Medellin heartbreak

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After hours of late flights, I finally arrived in Medellin, the infamous city of the Colombian (FORMER) drug cartel, and the Escobars, and in Chritsmas, one of the most lit up cities in the world. I split the one hour long taxi with a guy I had met on the plane, and arrived at the rather luxurious hostel Oscar had booked.

Wow… after 10 months of travelling I would finally see the handsome face I had left crying at the airport, and the person whose memory had accompanied my thoughts in so many lonely, longing moments though out my journey.

I hadn’t been at the hostel long, talking to the extremely cute, and young, Ecuadorian owner, Emeliano, before Oscar called from Panama, announcing that he would be delayed until the following afternoon.

After grabing a bite a little wandering in the spectacular and lively streets of la Poblado (a ritzy neighbourhood in Medellin), I hit the sack.

I took advantage of the morning, buying supplies and going to the gym. It’s true what they say about Medellin, the city of eternal spring!! Wow, each breath was filling with the sweet odor of spring flowers, luscious tropical plants adorning the windy, mountainous streets filling with gorgeous homes and luxurious condos. I could definitely see myself living in this paradise, like a tropical, mountainous Miami, ok, so maybe more like San Francisco, without all the city. Ok, so maybe neither make sense…

But as I walked through the streets I felt like I was in Toronto. The memories of my childhood were triggered by the warm temperate climate, and the spring smell. It was beautiful, and filled with life and tranquility…

Arriving at the hostel, the sunny day quickly changed to a cloudy storm, and so trapped by the down pour I ordered a pizza for lunch. As I waited for the pizza, and for Oscar I grew a little nervous… Why?? Not sure… Like a school girl once again. -and just when the pizza came, Oscar appeared in the door way, but I didn’t recognize him because I thought it was the pizza guy, until I really looked at his face. Oh!! Wow…

He looked so handsome, so good, so clean, so Oscar. His hair was much longer, but still cute, and the first thing he said to me was wow, your hair is long! Ya, I know… And we hugged.

He came in and it was all a big fuss between the luggage and the pizza, like a whirlwind of excitement. All the things I wanted to tell him, show him, say… I felt like I wanted to blurt out everything but also nothing, it was just nice enough to sit there starring at him. Wow… How happy! How relaxing. He starred at me with eyes lit up, they were so lit, the way he use to look at me when he loved me last. It was so distracting, all I could do was smile, and be all over the place with my thoughts and words, and within minutes all the feelings I use to feel flooded back like a waterfall. We talked about our trips, our plans, Colombia… And it wasn’t until he said he was heading back to Toronto Jan 6, that I realized how screwed up I was, cause when he said it, it hurt, it cut like a knife and made me sadder than I could bear. I tried to stuff it down, while running circles in my mind of how dangerous it was to play with love like this. I wanted to see Oscar, I dreamt of Oscar, and I thought we could share some nice moments in the middle of my trip, but I hadn’t expected the intensity of the pain that would follow. And it was still just the thought of it, for it hadn’t happened yet. It made me afraid and wonder should I just run, and run now, before falling all over again??

But it wouldn’t be long before Oscar would dispel everything anyways…

After hours of smiles and laughs of catching up, we took a magical trip to the river and the pueblito paiza, which are magnificently decorated with millions of Christmas lights that extend for kilometers. We walked hand in hand through the enchanted lights, eating sweet treats. Oscar felt the marvel of being back in Colombia, his home, being a Colombian but having been absent for the last 10 years. He was so happy and so nostalgic. I was so happy to have the ghost who had accompanied me in so many corners of my trip materialize before my eyes. Swimming in our pool of magic, I looked at him illuminated by all the colorful lights, and I felt as if we were in China or Japan, and I thought about the rarity and uniqueness of the moments and how it would likely never be repeated, and about how one day in the not so distant future I would be walking in a place just like this, probably in Asia, but with no one in my hand, without him…

God how it pained me, but how it also made me appreciate the moment- its shortness, and for a brief moment, I was no longer alone. I was comforted, and maybe feeling that feeling, made me realize the hangover of loneliness that I had deep inside, that I was usually unaware of travelling.

It was like sweet Edgar would tell me in the days to come. “You want to be a couple.” -and no, I really don’t, I am quite interested in remaining single, but it is the partnership, and sense of community, of sharing your life with your lover, your family, your friends, that I have lacked in recent months. -and sure I have a multitude of good friends, that have surrounded me in my travels, but they are often impermanent - it has been the roots that I have been lacking. -and Oscar would give me a clear description of my problem the following day, but not before breaking my heart.

So the next morning after we woke, we spent the morning climbing the stiff mountainous streets, up and down looking for Copa airlines. Oscar was on a mission to book his flight out in the coming days, being big on planning. We started to discuss our travel plans. Mine were none, really. I was open to do just about anything. I guess I had assumed that Oscar had missed me the way I had missed him, and for me, I couldn’t imagine being in the same country and not being together, but he didn’t feel the same way. Oscar had long ago made the decision that our relationship was permanently over. He was kind and honest, and direct, all of which I appreciated. He made it clear that although he was fond of me, he didn’t see any point in investing in something that he did not wish to have a future in. His trip was his own personal journey that he preferred to take alone, and I understood. I could not argue with what made sense. I knew he was right, but the truth hurt so much.

I was crying on the inside all day, and for the first time ever grieving the true end of our relationship, because even though it had ended so many months ago, I suppose I had never really taken the decision to permanently close the door on our future. But I did make that decision that day, and it hurt. The rejection also hurt, but at the same time I felt grateful for the release, because I knew that as terrific as Oscar was, he probably was not the best for me, and only now had he help me give myself what I needed to move on.


So the day went by with heavy sadness in my heart. Each step through the downtown streets of Medellin was heavy, and my heart felt like a balloon filled with water, bouncing with each step, as if it could burst at any minute. The only thing keeping me alive in those moments other than the iron clad strength that had pulled me through the continent while saying goodbye at airports, and bus terminals to all the faces that I had grown to love, that had given me comfort, shelter, advice, and love, was a secret news I had received earlier that day when I had called a friend back home. News so happy, but so personal I cannot share it. It was the news that the one greatest burden, the one greatness sadness, I had been carrying in my life for the last year, was lifted, and that the sun rays would shine on the earth once more.

We went all through downtown and picked up new cell phones (for like 20 bucks). After visiting the beautiful botanical gardens lit up with Christmas lights, and lacking the magic of love, we started to make our way back to the hostel. I had been silent about my feelings the whole day, but decided I would feel better to unburden myself. I told Oscar, that he had broken my heart. I told him I appreciated his honesty and I understood. I told him that I was so sad at the realization that the candle I had held lit secretly, without wanting it, or even knowing it at times, was now out… It was hard to put all I was feeling in words, but it felt good trying to mumble them out. I also told him I was partly relieved at finally being able to move on, because I knew once the sting of the pain, and the fear of the unknown, subsided, I would find my comfortable tack in the ocean I was navigating. I knew I had all the tools to be happy, even though it was the furthest emotion from my heart at that particular moment.

Walking back from the metro, we stopped for coffee, and got stuck there in the rain for hours, and had one of the best conversations we had ever had, and the first as friends.

I told Oscar about how I had reached the sad point in my travels, when happiness was fleeting, and even the most beautiful sights could barely awake any emotion within my ambivalent, bored, emptiness. I was growing unhappy, and impatient with the places, willing them to pass, and not enjoying them. Even the people were not enough, and things were beginning to frustrate me. Oscar then reminded me of what I knew and had learned in the first months of my travels, the secret to happiness and life, but he also told me something I was unaware of. He said what makes us happy as people is very simple. They are the simple things that we can all have, like love, like family, like friends, sharing our lives, growing and laughing together, crying, struggling, and living with one another, and exchanging the smallest acts of thoughtfulness. What I didn’t know, is what he said next. He said for months I have been depriving myself of the most basic things that we all need to be happy, and so it was only normal that I should feel sad and empty. It was so simple, so obvious. All the greatest adventures in the world could not compare, could not fill me, as much as holding my dog while he sleeps, hugging my mother, talking with my father, or playing chess with an old friend… But how could I go home? I was not ready, or was I? I know my trip was not over, and I still was not ready to consider stopping at home halfway- I still didn’t accept it as a solution. I preferred to bear it out.

The rain soon broke, and we went “home” for a quick midnight nap before heading out to drink with an old friend of his till 4 in the morning. What a day!!! Never ending and full of everything.
Finally, and gratefully hit the sack just before day break.

Woke late the next day, and after brunch we headed to see the infamous Botero exhibit at the art gallery. It was interesting and how much we had in common, but also how different we were. After the art gallery we took the metro to a station, were you take a gondola up the mountain -and the crazy part is that the gondola is PART OF THE METRO SYSTEM!!! -with stops and everything!!!

The gondola passed over a questionable and colorful neighborhoods, filled of South American spice, and the perfect backdrop to interesting and controversial movies. When we exited at the top, Oscar was more than anxious to walk the neighborhoods, for the last time he was in Colombia, he had witnessed more violence than he cares to remember, and the memories lingered in him, affecting his breath, and his heart rate. I felt calm and happy, sucking in the flavor of the radically different area. We had asked beforehand if it was safe to walk here, and were assured it was, for many places had recently changed here in Colombia, and security was improving all over the place. It was clear there were no tourist here and after visiting the magnificent new library they had built here (a real marvel, and symbol of progress), we decided to head back down the mountain and back to the posada.

We picked up a bottle of wine to join the bbq party Emeliano (the owner) was having at the hostel. There were a bunch of people, I had fun weaving through the crowd and meeting interesting travels, the best of which were a couple - a Canadian girl, and Colombia guy who had been travelling SA for the last 8 years. Really nice guys.

After going out with them to pick up more alcohol, I decided not to drink anymore, and after a good bit of conversation to hit the sack. I had reached a new point in my life, call it maturity or getting old, that I didn’t see the point in drinking for drinking, nor tiring myself out for no apparent reason - so off I went to bed when I was good and ready.

The next morning Linden (the ausie I had met weeks ago in Bogota but who was now in Medellin too) came by to say goodbye before we went to the airport. Oscar and I were both flying to Bogota where we would part ways, him to see friends for a few days and then go to Cali, and me to meet with my friends and spend XMAS in San Gil with them.


The hangover of heartbreak lingered with me throughout our day, and it didn’t help that we ended our journey in the most romantic way. Oscar had given me 100 years of Solitude, by Gabriel Garcia Marquez. As a romantic gesture he had bought the book to read together, in Toronto just before I left on my trip, and he had read the first 30 pages to me, and for the rest of South America I had read it in bits and pieces, and now on the plane I had to finish the last 20 pages, because I wanted to give him the book back. My original plan was to mail it to him from Colombia, kind of as another romantic gesture, but here he was, so it was perfect just to hand it to him. When I was on the last 5 pages, he asked me if I wanted him to read them to me. I said alright. As the plane landed, all the passengers deboarded, and we were left as the two last lonely souls reading a book. He finished the last paragraph of the story at that moment, the story that had started more than a year ago, he finished the story as he finished our love and our story, here in the plane, here in the airport, here in Colombia, torn apart by the very journey we were on. How beautiful it would have been if it was a beginning and not an ending, but sweet and strange nonetheless.

We split a taxi, that dropped me at my destination and continued on to his. I’m not sure why he kissed me when we said goodbye, as if nothing had happened, and he said he would call. I knew he would not, and the kiss, although it was the last kiss we would ever share had a quiet sweetness in its moment, and filled me with a brief comfort as it felt natural, and good, even though impossible, and it was sad to know something that seemed so perfect at moments would never be again. I said goodbye and wished him well from the bottom of my heart.

It wasn’t long before my dear friend Edgar, who had been a life line for me in Bogota, and the son of my dear friend Luz Marina came to save me. I dropped my stuff and he announced he was taking me to a family XMAS gathering. I was so grateful to see someone who loved me (in the plutonic sense of the word). In the long taxi ride over, I couldn’t help but unburden my broken heart and everything that had happened with Oscar on Edgar. He was a doll. Edgar’s heartfelt advice and insight into my heart consoled me.

He helped me to remember how wonderful I was, independent of the decision or actions of any man, and he helped me to see more of who I was, and how I was good.

We arrived and I met all of Luzma’s brothers and sisters. My mom called my new cell, and once more I was surrounded by love and happiness.

It wasn’t much of a decision to jump on the bus with all of them to San Gill the next day (a beautiful colonial town in the mountains, 6 hours out of Bogota, and the centre of extreme sports). So I never even unpacked my bags, and I barely slept, but one thing was for sure- I was heading in the right direction.

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Comments

[Josevich]

so sad
its like a nicholas sparks novel. makes me feel lonely