And so it ends the way that it began...con lluvia. Although the journey greeted us with clouds and now sends us off from esta isla with more drops hitting the window, there were so many bright moments in between. I have to come back to this place, my home. The history of this place has drawn me in. Wandering the old streets, seeing the antique walls and homes. I want to keep breathing in this place. Dreaming of a life here if only for a brief moment in time. And to have met such beautiful people. Como Blas the cab driver who was chosen for a rubber chicken and who in the end became our friend. Who is beautiful and helped us to see the island and him. He was more than our driver, he was a guide, a helper, and a confidant. And in this seemingly closeted place to have chosen someone who could relate to the girls was joy. And then there was David, uninhibited in ways, but terrified to be seen by others.
A beautiful man with a gorgeous Spanish accent, from Madrid, who helped me ring in the most important birthday of my life thus far. Not important because of the number, but because it is the first birthday I have had as an adult in which I have been free. En la placita mercado David began the song at the stroke of and the crowd joined in singing happy birthday to a complete stranger--what an amazing moment. Then to Krash Klub where fear and acceptance were both present. David found acceptance from us and the crowd, came into his own and we saw his true side. But his friend Joe had only fear. Fear of people who are just like any other but in this place seen by many as outcasts for their preference for their own gender.
And fear that he would be mistaken for one of these people--so he fled. Left us and his friend David to drink and dance the night away. And this we did. At the end of the evening we said goodbye to David knowing we had met yet another truly beautiful person who we helped to be himself and who also was now our friend. And then we met Old San Juan and I was in love with its New Orleans feel, but rooted in hispanoamerica. I know I have to go back. I have to live there and breathe there for a time and I will take any steps needed to make it so. It was in Old San Juan where I encountered the weeping Buddha. I ran my finger down his spine and felt an overwhelming sense of relief. I wanted to weep for my happiness in this moment by contained myself, leaving the shop with the sense that the moment when my fingers touched the spine was in some significant to the rest of my journey on this earth.
I'm s tree climber.
And I fell in love with San Juan some more. Found a street I would love to live on. A street that was the main artery or at least used to be. Walking through la puerta de San Juan it is there. Plant and tree lined with old brick streets and buildings with windows bigger than doors that opened so wide that you could see the heart of the home. I wanted to live there. I wanted to breathe there. And the street leads straight to the cathedral. Where the travelers from before would go immediately after their journey had ended and thank God for the safe passage they had received.
And I felt a sudden connection with these travelers from long ago. The knowledge that I was walking the same streets that travelers had been traversing for 500 years before me filled me with comradery. I decided then that I too was an adventurer and was destined to come back to this place. This was where I could bring my pen and create my art. We walked through the streets and I saw the For Rent signs all the while imagining my little run down San Juan apartment of the future. Then we saw the poem through the glass and went inside the shop. It spoke to all three of us and I found the books of poetry irresistible. At the last moment the shopkeeper admitted the poet was his wife and she was at their shop if I wanted the books signed. And thus we met Lady, another beautiful soul who is our friend. She signed my books, looked at our photos, read me a poem, told us her dream for the Poets Passage, and I left her presence feeling even more certain that I am meant to go back. But for now I am flying across the ocean again, with the melding of the blues, back to my birthplace what is no longer my home.
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