13/06/2020
VISIONS FROM YOUTH
THE ARRIVAL TO A NEW WORLD
This is a very awkward delivery or discussion, dissertation if you will, what it is NOT is to be spiritually oriented, nor religious based nor intended, no special belief will be portrayed but mine.
This is neither a denial nor a confirmation of the existence of something greater than us as being responsible for igniting what we see, what we are, what we have become, all I can say and attest, better yet: witnessed, and been blessed is that despite infinite occasions of wrong turns I’ve taken, mistaken decisions, were still done along and complemented with good ones, asserted ones, it is undeniable that “Something”, or “Someone” has always been there to present a new and better path to follow, to take advantage of, to correct what it was done by, or due to stubbornness, arrogance.
This statement, paragraph, dissertation, coupled with the belief, or not, of having lived past lives, that reincarnation in fact is real, makes it definitely interesting that intentionally or by chance, my life followed the path and lives of that of a kid’s fantasies, dreams, of what the purpose of life is or should be, fantasy, dreams, and real life co-existing, mingling in their own shadows: Pirates, Templars, Crusaders, the glamorous lives of Hollywoodian spy movies such as James in The Bahamas: “NEVER SAY NEVER AGAIN” movie’s title to be an omen, a movie cast with an idol along with a then unknown actor, today’s Mr. Bean, James playing baccarat at Nassau’s casinos, sipping a Dry Martini, and permanently tempting his fate at every corner, all as if this kid purposely needed to re-live, past experiences once again in current century, either mending errors and wrongdoings, realigning the rails, taking or not the “Sliding Doors”, or enjoying at best what the region has to offer; taken a kids’ innocence and have these characters as role models, living their lives surrounded of adventures, uncharted voyages, courageous and many time rush but weighted decisions that no one else dared or cared to take, but surely they were hasty and fast to judge, and even enjoyed the fruits obtained from said decisions; a mixture, a recipe of glamour and yardie life imitating the balance of flavors and spices that a rich “Pepper-Pot” represents, the rainbow of cultures with their music, languages, lingo and accents, in the rum, grogs, ales, beer, and the flaming-spice of a jerk pork, cabrit buccaneer, crab cakes, festival, Johnny cakes, chip-chip, callaloo, and “bread-n-two”, and a fried fish cooked at three in the morning in the middle of a dark, hidden and lost alley street or road in any city, any parish, any island, and being one of the few foreigners capable of finding, stumbling, his whereabouts back home again, and finding the same place at will the next day.
Places that are not there any longer, they have been replaced by more orderly and fashionable, more fancy ones catering to the tourists’ expectations, tourist who arrive either by plane or cruise ships, and as soon as they debark from the ship their eyes wonder around in awe, not by the local beauty, the local sightseeing but by their unbelief reality of not spotting a McDonalds waiting for them at every corner, being that reality their measure of civilization and progress, denying the history that precedes them, what is owed to them, their own cherished freedom and liberty.
My first disembark experience wasn’t from a ship, and my ignorance about the regions’ culture wasn’t that obvious either, the lucky reason for that was that I started the beginning of my life-adventure reaching this beautiful part of the world at the “Isla del Encanto”, “Island of Wonder”, where we shared some similarities with my home country, with old cities of same history and fate, also sharing same language though in often and many occasions different lingo, where words have very different meanings that not being aware and careful of them it can spark an unwanted situation.
A tropical paradise with the expected paintings, the old streets packed with people and music, the palm trees, the salty smell of the sea, the heat and the sun draining your sweat in every step you make tracing the origin and history of the “Pinna Colada” and seeing a faraway oasis of glasses with this sweet and unforgiving drink. A place where “Habichuela” is the meaning of Beans, whereas in other nearby countries “Habichuela” is “Green-Peas”. Where “Gua-Gua” is a truck or a bus, but in other country means “Baby”.
It is an island where you are offered a local dish that resembles more of Flintstone’s Dinosaur BBQ Ribs called “Chuletas Can-Can”, and a city where you can quench your thirst with a Cilantro or Abocado ice cream; a place where you first need to learn again your own language in order to progress.
The arrival was at the Old city, now a neighborhood not even a third of its original stone-walled size. Mofongo, Alcapurrias, Medalla, and Rum at the rhythm of salsa music coming from a second-floor spot of an old house within the city-walls was waiting.
A Caribbean treasure originally inhabited by natives then extinguished by diseases brought by “European Illegal immigrants”, first colonized by Spaniards, attacked by Dutch, and Pirates; today lively people portrayed by movies and plays with characters such as Anita, and Chino, Maria and Bernardo who weren’t even Hispanic, but did a great job communicating these peoples’ pride, and the passion for music and food.
A place where mistakenly has been assumed in pursue and search of identity, when in reality there exists and it is a rich one, yet what it is really lacking is a real and unanimous decision of either becoming or belonging, always split by personal interests, a weakness shared all along the Hispanic heritage continent.
A bat, symbol of entrepreneurship recognized around the world, coffee fields, sugar cane, and El Yunque (The Anvil) are memories of that first arrival that will follow me no matter where the kid will go, a kid who is no longer a kid, memories haunting dreams, and the desire to relive once again the days and the sensations.
