Almost three months ago I arrived in Athens at midnight —a walking chaos with a suitcase, a lined-up nerve-wrecking job interview, a head bursting with excitement and ideas, and a broken heart.
I went up to my room to find an empty bed framed by two other girls already fast asleep. A couple of hours later I’d open my eyes to a beautiful and friendly smile, barely inches away from mine.
“Hi, I’m Marta!”
“Hi, I’m Diana!”
“Nice to meet you. I love waking up next to strangers!”
I couldn’t have been more awkward, but she laughed, and soon after some of that same weirdness was reflected back at me —it was refreshing, and I knew we would get along.
Fast forward a couple of amazing weeks of Greek island hopping, some postcards, some texting, many voice messages, and suddenly there I was —being picked up at Miami International Airport by the same beautiful and friendly smile, this time behind a self-made sign reading “Welcome back home from (sex) rehab, Marta!”.
Talk about awkward and refreshing (I loved it).
Our first stop was authentic Salvadoran food for dinner —a chicken pupusa like I’d never tasted before, which could only be topped by finally meeting Othello, whose huge puppy eyes barely left space for the rest of his facial features, and whose nose was as humid as Miami’s mid-fall air (inside joke alert).
It was a late arrival at D’s home followed by long overdue girl talk until the early morning.
The next day, we enjoyed a succulent cuban breakfast at Versailles after rescuing her mom’s giant Thanksgiving turkey from a collapsed tray in the oven (I had to gasp in disbelief and amusement at her casual “es el más chiquito que pude encontrar”), which would eventually lead to a somewhat false alarm of burnt poultry and smoke everywhere. After our heroic efforts there was my third visit to Fort Lauderdale Beach, last having taken place many years ago, evoking memories of past summers, of a sneaky kiss from a cheeky but charming 18-year-old afroamerican boy at the time years younger than me, of first impressions of Florida, or even the US, and flashes of long car rides to the Keys and the Everglades.
I had the fortune of spending my first Thanksgiving in the United States, welcomed by the warm hospitality of a suburban Salvadoran home in the outskirts of Miami, around delicious and abundant food and engaging conversation with up until then complete strangers who received me at their table like they’d known me forever. There were lots of laughter, and the amazing opportunity to learn more about what it’s like to live in the States first hand —the pros and cons, the blessings and the struggles. An amazing enriching experience which I will no doubt never forget.
The beautiful evening ended with our by then familiar drive back home, followed by more girl talk until way past midnight.
The best home made omelette rollitos I’ve ever tasted entered my stomach as breakfast the following day, and accompanied us to Oleta Beach, where we enjoyed two hours of kayaking around the mangroves, crowned by an adventurous dip, a few (more or less graciously) dodged roots and branches, Pokahontas soundtrack singing destroying and tummy ache inducing cracking up.
“What’s the minimum you’d have to be payed in order to drink a gulp of this water?”
“I don’t know, does my life have a price?”
But nothing was as priceless as the look on Diana’s and Kevin’s faces at the sight of the horrifyingly humongous, edematous Miami Beach mosquito bite on my forehead, big enough to have its own gravitational pull.
“Are you sure you didn’t bump your head??”
After that, the visited colorful Wynwood, sidetracked only by the casual “hey, got ecstasy, LSD, all that” bluntly and unapologetically blurted out at us while turning a corner, as well as a first acquaintance with a $15000 water drone designed for “agricultural activities” frequently sold to “certain sites in South America”. We binged on delicious Asian cuisine like starving little monsters —poke bowls, bao buns and taiyaki (first try ever, sold on the first bite). As the grand finale, I dared to sing destroy “It’s Raining Men” at Sweet Caroline Karaoke Bar armed by the confidence provided by knowing I’d never see my audience victims again.
Drive back home aaaaand more girl talk.
We made it to the airport after our last Salvadoran breakfast and a visit to the movie theater to watch new Disney’s Encanto on American style XXL reclinable seats while being served overpriced food and beverages like true VIPs. By that time my new Miami Pandora charm was proudly dangling right next to the NYC one.
It was pure chaos at MIA until the very moment I sat down on Air Europa’s Boeing 43A (or something), landing in Madrid 9 hours later just to discover I’d booked the wrong date for my connecting flight back to Switzerland. Hence, my forced (but very wholesome) hotel night spent near Madrid Barajas with plenty of time for blogging and room service.
Maybe the reason I’m so aloof and all over the place is that I’m using lots of mental space to process and store the amazing memories I’ve made these last couple of days, or even months. And to come to terms with the joy experienced by having found an AMAZING new friend when I least expected it, and of having had the incredible opportunity to spend so much time with her the way I did.
Life is not perfect. Life can and will be tough at times. But as I have so often experienced, it can also be deeply rewarding and satisfying, just as stepping out your door to a radiant 25°C sunny Florida day in late November.
I’m so, so thankful for mine.
