The Boy Who Made Flowers Sing

7 | The Old City

In the morning, she pulled open the silky curtains in the room and was awestruck: Cartagena was a whole new world, no two worlds, in the daytime. Her hotel was surrounded by modern buildings that towered over the colourful, older buildings further away - like trying to preserve an old city but still keeping up with the advanced world. 

The sun shone high above, complementing the energy of the city. The pool underneath was a striking blue and glistened in the sun's rays. The palm trees swayed in the mild breeze and hotel workers skittered here and there with towels and trays in their hands. Some tourists were already making their way to the many pools and others enjoyed breakfast sitting outside the various cafes dotting the peripheries.

Elena looked in the mirror at herself. She felt oddly renewed. Like she wanted to try all over again. She stared at herself in the mirror a bit longer and straightened her back. She managed a small, crooked smile and pulled her dark brown hair behind her ears. Her dark olive skin looked pale and her face was always puffy in the morning.

Dr. Jennette had told her to film her trip with a camcorder she had brought along. She pulled it out of her suitcase and turned it on. The bottom of the screen read the date in bright green letters and numbers: January 11, 2001. She hit the record button and thought of something to say.

"Hi, um, this is Elena...I'm seven months sober...And this is my vacation rehab," She said blandly into the camera.

She snorted and burst out laughing. She put the camera back and shook her head.

"Let's not do that," She told herself aloud.

She took a quick shower and got dressed. She let down her brown, wavy hair and wore her sun hat and glasses. Glasses always made her feel comfortable. They were like shields to protect her from judgmental stares. For good luck, she kept Oda's notebook in her backpack.

Elena headed down to the lobby. The housekeepers smiled and greeted her along the way. She made her way to the hotel's provided telephone booth and made an international call to her mom who had been worried sick. After assuring her mother she was fine, Elena paid the man at the counter and went to the breakfast area. After eating, she waited for the shuttle. It would take her to The Old City of Cartagena: her first destination on this trip.

It was still an hour until the vehicle would arrive so, in the meantime, Elena walked outside taking in the fresh air. She came across the hotel's small garden and took a stroll through it. She walked down the paved sidewalk and saw striking colours of roses and sunflowers in bloom on one side. On the other side were marigolds and geraniums. A gardener was watering them. Elena watched her as she focussed on watering each bunch carefully and gently. Elena politely greeted her and began to leave when the gardener walked over and tapped her on the shoulder. She handed her a geranium.

"For you," she said in her thick, Spanish accent. "For joy."

The gardener genuinely smiled wide through her leathery, flushed skin and then resumed watering the plants.

"Thank you," Elena called out quickly, looking back at the gentle and cheerful woman.

Elena inserted the geranium into the ribbon of her sun hat. She headed to the entrance of the hotel to wait for the shuttle where she was met by another couple. The woman walked up to her beaming from ear to ear.

"Hi!" She cheerfully said to Elena. "Where are you visiting from?"

The woman was striking with dark eyes and light-coloured freckles spread across the bridge of her hooked nose. Elena spun around to the woman's approaching voice.