Transition

Another sunset

Four o’clock in the afternoon, the sky the palest blue, almost washed bare of all colour except for a seam of gold where the sun has just set behind the hill. I pull my toque a little lower over my ears and adjust my mittens: it is -11 already, snow crunchy under my feet.

It feels like a dream scape, as if I don’t belong here. Tropical summer is still too close: two days ago we watched a harvester cut and chop sugar cane, and it seemed the most natural thing in the world that this should happen in the middle of December.

So much has happened since I left, so many impressions have I taken with me, so many encounters have left their imprint on my soul - I cannot make the transition from where I have been to where I am now in a matter of hours, and maybe not even a few days. It will take time, and what has, by necessity, been compressed will slowly unfold. I will – I know that – revisit many of the places I have seen again and again, and each time more little details will emerge, stowed away, but not to be forgotten. The pictures will help me to remember, of course, and my notes, as often hastily scribbled on a scrap of paper, a napkin, the back of a grocery bill as entered into my journal. Some of the experiences will find their way into this blog, hopefully: a few stories are still begging to be told.

In the meantime, I will find my way back into my home environment, a process that began during the last couple of days, with packing the backpack for the last time at the ‘Alajuela Backpackers’, filling out the customs form on the flight from Houston to Calgary, walking across the tarmac to the terminal after we arrived in Edmonton, when the craving for a bit drier, cooler air from a few days ago was met more than I had bargained for – not that it came as a surprise.

I walked across the pasture with Leo this late this afternoon, the landscape so different from the abundance that had surrounded me for a month, and for a moment I asked myself: what am I doing here? Who in their right mind would want to exchange all that colour and lushness for something this pale and sparse? Who could dare to compare the two?

White Poplar, Alberta

Pochote, Costa Rica

I know that I will find beauty here as I have found it there. Sometimes it hides in the most unexpected places. I just have to look for it. 






This journey was a wonderful experience, and I would not want to miss a single day of it, but this is home, and it's good to be back!