II.III.I – Departure
II.III.I
DEPARTURE
Colombia… Half the world away it stood. And I was going there. The furthest I had ever been from home was Manchester; three hours away from Malta by plane. And now I was going to friggin Colombia – some 10,000 kilometres away.
“It’s okay, it’s okay – he’ll be there with me!” I told myself as I was trying to overcome the hyperventilation that came with buying the flight tickets. Pedro would be there with me. I’d finally get to see him again, embrace him , be with him… In the few weeks he had been away I got to enjoy the me-time I had been pining for ever since he came into my life, only this didn’t feel quite right. All I wanted was to be in his company again – even if I had to fly to the other side of the planet for a short while.
How weird. I had never missed anyone before. And now there I was, incredulous at how I’d never get to see my dad again, and equally astounded by how soon I’d get to see Pedro. To me, the idea that one day he’d come back to Malta seemed naïve at best but going to Colombia myself felt like something only those hipsters with dreadlocks who travel all around the world on their own do.
Before then, I always claimed I wanted to see everything that’s out there. Of course, I’d already been abroad, but it was just a few countries in Europe. The rest of the world was something I’d do one day. Going to Colombia was but a dream. And that’s all I did back then. I was a dreamer by trade. I would’ve made Harvey Specter shudder back then. But now I don’t do dreams. Dreams are just make-believe – something you say when you don’t want to put yourself out there and do the work. Now I have goals. I do. I’m a doer.
And so, I started planning. I’d say we started planning only I did most of it. Not because he was too lazy or because he was working overtime – it was me. I was a full-on Nazi dictator. I seemed to know the best places to go to, even though I had no idea where the damned country lies on the map up until a few months before. I managed to macro and micromanage every single detail of our itinerary until I reached a point of neuroticism that became almost unbearable. But it was fun. No wonder I’m always Monica whenever I do a ‘Which Friends character are you?’ quiz.
You see, to me it’s just like a game of Tetris. You change and switch all those pieces until everything falls into place (did you know those pieces have names? I’m talking honest to god names like Ricky, Hero and Smashboy – nifty, right?).
By the end of it all I had a twenty-five-page long document containing everything; down to – wait, don’t judge me, (or judge me, whatever, I can handle it) – the outfits I’d be wearing every single day. You don’t believe me? I have a hard and soft copy of it. That’s genuinely the only way I could think of to avoid over-packing. Or at least that’s the only thing I could come up with. Remember, to me this trip was a giant leap out of my comfort zone. Something akin to a trip to Mordor – but fun. I’d need to prepare myself against all kinds of obstacles, but I also needed to have fun. Somehow, it had to be all that; no pressure.
When I was done being crazy, I had finally some time to mull things over. I thought about the adventure I was going to embark on, about the incredible places I’d get to see, the food I’d taste, the music, the vibrance of the country that is Colombia – everything.
I also wondered about the kind of person I’d be once I came back home. “Will this journey once again remind me of what it means to be alive? Will I come back re-energized and ready to continue my studies? Will I even want to come back? No use wondering, I might not even be able to come back”. I had already planned about five things that could leave me for dead already. And those were the things I had been most looking forward to.
I remember my friends telling me I’d end up either prostituted, in pieces or in prison. “Who knows, maybe I’ll end up a fingerless prison prostitute, after all” I’d tell myself without a care in the world. Others assumed I’d come back a cocaine addict if I came back. Honestly? I couldn’t give less of a crap. Watching Narcos doesn’t really make you an expert on all things Colombia. In fact, time and time again I’d have to explain to the same people that it’s ‘Colombia’ and not ‘Columbia’. Even so, I didn’t really care about what they had to say – all I wanted was to be elsewhere. Colombia was me doing Wild. I hadn’t read that book yet back then, but that’s what it was to me. It was the journey from lost to found I never thought I needed.
And then there was also Pedro. Finally! This trip would serve to consolidate everything we had. Once we’d be together it would be just as it used to be, as if not a single minute had passed. Man, I missed him. And now I was going to see him again! Not to mention that I’d also get to meet his family, his friends, his dogs! We’d be just like any other couple and nothing would ever stand in our way. The cynic was now kinda believing in something that can’t be seen. Maybe something did bring us together after all, huh? Maybe there is a such a thing as fate.
I packed, said my goodbyes and left. Goodbye family, goodbye friends, goodbye old Marius.