifted youngsters. Here, the students were considerably different than the ones in his high school and circus group. Although the diversity in this academy was roughly the same as his high school's, the tolerance was considerably higher. 'Twas amongst the peers here that the Beast began to accept his and other physical and mental differences with a reasonably liberal frame of mind and attitude.
"My, I've earned the incredible chance of going to an esteemed instution to further my personal growth and education," the Beast said one day, "and no doubt I've enjoyed it, with the all-night paper writing, the delicious all-you-can-eat buffets, the rush for greater academic understanding, several failed attempts at relationships, and the uneasy levels of racism and homophobia on campus. I've made friends who will last for my entire life, not-friends who pushed me in all the right directions, un-friends who made me realize what constitutes a friend, and the occasional fleeting friend who I'm sure would have been a best if we hadn't been together for just a moment. But why am I still so beastly?" Again the Beast frowned in the mirror. Happiness was doing a good job of hiding itself.
~*~
Before he knew it, four years had passed at the academy, yet the Beast still remained a Beast. Graduation swiftly approached, and the Beast had come to two realizations.
"I don't want a career in medicine AND I don't have a job for post-graduation! This will be my ruin!" the Beast cried, tearing some hairs from his scalp.
"You can always live with your parents back in their cottage," one of his chambermates said.
"Or you can just move to the metropolitan area without a job and find one once you're there," another chambermate suggested.
"OR you can sign away two years of your life to the Peace Corps, where you'll only have five days of vacation in the entire time to see your family and friends," the final offered.
"They all sound like the rustlings of Death's robes!" the Beast threw himself upon the nearest oversized cushion.
"Fear not, dear Beast," a heavenly voice said, and the Beast and his chambermates turned to see the third of his godmothers. "Like Orchesis and Fafsa, I can help your life. There is a way to live after the supposed best four years of your life;to which, I must say, if it were true, I would be highly disappointed. See the world and do what you love for one year. Apply, and I will help you travel to lands of which you and your family have dreamed! After all, it's where you're meant to be."
One year? Could it be true? This would give him some time to figure things out...
"Oh, thank you, Fairy Godmother!" The Beast fainted upon her lap. "I'll be forever grateful to... to... to..."
And thanks to Watson, the cursed Beast did get to travel and to do what he loved. Inhaling the smells of the east, swimming in the southern oceans, coasting along red-dusted plains, and wandering the brightly lit streets at night, the Beast felt... different. In his journeys, he had met friends, made family, and learned from would-have-been-enemies-in-another-life. A certain rush filled his lungs evertime he set foot on a street he had never walked before, entered a restaurant or bar alone, and saw the sun rising and setting from a new horizon.
"My, I've earned the chance to travel to foreign lands where I will certainly unearth some long-harbored secrets and experience scary but refreshing awakenings," the Beast said one day, "and I've no doubt enjoyed it, with experienced chilied foods, stranger hospitality, dressing in women's clothing, hostile partners, and questionable skin deisease. All this, I had the chance to do while studying, doing, living what I love. But why am I still so..." the Beast didn't finish his sentence. He stared at the mirror, and noted that some things did change. No, he didn't turn into a prince [unlike most Disney movies, but he was certainly considering his followed the Dreamworks/Pixar route] with golden curls and a square jawline. The Beast saw himself, still as a Beast, but only a few years older. What did change was the way he looked at himself, his life, his world. There was only so much that he couldn't control, but so much more that he could [with the help of fair godmothers, of course].
Living with what he was given, it was time to stop trying to change everything he was and to start changing the way he lived. The Beast was done lying in wait for someone to save him, to remove the curse he was given since birth. He was done doing what was expected from him, and to follow that twist in his stomach and shiver down his back. He now realized that finding happiness, but the act of looking for it that would make him stop feeling like the Beast his life made him out to be.
~*~
~*~
Far from everything and everyone familiar, he knew now that whatever happened, happened for a reason. He might not have been a prince, or even the hero, but in this story, the only person he could save was himself. Wherever this chain of events lead him, he followed, and it all surprisingly turned out very well. The Beast wouldn't know if it lead towards happiness, or if it was all just an awakening to the fact that somewhere down the line,
he. could. find. it.
Maybe it would happen this year, or maybe it wouldn't. Yet. But the Beast got an unsettlingly good feeling that he had already begun to change, to be a little less
Betty [preparing to leave the apartment]: Ah Joshua, how are your tango classes?
Me [looking up from jar of dulce de leche]: It's... okay. B [concerned]: How do you mean? M: It's already been three weeks, and I still can't lead. B: But you are just eh beginner. M: I know, but when I lead, most people who dance with me get frustrated and tell me that I need more force from the body, esfuerza del cuerpo. But when I try doing that, I feel like I'm just ramming my chest into theirs. B: Ah but ees not just eh force. Eets ah... ahn energy. Eets eh feeling. Eet has to come from here [clutches her abdomen] and that's when you connect with another person. When you hear tango, don't you feel eet here?
-| As seen at La Viruta |-
M [nodding slowly with raised eyebrows]: Si... B [raising her eyebrows]: Are you sure? M: No... B: When I hear tango, I... [she shivers] Eet ees like when you make love. You must, I forget how you say... [Silence in which Betty looks off into the distance.] M: You can say it in castellano. B: Entregarse. Without that, eets just eh dance. And tango ees not just eh dance. Without entregarse, there ees no connection, eets just moving. Without- M [finding the translation on GoogleTranslate]: -To surrender. Entregarse is to surrender. B: Si. Without surrendering, you are just moving. Without that, eet ees just sex. But with eet, eets making love. M: So I have to surrender to my partner? B: Si. For me, you have to have that feeling, or you won't understand eet. For me, tango and making love are the same. That's why I like doing both. [Slinging her bag over her shoulder, she turns to leave the apartment.] Eets okay. You'll get eet soon.
Not everything goes according to plan [at least not right away]. As I'll prove, this isn't always a bad thing; perhaps it depends on how you use the unexpected time that turns a minor inconvenience into a major success.
WARNING: This is a long one.
-| Too Bad |-
"Your flight gets into Sydney at 9:30 Sunday night, and doesn't leave until 11 the following morning?" Philip asked. "That's plenty of time to store your bags and go see the city. Of course you need to see the Opera House. But that's not going to last you thirteen hours. I think you should go to a bar. By yourself. It's the perfect excuse to meet people. You know, the whole It's my last night in Australia kind of thing. Imagine the people who'll want you!"
I imagined running around Sydney, down random streets and around the harbour, in and out of bars and clubs at 3 in the morning.
"Yeah, but you've gotta be careful." Dean warned. He had been living at Philip's for the last two weeks, directing a new show for the touring group. "That's really not that much time, not in my opinion. You're going to have to pick up your bags first and then find a place to store them for the night. Then you're going to have to a take a train or taxi into the city. Do whatever you want there for a while - I'd really suggest sticking to one thing. The roads can be pretty packed during early morning, the trains will be busy, and of course there are shady places all over. Then you're going to have to collect your bags, check in, and go through security all before 8ish. If I were you, I'd be on a train back to the airport by seven. Maybe you can just watch the sunrise at the Opera House. That'd be romantic."
My heart sank at the thought of rushing an already short experience in Sydney, and spending a romantic moment with my shadow. I shrugged, and settled on running to the Opera House at night, and then going to one bar before taking the train back to the airport.
-| Lisa/Lisy |-
"Yeah, I think Sydney needs to work on their airports, especially on the night life. I mean, look at all these people who can't even sleep on a chair."
I looked around the silent airport terminal, and how many people were curled into their sweaters and luggage. Lisa/Lisy [I think she introduced herself as Lisa, but in a letter she showed to me later, the writer addressed it to a Lisy...] sat next to me, and we were the only people in the terminal awake and talking.
"It's too bad you're leaving in the morning. If that baggage storage place were open only a half hour alter, you would actually get to see a bit Sydney before you left."
I sighed. "Please don't remind me."
"Even if a hostel were accepting late-night, last-minute check-ins that would be great. Such a shame."
-| Wee Hours |-
My watch read 4:03 am. I had lost all feeling from my waist down, my neck was sore from lack of pillow, and my eyes were burning from recently removing dry contacts. I still clung onto every word Lisa/Lisy said.
Having grown up in Melbourne her entire life, she decided to just get out of the house and travel, no plans on how or by what means she would make it possible. Her first stop was Italy, back to where part of her family had originated. Then onto France, Germany, Spain. A friend in Spain said they should travel together to Brazil, and she did. A visit to Argentina became a 6 month teaching career. The teaching career had led to a romantic interest [not a student], and the romantic interest had led to a heartbreak.
"Now? Now I'm just going home to work. At least, until I have enough to travel again. I don't think it's something you really get over, you know? Once you start doing it... It's hard to stop."
I knew. My year was 7/12 over [had it been that long already?], and I could tell that going back home would be hard. Fortunately, deep and meaningful life conversations like these would make the transition easier.
-| Sweetie, Denied |-
"I just don't understand why I can't buy a cheaper, refundable ticket to Ecuador or Chile." I leaned over the counter, exhausted and frustrated, trying not to yell at the woman.
"I'm sorry sweetie. We don't make the rules. We just enforce them. But because you have a US passport, you need to have proof of further travel before going to Argentina. And by further travel, it has to be outside of South America. If you want, you can go buy a fully refundable ticket to LA, and return it as soon as you land in Argentina. But we can't give you your ticket. If they realized we let you go without proof of further travel, not only would you be deported as soon as you landed, we would be fined $10,000. And we would have to fine you."
I knew she meant well, and that she [probably] said some true things. Deep down, however, I knew that a) South America could care less if I had proof of further travel, and that b) a ticket to another South American country would be fine. Logically, people backpacked/traveled for months or years around the Southern continent without proof of coming back to the US.
"I... I just tried buying a ticket at the other counter. A fully refundable ticket to the US is more than three grand."
"And how are you expecting to support yourself in Argentina without sufficient funds, sweetie?"
"I meant that I haven't transferred the funds to my debit card. I can afford it, but it's going to take a couple of days before the funds transfer."
"Mmm hmm. Well, we can do one of two things. Either we can send you back to the US-"
Internal monologue: GOOD GOD NO. I WOULD BRING SO MUCH SHAME TO MY SCHOOL AND THE FELLOWSHIP and probably family and friends as well.
"-or we can change your flight to Wednesday. Unfortunately, there are aren't any flights for tomorrow, but that might buy you some time to transfer funds into your account."
"I... I guess that's really my only option. I'll take the flight change."
"Sweetie, do you think two days is enough time to transfer funds and buy a ticket?"
We'd have to wait and see, wouldn't we?
-| Silver Lining |-
I spent the next two hours running around the airport, attempting to find a location where my laptop could connect to the internet. Reaching a ripe old age of almost 5 years, my laptop regularly had problems connecting with the world.
Symbolism.
The request to transfer enough funds for purchasing a ticket sent, I sat for a moment and realized: Where am I going to sleep for the next two days? What am I going to eat? Will I shower? The gravity of the situation rearing its ugly head, I came to the conclusion that I would have to spend the extra money for a room in a hostel. Hopefully, one would take me on such short notice. I flipped through the airport guides for nearby hostels. The cheapest and closest one was only around the corner from the first train stop leaving the airport; that would have to do.
It didn't hit me until I had dropped my bags at the foot of the hostel bed: I had two days in Sydney.
After the whole baggage storage plan had fallen through, and my ticket to Argentina had been denied, I was somehow granted more time to venture out into the tourist capital of Australia. Perfect.
-| No Baggage |-
For the first time this year, I left my backpack in my room, and set out into the city armed with only a map and my camera. What else did I need?
I actually should have asked myself that question before I left the room. An hour and a half and a bowl of kung fu ramen [homemade and hand-pulled of course] later, I desperately patted my pockets in search of my wallet. I had left it in my backpack, all the way back in my room. Sheepishly, I begged for forgiveness from the ramen woman, left my camera as collateral, and ran to the hostel and back.
So much for not worrying.
-| Tourist |-
I did the tourist thing. Which is hard to do when you're on your own. Which also results in angular, one-handed photos of yourself in front of tourist attractions. Which results in a lot of deleting, but also a lot of keeping because of entertainment and quality value.
-| Nice Tourist Shot 1 |-
-| Nice Tourist Shot 2 |-
-| The view outside of the hostel. |-
-| Real Ramen Noms |-
-| Pseudo Albino Monk? |-
-| Blossoms! |-
-| Mom: "Joshua, can you find me a pair of Ugg boots? They are my dream boot." |-
-| Aussie shirt on the Aussie bridge overlooking the Aussie Opera House! Triple Threat. |-
-| T-Minus 10 Hours |-
There was a pain in my chest, a twist in my stomach, and a cramp in my head as I checked the transfer update: TRANSFER PENDING. The night before I was supposed to go to Buenos Aires, and the transfer still hadn't gone through. Sure, I received an email from the flight company saying that I had requested to buy a ticket to France, but I never received a confirmation email saying that the booking was completed.
And without that booking confirmation, I wouldn't be allowed on the plane! Again! And they would either have to delay my flight - again! - or even worse, send me back home to the US!
A sudden slap of common sense hit me across the face; maybe all I needed was that email showing that I requested a ticket to France after Argentina. Maybe they didn't need the confirmation email. After all, if [two days ago] they were suggesting I buy the ticket, and that was enough evidence to get onto the plane... Surely that wasn't enough time to receive the confirmation.
The plot began forming in my mind; I could just show a printed email of an attempt to buy a ticket out of Argentina. Whether or not it was denied later by the booking agency because of insufficient funds, it didn't matter. I could be on the plane to, if not already in, Argentina by that time. And if the ticket was denied before I got on the plane? I would easily attempt to buy another ticket.
Seeing the loophole was one thing, but realizing I could have jumped through it earlier [two days earlier, more specifically] was another. Regardless, I had had my time in Sydney. I left after dinner to go into the city; I towards a bar. Alone. Why not? It was my last night in the country, and I had plenty of reasons to celebrate [I had the time, I had a plan, I had a full night's rest, I still had yet to be a night-time tourist, etc.].
-| Karaoke |-
I found my way to a decently classy bar. To my luck, it was a pre-Mardi Gras celebration. And what better way to celebrate than with a karaoke competition? And who better host to host it than a drag queen named Penny Tration?
-| T-Minus 4 Hours |-
Exhausted, I headed back to the hostel at almost 3 in the morning. I would have to pack my bags in the dark [hopefully without waking up the other 7 men in the room], take a shower, take a nap, clean up the bed, check my flight,and check out out of the hostel before 7:30 in the morning, when the shuttle would take me to the airport.
-| Attempt # 2 |-
"Enjoy your flight to Buenos Aires, Mr. Magno."
-| Case in Point |-
Don't not worry when things don't always go as planned. Take the time you need to breathe, work out the next couple of moves that'll get you by in the short-term, then relax. There's only so much you can do to help the situation, but so much more to do instead of panicking about it.
If your parents had enrolled you in dance classes instead of karate, if you had realized your dreams earlier, if you had gone to a different college, if you had not majored in neuroscience, if you had been born into a family that supported whatever you wanted to do instead of what you needed to do. You realize, that down some other rabbit hole, on another earth, in a parallel universe, you live a life where you're more talented, funnier, and better looking. You don't appear as sad, as in much doubt, or as financially in need as you do in this one, and the unavoidable pang of regret hits you in the stomach full-force, throwing off your motivation to keep doing whatever it is you do.
You wonder if you could ever become a tenth of the successful person/people you see before you, a tenth of whatever it was that sent you into this state of being in the first place. To see someone your age doing something you couldn't fathom doing - performing on stage, for instance, professionally - is more than just a moment of amazement. It a disappointment as well.
This cold slap of [questionable] reality sends you tumbling down a considerably dark path of regret, paralyzing you from realizing that there may be a version of you who's a lot happier now than you are right now. Which, in some cases may be hard to imagine, but in most cases incredibly easy. At times, you wonder if it's not too late to try changing the path you're on, to try becoming this other person you momentarily imagined in the back of your mind.
To learn why this isn't possible, please watch the following educational video:
I like to think that I'm living without regrets, that every choice and mistake and success I've experienced happened for a reason. That being said, I can't say that I don't experience jealousy. When I see incredibly talented dancers perform at my age, I immediately get a sense that somewhere, I'm doing that. Instead, I'm living this version of myself, who apparently daydreams all the time of things he'll probably never be. A friend once told me,
Of course I felt guilty. I never wanted him, or anyone, to feel like that. I'd like to believe that when I feel the same way, the person/people of whom I get jealous never wanted that to happen either.
However, a part of me is convinced they only feel pity.
Don't get me wrong, I wouldn't trade this year for anything. I'm learning a ton, and I've made it all seem like it's all been one hilarious fleeting encounter after another. But please please please remember that there's been a ton of dark times, and there'll continue to be a lot more. I suppose I just don't like writing about them as much.
I'll finish with one comment: a lot of people have thanked me for the vicarious living I've apparently given them. While I'm flattered, please don't think of it like that. Don't try living through someone else's experiences, peeking through the rabbit hole, attempting to see the other version of you. Live in the life you have right now, and make it as incredible as you possibly can. You never know if a version of you is out there, wondering what could have been if they were living your life.
1. Vegemite, contrary to popular belief, does not taste terrible on toast, or at all.
2. Australia is not America Part 2: it has its own strange customs, quirks, and even slanguage [slang + language] that make it lovable, terrifying, and hilarious.
3. If you live with someone that has a garden, prepare to de-snail and de-slug it at nighttime, which is the best time to pick up these almost-liquid things that you feed to the chickens that poop out eggs for you in the morning.
-| Tupperware full of snails and slugs. Be glad it's of poor quality. |-
5. The summers are also cold here, but that's just because of global warming/climate change. I had to wear my L. L. Bean microfleece to bed one night.
6. The amount of t.v. you watch skyrockets, but the quality remains the same [awful]. The music videos are just as terrible, the documentaries ["When Teenage Meets Old Age"] say just as little, and the British dramas ["Upstairs Downstairs"] don't make any more sense.
7. Walking around without shoes is popular here. Especially in grocery stores.
8. Candy is expensive, even without the conversion rate. i.e., Mentos for 2 AUD | 2.05 USD. Sad.
9. Slang is hilarious, and like most, doesn't make sense. "Chucked a wobbly" means "flipped a sh*t," "gone off" means "gone crazy," and "look at that gullah" means "stare at that idiot." More to come.
10. The toilets flush in the opposite direction. Video update soon to follow.
11. Kindness abound. i.e., Free copy of Paulo Coelho's "The Pilgrimmage" from store owners, kind directions from strangers at the airport, invitations to birthday retreats in the country of South Australia, and amazing rooms and meals from dance directors.
12. The currency is plastic. The bills are partially see-through.
13. Australians apparently shoot their national animal. Farmers believe them to be pests.
-| If you look reaaaal close, you can see the Joey hanging out! |-
-| Exhibit A |-
14. The flight here is INCREDIBLE. The blankets [one of which is now in my possession], the food [Haagen-Dazs for dessert and an asian-style breakfast in the morning?], and the entertainment [Batman Returns, Another Earth, Mean Bosses, and Friends With Benefits was all viewed in a span of 8.5 hours] are waaay above par. And, you get a whole row to yourself.
15. When you live with a fashion designer and a dance director, all conversations become witty, dry-humored, and overly cultured. And filled with many glasses of wine.
16. Obvious: THE BEACHES HERE ARE AMAZING.
17. BONUS: in Hong Kong, Nicholas Cage is still a thing. And his forehead sells watches.
18: BONUS: in Hong Kong, you can get plenty of knock-offs. Even Cloud Gate / the Bean.
Before I part ways with Uganda tomorrow, I thought it'd be nice to give you an idea of the more popular songs that have been floating around the dance centers, the buses, and on television. Note that these are all very popular, regardless of content and in which decade they were filmed.
