‘Are you happy?’ – she asks me.
‘Yes, because I have you’, – I say.
‘Are you happy?’ – I ask her.
‘Yes, because I have you’ – she replies.
Young children live in the permanent state of happiness.
Can you blame them? They only want what is fun, and they want it now. When they don’t get it, they cry and they stomp their feet. Not being able to go to the park because it’s raining outside is the end of the world for them. Sometimes I feel like a child, just can’t stomp my feet.
I watched ‘The Pursuit of happyness‘ a couple of weeks ago. I am pretty sure I had seen it before. How could I not, Will Smith is in it, so I must have seen it! This time the story played on my heartstrings. How much has a parent got to do to survive, to pull through. How one just doesn’t give up, because he can’t afford to, because there’s a little person who needs him. And how imagination and games make it all so much easier on our little ones. How amazingly beautiful and at the same time awfully hard it is to be a parent.
These days I work eight hours a day, five days a week. I feel constantly tired and can’t find time for anything, especially myself. Back then I worked twelve hours a day, six days a week. And during my weekly day off I managed to clean the house, do my laundry, buy groceries and enjoy the beach.
How? How was it all possible back then?
Five years doesn’t seem to be such a long time, in the scheme of things. But how everything has changed. Hell, things drastically changed in two years for me!
After I ran away from Spain, I emerged myself into a very comfortable routine in Mexico. I didn’t care about boys. That was definitely not on my mind. Mark my words, love does find you when you least expect it. Funnily enough, I tend to forget that.
I was quite happy with my twelve hour shifts, to be honest. Oh, it wasn’t easy, but the money at the end of the day was good. Besides, the job was not stressful at all. I just had to get used to the following:
-power cuts
-flooded streets
-no running water in the bathroom at work
-people being late
The hours I’d spend waiting for the store to open, sat on a bench next to it and having conversations with whoever was in a mood for it. To me 10 am meant arriving 10 min early. To Mexicans it meant showing up at about 10.30 am or so. Remember what I said about wanting things now? Plus, not having any patience? Here you have it! It was pure torture… I just wasted time and energy getting frustrated about it. Being late is part of the culture here. But even after four years I still can’t get used to it. They even have a joke about it. Invitations to attend an event are sent for an earlier time, not the real hour it starts. But those who are invited know the trick. Mexicans still show up late, as they know they were invited early.
I was saving my pesos (and dollars) and was set on leaving when the slow season started. I had a plan to visit those Central American countries that me and my Peruvian skipped: Belize, El Salvador and Costa Rica. I read the guidebooks, I marked the pages, I was getting ready.
I promised my boss I’d be back. And why wouldn’t I? Working in the silver jewelry store was a great way to make money, to practice my Spanish, improve my Russian and my French, make new friends and even meet people from back home. If not for the shortage of toilet water!..
Soon enough April came. I packed my backpack, took those guidebooks and boarded a bus going to Belize.