Al principio


The feelings I experienced leading up to this trip were much different than the uncontrolled excitement that consumed me before my first adventure on the South American road. In those last weeks there were ripples of nervousness and doubt and sadness, but underneath that superficial layer was an ocean of calm. I shed tears with friends upon each farewell hug and again in the airport as I said goodbye to my dad. It was scary to take the first step, to remove myself from my comfort zone, ripping the security blanket from over my head. 


But I did it. 


I still cannot say with certainty that I know exactly why I'm here but something tells me that if I am open and patient and if I listen quietly to the whispers in my soul and look carefully at the signs that surround me, I will awaken to the call that has lured me here for so many years.  


It has been less than one week since I arrived to Buenos Aires and it is finally starting to feel real. The first couple days were strange; I was intimidated by the size and noise of the city and unsure of my ability to navigate alone. Faced with an endless amount of time and freedom I was at a loss for what to do with it all, but each hour that passed and each sip of Malbec brought a little reassurance, and I am slowly gaining confidence in my self-sufficiency. 





On my second night I went with my Paraguayan hostel mate to a small little bar to hear some local music that had been recommended to her. The place was cozy and warm with dim lights and old brick walls decorated with family fiesta photos and eclectic worldly collections. The room quickly filled up with young porteños there to see their friends play. Around midnight, a group of chicos took the humble stage armed with a refreshing enthusiasm and quirky instruments.The evening was perfect, I felt like I was listening to a group of college friends at a late night house jam. On our way out the door, a postcard caught my eye; it was a print of a simple painting, lavander background with streaks of violet, yellow, fusia, blue and green. I enjoyed the colors so I put one in my purse and continued out into the cobblestone streets. The next evening, I pulled the card out to look at it again. On the back was a passage about the piece whose words gave me much comfort. I have  translated the message for you, but the magic and sincerity of meaning is always a little lost in translation. 

"Los caminos de la luz" -Maria Alejandro Ramos
"Hay un comienzo de camino? La busqueda es constante. Creemos que el camino se construye cuando en realidad siempre estuvo alli y solo nos resta ir descubriendolo. Esta esperando ser despertado, de a poco, poniendose de manifesto ante nuestros ojos. Tal vez a medida que esa visibilidad se hace mas evidente, mas tangible, nos percatamos de que el camino siempre fue uno. En esencia siempre el mismo, en apariencia nunca igual... El trabajo constante, la evolucion y profundizacion de esa necesidad y busqueda de la luz, que la lleva por distintos rumbos a la contemplacion de los pasajes, de la vida misma." 


"Is there a start to the path? The search is constant. We believe that one creates their own path when in reality it was already there and all that remains is for us to go discover it. It is there waiting to be awakened, slowly manifesting itself before our eyes. Perhaps, as this visibility becomes more evident, more tangible, we realize that the road was always one. In essence always the same, in appearance never equal...The constant work, the evolution and deepening of this necessity and search for light carries you on a distinct course through the contemplation of the journeys, and of life itself."


The synchronicity of life never ceases to amaze me. The timing and relevance of those words in my life right now is inexplicable. There are messages all around us, little indications to let us know we are on the right track. Open your eyes to these tiny details and listen to that quiet but persistent voice in your head. 

Fear not, all will be as it should. 




With Love from Argentina,
Jessica