Funny How We've Grown, But Haven't

Our table sat at the top of the amphitheatre and provided clear view of the ocean through the Greek columns.  As I scooped tropical fruits into fluffy waffles and listened to my travel mates chatter I paused a moment to consider how much things had changed.  I pictured us as college freshman shuffling through the Evans cafeteria to place whatever looked edible onto our brown trays before joining friends at tables adorned with plastic in floral print.  Now here we were passing around a dainty glass pitcher of maple syrup at a hilltop paradise.  I never could have imagined it.



Breakfast provided the perfect calm start to what we hoped would be a lazy day. The 10am beach shuttle was called to pick us up and we climbed in unaware of what waited for us.  The wooden slats we sat on provided no cushioning as "the little engine that could" navigated a narrow road of dirt and rock weaving down the side of the mountain.

For the first hour we wandered north to explore the coast.  We played on large rocks, watched crabs dodging us and the waves, and were amazed how many tiny shells with legs there were on the ground we traveled.  Every step felt an adventure, every obstacle on the path an exiting puzzle to solve.  



We then retired to lounge chairs and hammocks for the lack of exertion we all desperately needed.  It was in that moment that I learned the difference between vacationing and travel.  The latter I have done many times in my adult life; the former, never.  It's not always easy to make myself stay still when there's so much out there for my eyes to absorb.

Back at the room I could tell the clouds were building outside for one of the late afternoon rainstorms I expected we'd get for most of the trip.  I sat alone in the room listening to the forest receive its nourishment while the guys pampered themselves with massages.  Enough light broke through the clouds at sunset to turn the entire sky behind the patio doors a fuzzy orange-pink color that disappeared almost as quickly as I discovered it.  The moment flashes back as gentle, sad and beautiful.  It seems no matter where I go or how old I get those adjectives go hand in hand.
 
Our sole venture away from the hotel grounds presents an equally strong image.   I can still see the road as it looked from the back seat through the front windshield.  The headlights of our silver Montero are adding an eerie glow to rows of walking trees that mimic the army of broomsticks from The Sorcerer's Apprentice.  We're twisting down the mountain trails with music blaring that I don't recognize a word of but whose melody has an intoxicating effect.  My friend is singing along loudly and joyfully (and badly) as he navigates the turns.

I later learned that the title of this piece of Spanish pop means "unforgettable"; exactly what the moment became in my eyes.  Given a lifelong tendency to pair emotion with sound, the tune will always flash me to being young and careless and completely okay with those things.  I will see a picture of freedom and the joys of being old enough to have it while still being young enough to embrace it.  Energy, simplicity, passion, potential.  Inolvidable.