Do you believe in magic?

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Do you believe in magic?

Being a scientist, and formerly, an uptight realist, I can say I never did. Maybe when I was a little princess with her head in the clouds I did, way, way, back, but the storms of life quickly dispelled all the myths of miracles...

But could there be some magic in the world after all? And what kind? The kind that makes people fly and dragons breath fire? No, not likely. But maybe the kind that some would call faith, or karma, good will, or spirituality. No, I am not a hippy, nor am I about to burst out into singing Christmas carols (or maybe I am- whatever, not the point).

The point is this. What if you went somewhere and turned life itself upside down, like one of those glass balls filled with snow, and you stood there and watched the snow trickle down all the way around you, in the middle of summer. Would you believe in magic then? If you floated through favela after favela on a magic carpet only to meet rose petals on your face. What would it mean? And what if every where you went, in every corner and every cranny people kissed you the same kiss from their heart, and told you you were special, you were different, that you fell from heaven to blow a little love into their lives, to help them find their wings so they could fly? And what if all the souls you met along the way sent you off with golden wishes, and every time you landed, golden powder would fall from the sky before your feet? Would you believe then, would you believe in magic?

So coming from heaven itself (angel falls) I landed in Caracas. It could kind of be like going from the north pole to the south, if you know what I mean. By why did I come back?? To CARACAS, of all places...

For Lyly.

Lyly offered me a home away from home. A place where I could relax and regroup, and what I would encounter with her would be more than I had imagined.

Coming home I laughed that night when I heard the sound of gunshots from the neighbouring barrio. It’s not that it was funny, it’s that it was kind of ironic or something. Like welcome back to... to prison, or to the war, or to something less than fantastic. But of course I didn’t feel that way, I was happy to be home. -and in truth there were not gunshots every night, only every second night (and one time like a little fight)- but not the point. It really wasn’t as dangerous as maybe I had thought before.

By luck, or chance, or by the nature of Caracanean traffic and having to do so many circles on endless highways, I ended seeing most if not all the city’s attractions. In fact I visited... I don’t know like at least 5 or 6 different Venezuelan states also. It was great, but not glamorous.

For example, one day we went to the famous national park of maracoy (luscious tropical islands surrounded by mangroves), but we drove six hours to get there. Another hour to take a 45 minute boat, enjoyed the afternoon, then drove back. The “city” surrounding the dock where we needed to go was one of the most interesting shady places I’ve seen. It was just so absolutely creepy and seedy that I marvelled of the wonder walking in these surroundings - my family would have died had they seen it- especially the “parking lot”. How can I describe the broken walls, dilapidated buildings, narrow roads, alley ways, broken glass, rusted cars, flaming bbqs in hidden corners... it just doesn’t do it justice. Don’t get me wrong I’m not dissing it, I enjoyed it, and even though it looked terrible it wasn’t dangerous (in daylight)- well not extremely. On the way home though Lyly nearly gave me a heart attack. I had to pee sooooo bad (maybe from the beer I was drinking in the car). She told it wasn’t safe to stop like ANYWHERE, but I HAD TO PEE!!! I was even thinking of doing it in the car. Fuck it! Stop the damn car- we can out run bandits- what are the chances anyways- its probably just paranoia. So she pulled over the side of the highway beside like this massive bridge thing with all these pillars next to a dark industrial area- I ran behind one of the pillars, and peed as fast as I could while the cars zoomed by, looking back and forth for any signs of bandits. This was ridiculous!! Then I jumped back in the car hating my bladder, and relieved to have it void.

Lyly and I had so many other adventures... too many to name them all... but let’s see.

-We climbed Avila mountain again! That was fun, this time reaching a waterfall, which was a complete surprise, cause we had no idea it was there. I wanted to swim in it but knew I preferred to walk back through the woods dry. Although I didn’t walk I ran, because it was more fun!

-We went to the Canadian consulate together several times to try to renew my passport. -but despite Paul’s efforts and my friends help it didn’t work...

-We spent a glorious day in park del este with Lyly’s mother, a very beautiful day. It began to rain, but a beautiful rain that I watched from under bamboo shoots. Teenagers practiced acrobatics, and I watched strong young men toss girls into the sky... It was fun.

-We walked in some strange famous park in the city center at night. It was magical and glorious. The skateboarders were riding around and the hippys smoking their spliffs. People were selling crap on the streets. We went to the beautiful theatre to use the bathroom. Apparently the walk there was dangerous. The building was spectacular, new looking, large with glorious lights, but no walls, open to the park at all sides it seemed, between its archways and escalators. A city with sharp contrasts of beauty, dilapidation, and danger.

-We drank as we drove in circles through the city and greater city, evading the same crazies on the streets. We stopped in the droostore for a few beers and checked out the apparently gay men- but we had a blast. I got to drive home (not drunk of course- cause that would be illegal)- why is it I only get to drive standard after I’ve been drinking- you guys are nuts!!

-We watched movies into the night. We talked. We hung out, and we argued in the way married couples do.

Most importantly Lyly taught me a lot about myself. She helped me to see my flaws, my defects, things I needed to work on. She also helped me to see why I act the way I do, and where the pain I feel inside sometimes comes from. Thanks Lyly.

Lyly also said something interesting. She said she was afraid I would marry the world. She said that I had so much love for everybody that they would become my life, and that I would never marry one person because they would never be enough for me, nor would they be able to stand sharing my heart with all the others that lived in it. She had a point, but I’d like to think she was wrong. Its true that it was easy for me to love so many people but I don’t think that would take away from the love from my future husband- he would just have to love me for who I am, and in turn that would only make me love him more. After all, I have had that kind of love before....

Lyly also told me that she had received a prophesy about me. A Pakistani man in Holland had told her two years ago that in two years a foreigner would come into her home and to change her life, to make it better, and she said she had never believed in that kind of bullshit until now- and that she believed I was that person and that it was no accident I had come to her. It was sweet and nice.

Good bye was a mess. I didn’t have time to really say good bye or even to miss her as the bus pulled away, but I was sure to miss her later. Greatly.

PS: my laptop got fried so i'm not posting any pics for a while

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Comments

[anonymous]

anazing story- thank you