Wishing Stars

My brothers and I LOVE camping.

The last time we went out together for an "adventure" was January 2008. My wonderful cousin Karina and one of our childhood friends tagged along for the ride, as well as one of my brother's girlfriends at the time. And her sister and nephews, lets not forget that. We thought we had everything calculated, to the meals to be had to the time spend on the road. 

My brother had even thrown the possibility of proposing to his girl when we reached one of the waterfalls. It was quite the ambitious plan, nothing could go wrong, right?

This became a horrific yet amazing trip that I would totally do again. It was our first trip together without our parents, our first trek on our own, to face the wilderness... if by that you picture a caravan of fully equipped 4x4 trucks with handy camping gear, we weren't exactly going for a crazy survival experience.

But it easily became one.

Nothing went as planned, because of carelessness, miscalculations, being too bold or too scared at the wrong things, and then it became clear to me, the one night all of our cars had broken down in the middle of nowhere, that this was probably what life would be like. One big state of uncertainty.

I don't know if the fact that I was holed up and angry, delirious from sun poisoning and trying to doze off in my tent was aiding my philosophical study that particular night, but the fact is that the conversations had during that trip were eye openers.

This was also before my family disbanded to try to find a better future for all of us, and eventually be together again.

During that trip, my cousin Karina and I would sit on the river at night, after fixing dinner, and gaze at the silver streaks that painted the surface of the water from time to time. We would watch the stars that shone so bright above us, the ones that you could only appreciate when you're just a hop away from the Amazon. The sense of peacefulness that we were given was mind blowing, even when we were surrounded by many campers that crowded that camp to the brim.

There were many shooting stars, many wishes thrown out to the Universe, wrapped in hopeful sighs and serene smiles. We never asked each other what we wished for, just in case we'd jinxed it, and the moment, like many others I know I've forgotten, was stored in the drawer of "Things I'll look back at eventually and wonder how life was ever this simple."

The similarities of that trip to what life has become for us, are uncanny.

A few years ago, not too long ago, really, the plan for life for us was different. We were"equipped" to go out there and have a blast, to "enjoy" life. Our concept of "Life Enjoyment" though, I believe was shortsighted at the time.

Just like in that trip, we thought we were in for some sightseeing, but it quickly turned into a whole challenge to not only try to make it back home, but make it back in one piece. After a 28hr drive, in which we couldn't shut down our cars in fear they wouldn't start again, and taking turns as drivers and switching car batteries to keep the cars running, we crawled up our parents' driveway, exhausted and hungry. We laid back on the concrete slab and thought about what we did wrong, angry at the circumstances and at each other, but there was no hatred. Amazingly enough, there was a sense of brotherhood I don't think we had before we had left a week before.

In the city we couldn't see the stars anymore, but we didn't forget the promises thrown at the Pleiades. We didn't forget about the magic, we didn't forget about Hope.

I really don't have that many pictures from that trip, because I spent more time living my surroundings than just looking from afar, more time trying to navigate our limitations and use our environment than just staying on the safe paved roads, more time realizing that even the things that seemed safe could actually be the things that put you in danger. What I need to remember from it is burned on my brain, experiences learned and understood. We reached our goal, we had gotten "home."

My brother didn't end up marrying that girl; the trip also showed him his own different outcome, eventually driving him to a different finish line, and the right person to share his life with.

The trip showed us, that in reality, most of the time the sense of Home is skewed, especially if you're just starting your own road. Because at this point of your life, these adventures are not set for weekend visits, but for a nomadic expedition, even if for you just means moving across the street.

Just like the moment after from our 2008 trip, I need to regroup. At this moment of 2013, I need to understand that, while the trip I've been on for the past few years was planned with a set outcome and now is making me take a route I don't want to take, the fact that it drew different results doesn't mean that the trip has been a failure. It doesn't mean that we can't go camping again. It doesn't mean that this is the end of the road, though sometimes it feels like it.

I need to process the gifts and experiences that I've collected along the way; to cherish the beauty and marks that they've left behind, and then realize how these bags of new wealth can provide for yet another trip. Another trip to finally make it home, the real one, the one I make.

No part of all of that comes easy, or fast, or pain free.

I've had the luck to meet the people that I've met, the people I've learned from, the people that have made this trip worth while, each experience with them a gift from which I've drawn the most wisdom I can gather. I've had the chance to prove myself wrong when I said that fantasies are just fantasies, to live through situations that escape logic, and with those lucky breaks, run into even more amazing people that I would have never found on a safe and paved road. It is because of you, each and everyone of you that are reading this, that "that" needed understanding doesn't come easy, even when I'm willing myself to it, even when you are.

Each of you have changed me, shaped me into something I'm proud of, giving me new ambitions, making me realize that I belong, at last. You finally gave me something to be passionate about and that's the most beautiful gift I've received.

Los Angeles became my home because of you, because of each and everyone that became a river to sit and ponder, to feed from and enjoy, to find solace when things were going awry. This place is my anchor because I found the humanity in it, even when is so tough. This place is mine because even when you rarely see REAL stars, dreams do come true from time to time, because you make them happen, because I've managed see myself reflected in the chaos of the city and learned to appreciate the beauty of it all; because when you finally find your North, the things you hoped for and the magic that you prayed for, no longer seem like abstract wishes but actual structures you can build on.

That's why imagining my life without you is hard and why I'm not saying goodbye to L.A. I don't lie when I tell you that at some point I loved you for what you brought into my life, for the warm hug and the push to keep going, that's why I don't consider me going back in a month to Venezuela the end of my trip. I'm just telling you that I'm coming back later... for a coffee and a scone at Porto's and a walk at 4am when writer's block threatens to hit strong.

For now, I need to explore another road to come back home again.
I will see you later.