My fanny pack and I. (sarah you are a dork).

I had one of my friends complain because she was in this post and couldn’t read. So I’ll do my best to translate it for you Sarah. Maybe this way Josh and Noa can read it too. The other people present are pretty fluent in Spanish, so can read it either way. Here Goes.

Out of nowhere the sun came in with a little bit of cold breeze. I couldn’t help it and smiled. It was a perfect moment, and the only thing that was with me at the time was a great song and a little imaginary bag full of memories. The last moment I felt like that, accompanied in many ways, but alone at the same time, was in Chavin, last year. I was lying on one of the structures in the main town plaza, looking at the stars, enjoying every second of this little, wonderful town that didn’t have light for a week. It was the first day of the blackout (every year Chavin suffers a one week blackout, and it’s my favorite part of the year). I was looking at the stars, looking at the past, literally. My surrounding was perfect, lonely and dark, but I had my little bag (and no Sarah, I’m not talking about my fanny pack), full of memories, full of friends, full with happiness and sad thoughts. I think what happens to me in moments like this is that I forgive everything, and at the same time ask for forgiveness. It was incredible. The funny thing was that I was dressed in a very funny way, had my funky hat, funny gloves and a cape, well it wasn’t a cape, but the little girl inside me, didn’t stop saying that all night. It was a blanket I bought a couple of days before in the town market. Continuing with the story, I was there, lying, alone, until a police officer said I couldn’t be up there. So I came down from my favorite spot in Chavin, went for some of my friends (you were reading your book) and we started drinking. We drank, talked about life, about archeology, the world, etc. We had warm beer and “wine”. The wine actually just looked like brown juice, so I’m glad, the lights were out. I was surrounded by dark, a candle that wound blow out every time one of us would speak, by my new, but amazing friends, by the stars, and my little bag, filled with memories and friends.  

I don’t believe in the perfection in people, but i do believe in the perfection of a moment. In lines above i’ve mentioned a couple, yesterday i had another one of those moments. One of my good friends sent me a song, and it was the first time i heard it, but couldn’t stop listening to it, for hours. (the same thing happend to me with swing life away-rise against). I found perfection in a song, once again.

 My little bag isn’t filled with perfect friends or a perfect family, it’s filled with imperfections. Perfect imperfections, that mix very well with the caos that I am, and form a perfect little bag, with no room for error.

After a long time i can say that my bag and I are happy, so thank you so much, for the imperfection that you give me.

So Sarah there it is, translated and everything. And since you made me do it, the least I can do, is write i little bit more. When i wrote this, i had my best friends in mind, and you were very much included. Its funny though, we haven’t even been friends for a year, and you are truelly one of the best friends i have. We share so many thoughts. We don’t know everything about eachother, but i think i blame that on you living in Canada. I just remember another two moments we spent together, one was pretty much perfect and epic, and maybe even when we realized we had so much in common, and how amaizing are friendship was going to turn out to be, and the other moment was us just being stupid. The first moment was us going back to chavin, next to that magazine guy, talking about our thoughts about life, how we care, and how we want to make a difference around us. And the other moment was you looking at me saying: “All dogs in Chavin have a broken leg, don’t they?” I just looked at you and your broken leg and couldn’t stop laughing. So thank you, thank you for the three moments i’ve mentioned in this silly thing, and so many more i could probobly write a book about. 

Thank you for that, cause even though you didn’t know what terrible moment i was going through (what we talked about the other night), you made it so much easier, and i really didn’t feel alone. Thank you. Thank you for being such a good friend and making me laugh my soup out of my mouth so many nights, and coudling with me at night. Sharing your beers with me. Thank you for coming to Chavin and breaking your leg (you know in what sense i say it, its the same thing you said in your going away letter).

I love you my dear friend.

Me. 

Swing life away, everyday. And if you break a leg in turkey i hope someone cleans your toes the perfect way i did, and if not, call me, and i’d love to dig over there.