i wonder what it would be like to wander with someone i love. someone who's as addicted to tripping on traveling as me.
the spanish singer Astrud Gilberto is crooning 'ba ba ba da' over a banjo.
"felicidade...someone to hold my hand...take me to aruanda...summer samba... only trust your heart...because love is the saddest thing when it goes away..."
I want to be in a land faraway, trekking across rocky streams, eating papayas, dodging horses and cows in dusty streets, taking siestas under a sombrero, speaking sassy spanglish to disapproving shopkeepers, scribbling poetry in a leather journal on the rooftops of Cuban casas, and wrapping up in a woven blanket in a rainbow hostel at the end of the night...
wanderlust is tugging at my chest like a bad case of heartache. Is that why i run? to escape the impossible pursuit of resolution within gain, loss and the apathy in between? to defiantly attempt to leap out of the spiral of inevitable circularity that is this life?
for however briefly, yes.
and because new sounds, sights and tastes are my drug of choice.
oh and because reading the wizardry of gabriel garcia marquez's '100 years of solitude' has been giving me daily spanish-country flashbacks.