At
around 345 pm a very unpleasant sensation began all over my body. I always look
forward to my trips and also enjoy the flights as well as the Lounges that go
with it. But this journey to one of my favourite places, Leticia and the Amazon
River, was not giving me the proper signals.
Even
though I bill myself as the Homeless Jew of Havana, all my travels have a
purpose, I very very seldom travel to sightsee or spend time at the beach or
while away the time at bars or restaurants. I will make exceptions to Museums,
lovely restaurants, good music and literature and of course mingling with the
people, hopefully speaking in their language, during my trips. I have been to
Siem Reap, where the archeological wonder of the world, Angkor is situated but
without visiting the ruins but attending to other matters of anthropological
interest. Same with Schwedagon Pagoda in Yangon. Don’t get me wrong I have
visited both of these marvelous places many times and can act as your guide if
you wish, but the attraction is not Angkor but Siem Reap, not Shwedagon but
Yangon.
This
was not a planned trip, in the last six months I have been to the Amazon twice
and was not intending to go until later in the year.
A
new acquaintance interested in travel to Latin America requested my presence
and without much thought I accepted it.
I
thought I would fit in a quick trip to Havana before going down to the Amazon
today. While there, inklings of the trip to Amazonia going awry was beginning
to surface. I wanted to stay longer in my beloved Havana, my moveable feast
among my close friends who feed my mind, body and spirit. Reluctantly returned
to Miami.
(my Ticuna friends)
We
are unable to interpret symbolism, even if you are a student of Symbolism.
I
do not yet know why the trip to Amazonia turned out like this but I am sure I
will know that in a few days time.
My
sister and her husband had gone out, we said our goodbyes. She called from the
place and asked me to wait till they got home. I put the luggage out and saw
their car pulling in. We greeted and said our goodbyes once again. They went
upstairs to their bedroom and I called Car Share service to take me to the
Airport. A friendly chap by the name of German, looking every bit a Venezuelan
was to be my driver. He politely loaded my luggage into the boot of the car and
that is when my phone rang.
It
was my brother
Don’t
go, he advised. I have never seen you so unhappy at the beginning of a journey.
Usually you are so happy to go to the airport, go to the Centurion Club or
Flagship Club and send us photos of the Champagne or Michelle Bernstein’s
dishes. Just call the airlines and cancel the flight.
It
took me only a few seconds to decide.
I
am sorry German, I told the driver. I
don’t think I will go with you to the Airport.
