Have you ever had one of those nights when you realize that things in your life appear to be going just the way they should be? When seemingly unrelated small joys throughout the day build upon each other to form an evening that you just don’t want to end? You just keep walking, driving, finding something else to do, to save from going home?
The last one of these nights I can remember was two summers ago, sometime after 10pm on an incredibly warm Southern California night. My little sis and I were driving through our neighborhood, heading back home, when Beirut’s “Scenic World” came streaming through the speakers. Molly didn’t mind when I drove straight past our street and kept riding around the block so we could hear out the rest of the song. That was a wonderful night.
Tonight was one of those nights. Music, scenic drives, plus some.
This weekend I’ve been busy tying up loose ends and preparing for an adventure my friends and I embark upon in two days—a four and a half week trip to Guatemala. One of those “loose ends” I needed to tie up was finding my passport. Thank goodness I am somewhat organized; I found it within minutes of digging through my storage space in Denver. My money belt, however, is still unaccounted for. 45 minutes later, I immerged from my family member’s basement to find the dark cloudy sky had been replaced with by beautiful streaks of color and light. This warranted a scenic drive home up Highway 93, which runs along the foothills, instead of the usual route home on 36.
Once again, the music set a mood, as my aunt’s mix dished up Jump, Little Children’s version of “Cathedrals.” However cheesy it may be, I still dug it. It’s one of my favorite drives to take, and the music made the drive more feel whimsical than could the cotton from cottonwood trees commonly seem floating across the road this time of year.
Getting some practice on one of my favorite hobbies, I took quite a few pictures, while driving. I could probably find safer hobbies. It was a touch past sunset and a bit to dark for taking pictures while moving, so they’re all a little blurry. I’ve also taken to filming the passing scenery and trying to catch whatever music is playing, in an effort to better capture moments in more than a snapshot. “So Far Around the Bend” began to play just as the road began to wind.
Not wanting to end my drive, I once again rolled past my street and headed downtown to pick up a Spanish pocket dictionary and phrase book on hold at the Boulder Bookstore. I then walked across the street to the used book store I’d browsed earlier, not expecting to find anything I’d end up buying. Instead, I found myself almost immediately standing in front of a book called I, Rigoberta Menchu: An Indian Woman in Guatemala, which tells the life story of this Nobel Peace Prize-winning women. It was on a small “Latin America”-labeled shelf that held mostly books about countries not commonly considered part of Latin America. It’s a seemingly ideal read while traveling through a country I really as of yet know little about. I considered the find as a bit luck on my side. I meandered my way to the cash register, hoping the cashier might have read it or know something about it.
The young man that met me on the other side of the counter had not read the book, yet was himself Guatemalan, his mother an emigrant of the country. He has yet to ever visit the country, but told me he hopes to travel there soon.
I left the store with my new book and a smile, trying to figure out why these small seemingly simple encounters and events continue to show up so often in my life. Just days before, while riding the Greyhound home from Columbia, MO, I found myself sitting next to a Fulbright Scholar and high school Spanish Teacher who’d spent much time traveling Latin America and taught at a Jesuit school in Chile for a year. If I had any apprehensions about how this, my first trip out of the country without guidance from Regis’s Service Learning office, might turn out, most fears were calmed after leaving the bookstore. I’m reminded of my boss’s encouraging words the day I presented my senior thesis: “The Universe conspires in your favor”—something Emerson or Coelho readers likely recognize.
Instead of heading to the car, I walked 20 minutes in the opposite direction. I felt content, and excited, knowing I’m finally traveling to Central America, studying a language, and learning a culture that I’ve long wanted to study. I realized I wasn’t experiencing it alone. I have two incredible friends accompanying me on this trip, but it seems now I also have many others I’ve met this last month, the friendly bookstore boy, the weary greyhound companion, plus a few unmentioned others, that have appeared in different places and times, and have unknowingly confirmed in me that I’m heading in the right direction.
The last one of these nights I can remember was two summers ago, sometime after 10pm on an incredibly warm Southern California night. My little sis and I were driving through our neighborhood, heading back home, when Beirut’s “Scenic World” came streaming through the speakers. Molly didn’t mind when I drove straight past our street and kept riding around the block so we could hear out the rest of the song. That was a wonderful night.
Tonight was one of those nights. Music, scenic drives, plus some.
This weekend I’ve been busy tying up loose ends and preparing for an adventure my friends and I embark upon in two days—a four and a half week trip to Guatemala. One of those “loose ends” I needed to tie up was finding my passport. Thank goodness I am somewhat organized; I found it within minutes of digging through my storage space in Denver. My money belt, however, is still unaccounted for. 45 minutes later, I immerged from my family member’s basement to find the dark cloudy sky had been replaced with by beautiful streaks of color and light. This warranted a scenic drive home up Highway 93, which runs along the foothills, instead of the usual route home on 36.
Once again, the music set a mood, as my aunt’s mix dished up Jump, Little Children’s version of “Cathedrals.” However cheesy it may be, I still dug it. It’s one of my favorite drives to take, and the music made the drive more feel whimsical than could the cotton from cottonwood trees commonly seem floating across the road this time of year.
Getting some practice on one of my favorite hobbies, I took quite a few pictures, while driving. I could probably find safer hobbies. It was a touch past sunset and a bit to dark for taking pictures while moving, so they’re all a little blurry. I’ve also taken to filming the passing scenery and trying to catch whatever music is playing, in an effort to better capture moments in more than a snapshot. “So Far Around the Bend” began to play just as the road began to wind.
Not wanting to end my drive, I once again rolled past my street and headed downtown to pick up a Spanish pocket dictionary and phrase book on hold at the Boulder Bookstore. I then walked across the street to the used book store I’d browsed earlier, not expecting to find anything I’d end up buying. Instead, I found myself almost immediately standing in front of a book called I, Rigoberta Menchu: An Indian Woman in Guatemala, which tells the life story of this Nobel Peace Prize-winning women. It was on a small “Latin America”-labeled shelf that held mostly books about countries not commonly considered part of Latin America. It’s a seemingly ideal read while traveling through a country I really as of yet know little about. I considered the find as a bit luck on my side. I meandered my way to the cash register, hoping the cashier might have read it or know something about it.
The young man that met me on the other side of the counter had not read the book, yet was himself Guatemalan, his mother an emigrant of the country. He has yet to ever visit the country, but told me he hopes to travel there soon.
I left the store with my new book and a smile, trying to figure out why these small seemingly simple encounters and events continue to show up so often in my life. Just days before, while riding the Greyhound home from Columbia, MO, I found myself sitting next to a Fulbright Scholar and high school Spanish Teacher who’d spent much time traveling Latin America and taught at a Jesuit school in Chile for a year. If I had any apprehensions about how this, my first trip out of the country without guidance from Regis’s Service Learning office, might turn out, most fears were calmed after leaving the bookstore. I’m reminded of my boss’s encouraging words the day I presented my senior thesis: “The Universe conspires in your favor”—something Emerson or Coelho readers likely recognize.
Instead of heading to the car, I walked 20 minutes in the opposite direction. I felt content, and excited, knowing I’m finally traveling to Central America, studying a language, and learning a culture that I’ve long wanted to study. I realized I wasn’t experiencing it alone. I have two incredible friends accompanying me on this trip, but it seems now I also have many others I’ve met this last month, the friendly bookstore boy, the weary greyhound companion, plus a few unmentioned others, that have appeared in different places and times, and have unknowingly confirmed in me that I’m heading in the right direction.
i am so glad to see that this blog has something written on its white-washed walls, and something poignant and beautiful at that. i wish i was in guatemala right now with you, but how wonderful to think that i am in hawaii and you are in central america and from our humble orange county roots we are touching two outer reaches of the world and will only continue to do so for the rest of our lives. you are brilliant. and i love you.
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