In a Dream

I woke up to the sun shining, birds chirping, a gentle mountain breeze over me, feeling like I must still be dreaming. No one seems to be home, or if they are, they're sleeping, and this palatial estate is all mine. Not exactly, as someone appears when the phone rings, pero igual, it's amazing. The kind of place where you expect Frida and Diego to pop up, and all their bohemian, lefty friends to stream in and out with the breeze.

So here I am in Mendoza, a beautiful, beautiful town, completamente de vacaciones, libre de tiempo, de la hora. I can hardly stop reading Kafka on the Shore, but I pulled myself away to save something delicious to read later. I don't know what I'm going to do here except hang out with Fed's family, help them. Last night, I met Fed's family and some of his comrades from the MST (Movimiento Socialista de Trabajadores--not the landless workers' movement) and other friends over beer, pizza, empanadas, vino, and...Fernet. The other trago Argentinos drink more than wine...super rico...demasiado. It's made from walnuts, from what I gather, and tastes strong, like anise a little. You drink it with Coca Cola. Mmmm, and generally the kids hang out (legally, protected by the cops, if you can believe it) in Mendoza's huge municipal park all night, drinking Fernet, tocando la guitarra, fumando pico, charlando, y eso...But we kicked it on the back patio at Fed's, which on the weekends is transformed into a clandestine Mexican restaurant for family friends called Subcomandante Taco.

It's nice to be in the company of friends, of English-speakers no less and people with similar politics. But still I find myself in these quandries about what I'm doing here, alone. How pinche americano to travel solo, and sometimes, how lonely. I feel awkward sometimes, speechless, sometimes lost because of language, not following the conversation or knowing what to say...but then this happens also in English, and not only when I'm traveling, so I guess it's something I'm stuck with. I feel weird, not normal, but then I'm sure this is a problem of being a social person, of being an independent person, of being a bit of a loner who wants company from time to time. A bit of an introvert, or maybe an extrovert clambering to get out of my shell. The watchword is the heart, struggling to keep it open, feel as safe as I know I am to be myself, staying warm and breathing in and out in my heart, the only thing I know for sure and will always have with me.