Five Weeks in the Amazon - #true #story

Chapter 4 - Wherever I may roam (in the streets of Miraflores)

FRIDAY, NOVEMBER 2
4:30pm, Angel Hostel

Just like a typical tourist, I ate at Burger King today and used their Wi-Fi. I called my sister Emily on Skype and she helped me find a new perspective, which was good. I was feeling pretty down. 

The last couple days, my mind has been filled with all kinds of questions, and I've felt pretty lonely. Getting lonely while traveling alone is normal, but I've also been thinking about my past, and why I've suffered during so much of it. What the hell is the point of it all, of all the pain one must go through in life? 

After speaking with Emily, I saw things differently and that refreshed my attitude in a much-needed way. It made me feel more positive about the choice I made to come here and travel alone. She's traveled to Asia, India, and a bunch of other places, so I trust her advice.

Sometimes my thoughts run away from me, and I like to hear the opinion of somebody I trust: it helps me hold on to what's real. Emily's simple and clear encouragement untangled some of my emotions. In the end, she made everything seem less complicated. 

I'm fortunate to have the family I do. They try their best to understand me, even though I don't think they have the slightest idea about all the problems I've had. 

It'd be nice to believe humans were meant to live a better life, a happy life. Don't we all ask ourselves these kinds of questions? Don't we all want to reach some kind of conclusion as to what it all means? 

The problem is I'm just not as talented at ignoring these questions as other people are. 

Skateboarding has helped me figure out how to get around Miraflores, but I still feel lost. Going around the city, I feel like I'm inside of myself. Not only am I one of the few Westerners here, I'm one of the worst Spanish speakers as well, and the way people stare at me when I try to speak to them I might as well be an alien. Even though I'm surrounded by humans, I feel more alone than if I was stranded on a deserted island.

The biggest challenge I will face on this trip is going to be overcoming my personal issues. Before I came, I just assumed the traveling part would be the most difficult, but it's not. I think that what I'm going through now will be the most challenging: coming into contact with parts of myself that I mask or tuck away when I'm at home. 

When I'm at home, surrounded by people I know, and this holds true for most of us, I play my part in a role I've created for myself. I fulfill my social obligations, and conform to the rules of society, acting in what I've determined is an acceptable way. Don't we all do this? Deciding each day when we look in the mirror whether or not to continue acting out our role we've created? 

This is why it is paramount to travel alone. When you travel alone, you're instantly set free from this character you've assumed. When you travel alone, no one knows who you are, there's no predetermined idea about how you should act, you are free, and you can be your true self. Every morning you are liberated to create your identity as you truly want it to be. 

I'll always be a male who grew up in Canada, and that's part of my character, but the essence, the truth that my character is built from, is formed anew continuously. I generate myself in each moment by my actions and decisions. When I travel alone, I'm free to be myself, in a way that I can only describe as being pure and natural. 

At the core of who I am, I'd like to think I'm a good person, a happy person, a kind person. Yet for me to reach these virtuous layers, first I have to shed the layers of vice that I've piled on top. Lima isn't the easiest place to be vulnerable, which is why vices are helpful. They give me something to hold on to when real life feels slippery. 

The city and the cultural barrier make me feel isolated, and I'll be even more isolated next week when I'm in the jungle, where I will undoubtedly examine myself more closely. I'll be able to let down my defenses, and I hope to dig below my layers of vice, uncovering the virtuous parts I know are part of who I am. 

Besides calling Emily, I haven't spoken much in the last few days. There hasn't been much need to, not after seeing what little I can accomplish with Spanish. I've had one conversation going on constantly, and it's in English, too. The only problem is that it's been with myself, in my mind. 

One week ago, I was in San Francisco and I saw more people than I'd ever seen talking to themselves in the streets. They were the kind of people you'd think of if I asked you to think of a "crazy homeless person." Did you picture a white-haired guy wearing bathroom slippers, a dress suit, and talking out loud about an obscure conspiracy theory? He was there. 

Most sane people would say someone who talks to themselves has gone insane, but as I roam the streets of Miraflores there's a stream of conversation inside my mind. I think my thoughts are in English, but perhaps they're just English names given to the forms of what I'm thinking about, or perhaps they become English when I vocalize them? Sometimes I think the only difference between the crazy people in San Francisco and me is that they were vocalizing their personal conversations while I, the sane one, instead has conversations in my mind. What's the difference between us? Am I a mute lunatic? And if so, aren't we all? 

I'm happy and totally exhausted from skating so much. My brain is tired from assimilating so much new, unique stimuli. Paying for a private room was a great decision: it's like having my own little Canadian embassy. If things get too crazy out in the city, I can always retreat back here. 

I'll rest for another half-hour and then walk up to Kennedy Park to get some dinner. The sun goes down at 6pm so it's the perfect time to watch the sideways rays get cast across the city.

Now that I think about it, the hell with walking, I'm going to skate. Maybe I'll meet some fellow travelers or skater friends along the way—and if I'm lucky, I'll run into Michael and get the chance to smash his goddamn toes.