I’m on my way to an adventure. The one you plan for months but in reality you have been waiting for a lifetime. The one that I could only dream reading the National Geographic Magazines from my Uncle Dorian when I was a kid. And here I am, on my way to it.
Travel is one of those things that exercises your spirit. I’ll tell you why, even though security and predictability is one of the things we need in our life, there is also this wonderful thing called chaos. That time when regardless of your planning, something comes out that forces you to exercise the flexibility muscles. What I mean by that that as much as we hate the sudden change, our mind accepts the challenge and most of the times succeeds. This is good. The surprises we like we call them surprises and the ones we don’t like… Well.. We call them problems.
But is good, is all good, that’s the point of traveling, to expose your self to growth. Don’t get me wrong, I do get the point of an uneventful vacation in the Caribbean laying on the beach and having 5 days of naps under the sun with endless margaritas, we all need to rest our bodies. But to me, when is about to give my Mind a rest, something else calls my mind. It has to be adventure. The unknown, the semi planned, ready to spin in a different direction vacation.
Today my wife, discovered that rubber gets dry after many years and that her winter boots, were no longer good for winter. Unless you like holes. The problem was that she find out her boots were no longer good while we were in our way to Philadelphia, just before Boston and Iceland our final destination.
So of course, you plan to do what’s is the best solution. Get to Iceland, get the boots, keep on going. Well. Not so fast, we are arriving into Iceland in Christmas, God knows what kind of weather we are finding so we decided to go another route. With more than 100 pounds of photography gear, we took a cab to Boston and visit a REi store to get fresh new boots.
I always talk to the taxi drivers, and in this occasion it was no difference, the guy was from Armenia. You know.. I’m Gerardo and my Gringo name is “Gerry”, He told me.. “Called me Alexander”. You get the point. We talked about how the world ignores the huge genodice that took place against the Armenians. Quickly we became friends. He was happy that I had a strong accent like him. 32 years as a taxi driver, was raised in Paris, spoke 4 languages and he was happy as a dog. He took me to the store for the boots, waited for us, and on my way back to the airport, he said ” I heard you say something about falafel, do you want me to stop you for something to eat? I know the best place in Downtown Boston. He was right on the money. Funny enough the girl serving me middle eastern food, was actually a Guatemalan.
Alex took me back to the airport, with new boots, a full belly, a renewed sense that humans in General are good and a big hug after my ride. He hugged me. He said: “You are a good man”. I told him : What you see in me is a reflection of who you are. We bless each other, I gave him my business card, I hope he writes me so I can share the photos of my trip.
Now I will never forget him, he gave me a tour for the city, and he gave me the gift of his friendship. How could any of these could have been possible without holes in the boots? You get my point? Happy accidents, they are good for the soul, and they are plenty when you travel.
Once I was with Melissa visiting ancient ruins. Little we knew that there was this beautiful group of people singing. Happy accidents again.