Discovery of the day:
The best thing I can possibly do is be visible.
I was bored today, didn't have plans and didn't know what to do with myself.
I did some writing and studying this morning, and then around noon went for a 4-hour walk in the fields. As I passed each person's lote we exchanged greetings. I ended up in quite a few conversations I never expected to be in when I woke up this morning. One elderly women that spoke very broken spanish grabbed my hand tighter than what would be comfortable and pulled me to her lush alfalfa field to offer her life's story to me. Recommendations for my own life followed the not-so-brief narrative of hers. Then, I ran into a series of teenage girls that are devoted to walking to the ancient fort with me one day, so we made plans to do so in a couple weeks. One woman invited me to the fields to milk her cows with her tomorrow. I can't wait.
The path of my hike through the terraced fields this morning culminated when I reached the end of the ancient roadway. It drizzled into nothingness as it approached a tipped cliff. It is as if the river at the depths of the canyon split in two and left this peak for beauty's sake. The wind was so strong I could have leaned into it, and I was worried it might tear my glasses from my face down the ½ mile cliff. I turned my back to zephuros and let him adrenalize my body as I sat at the tip of this peak. I was completely safe where I sat, but moving two feet to my left or right would question my sanity.
I sat and stared at the wheat fields a short distance from my toes. Is there anything more beautiful than a wheat field? Its golden glisten, its creaky whistle? The locals were not moved or interested in my frivolousness, they continued farming.
When I returned to town hours later I went to my host family's house to clean up the paint mess from the day before. The family offered for me to join them for a rice broth dinner and I appreciated every sip of warmth. When Roxana slipped away to do her homework I asked if I could help and her eyes glowed. Her guessing game called English homework was turned into something productive, and I told her she is going to speak english better than her professor if she keeps up the good work. Funny/sad thing is, that's not an exaggeration. No one wants to teach these poor rural communities, so generally speaking the professors are not cream of the crop. After English homework was done, she shifted to math (her favorite subject) and she gave me a short story she read last week and loved and instructed me to ask her if I came across a word I didn't understand. I have to say, I adore this 13-year-old. The story was of a sci-fi nature; a doctor that could predict death much like a prescription. Immediately I remembered what I read when I was her age: Goosebumps. Remember that series? Last night when we were painting my new room she recounted her favorite horror movies to me, and asked me to do the same. The girl challenges my Spanish daily and doesn't even know how valuable the practice is to me. She remembered every detail of these movies she saw, and I would try to skimp out by retelling the premises. She wouldn't allow it and would ask for more, much like telling scary stories around a campfire. Last night we painted into the night under a single hanging light bulb, and tonight that pitiful bulb permitted more storytelling over books. Who would have thought a day with nothing planned could be so productive?
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