El Sur con Dámaris

That black Swiss backpack has been a few places. That little red camera in my left hand has taken a few pictures. That scarf has been worn a few times.

The stories come out slowly. There are some that have been told a few times. Like when I caught about 20 fish in the Atlantic Ocean off the coast of Fuerteventura. Or when I got to take a train up into the Swiss Alps. But this story has never been told.

It was Saturday. I hadn’t been up too late the night before. I was preparing. Hoping for nice weather. It was mid December, so I had learned what to pack when preparing for a small adventure. Swim suit, towel, sunscreen, tennis shoes, flip flops, camera (with full battery), scarf, sweat shirt, shorts, food, water (tucked between my legs in this picture), chap stick, ID, cell phone, money for bus pass. All stuffed into the pockets of that black backpack. I have a strange relationship with that backpack. We’ve been many places together. But it was often heavy, and large, and barely fit into the overhead compartments on the smaller planes I had to fly in.

I got to the tram later than I had hoped, but I let Dámaris know that I was on my way. It would take me about 30 minutes to get down to the bus station in Santa Cruz. It had started to rain as I walked to La Trinidad, the very last tram stop in La Laguna. I was hoping that the south would bring sunshine and a little warmth to my cheeks. Dámaris and I caught our bus just in time. We spent an hour and a half talking about life on the ride down to Las Américas. The beaches on the southern end of Tenerife were surrounded by large hotels, and English speaking tourists. The sand was still darker than any beach I had been to in the U.S. We thought about signing up for surf lessons, but the wind was strong that Saturday. Needless to say, we chickened out. We walked along the coast, talking about life a little bit more. We took a little dip in the ocean. It was December. The water was cold. We walked. We enjoyed each others company. Night came and we ended up back at the bus stop. We were tired. It had been a long day. It had been a good day. A day full of nothing, yet a day full of everything. A small adventure involving a lot of laughter, and a lot of English.

It was days like this one that helped me figure out why I was on that island.


1 Comment (+add yours?)

  1. Kyra
    Mar 19, 2010 @ 11:17:59

    Thinking of you today and praying that you are doing well. You were so strong in high school and I have faith that you have only gotten stronger.


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