Twinkly Gifts

Early in the trip I had flashbacks to prior travels and adventures. So perhaps it’s not surprising that I now find myself flashing back to scenes from earlier in this journey. Both times it just felt like my brain was stirred up a bit. Memories were being shaken loose due to circumstance and floating into the present like twinkly gifts from my past. So fascinating.

In the beginning, Newfoundland sparked memories from the 90’s in Alberta when I had several friends from the rock. Wales brought floods of childhood memories: sorting seashells, drinking Ribena, going on beach walks, and playing in tide pools. Settling in Cerdanya I was reminded of other places I’d lived for a while: Brussels, Stavanger, Quito, Tarifa … even my exchange to Donnaconna outside of Quebec City and a summer working in the Canadian Prairies. I remember the vibrant charming apartment in Quito where I lived with a family with three girls my age. I remember the freedom of roaming the streets of Donnaconna on warm summer nights at age fourteen. I remember burning the candle at both ends to squeeze the most out of summer days and nights in Norway and Andalucia. Hiking above the treeline in Catalonia brought me back to so many hikes and scrambles in Alaska. Who needs a map when you can plan adventures just by gazing at peaks and dreaming. Taking trains to Paris and Switzerland brought flashbacks to backpacking adventures in Oceania, Asia, and South America in my twenties. And of course I remember the great friends with whom I shared these adventures - Sophie, Liz, Anne, Isabelle, Sara and many more.

In the beginning …

It’s been happening again. I’m spontaneously remembering the flower-shaped gelato in the streets of Paris. Out of nowhere the vast plains of the Serengeti are on my mind. Maybe sparked by a green field in New Zealand. Rainforests give me Okinawa vibes. I’m remembering the most awesome remote Japanese coffee shop in the hills. I gaze at rocky rugged coastlines and think about Newfoundland and Wales. Out of the blue I long for coffee from Marrakech or Manchester. I find myself missing medieval stone and foreign languages. I think about Bellver and know I left a piece of my heart there. We all did. The other day I thought of the Malealea band and choir and wondered if we’ll bring shoulder dancing back with us. I see any white person lumbering down the street and I’m reminded that no one moves with the grace of Kenyans. They are a different breed, built for speed.

Maybe I’m just hanging on to what is now the final sand slipping through my fingers. Maybe my mind is letting go as this chapter closes … and all these twinkly gifts float around in my snowglobe of a brain. Regardless, it feels sweet. There is a parallel feeling floating around that wonders “did we really do this”. Maybe this is my subconscious reassuring me “yes, yes you did”.

In the end …