Scratching That Itch

Waking up in Rio Claro, in our tree-house open air room, was a treat. I was happy to discover that we had not had any slithering visitors in the night, something they said could happen as you were perched in the dense jungle. A little sleep deprived from the crazy toucan that had come to visit and loudly announced his presence in the night (scaring the you know what out of me), but otherwise ready to see more of this crazy place.

After a surprisingly good breakfast, complete with Colombia's favorite rock hard, flavorless "arepa" (a fat corn tortilla kind of a thing), we set out to raft the Rio Claro's crystal waters.

*(a quick aside) Not sure how or why arepas literally swept the entire country as a good idea, but it was the single most unappealing food we'd come across. My husband had taken to making a face of repulsion any time he forced himself to try another one, it was awesomely hilarious.

Being that we live in Dixon, NM, an area known for its fantastic white water rafting, a float down a river was not exactly 'exciting', but rather a fun activity. That is until they steered our raft directly under the torrent of a waterfall. Our son, a kid that hates having water on his head, screamed in terror. He is 11 by-the-way so it was fully HIS choice to climb aboard this raft, it was not his dad and I torturing a small baby...just wanted to make that clear. With water gushing over my face, I tried to console him, yet as the guide kept us swirling in place, the other guests in the boat loving it, I worried that my child was actually going to jump overboard. Needless to say, it was a bit traumatic. One of the most impressive moments of the trip was when we finally emerged from under the waterfall, our kiddo crying, and he quickly pulled himself together setting his mind to having fun again! A pretty amazing thing for a kid with sensory issues to pull off. I was so proud of him.

The rest of the trip was filled with the guide rattling on about who knows what (remember that there is zero English being spoken anywhere in Colombia so clearly it is not happening in the jungle in the middle of nowhere) only my husband and the other Spanish speakers could say. My son happily drifted off into his imagination, staring into the wild juggle we passed. But me? I was still a little sleep deprived and my brain simply could not keep up with the translating, so while the boat full of people seemed to be having a wonderful time with tales of the history and details about what we were seeing, laughing at jokes that must have been amusing, I started to feel intensely lonely.

Just when I thought I might fall into a deep well of self pity, we pulled onto shore at a huge cave that had a current through a deep pool making it like a ride of sorts. By letting your life vest hold you up, you would let the water push you through the channel in a fast whoosh around a central island and find yourself on the other side. Once again the three of us were laughing and playing and that bond that I had envisioned we'd have, taking on adventures together, was back. Yet there was a lingering open space inside me, I realized with ultra clarity, that I had been focusing so much for 11 years on my family, that I didn't know how to be happy just being with myself, finding my own individual enjoyment. It was a strange sensation and one that would have me pondering for weeks to come.

The raft trip came to an end, leaving us standing in an emerald green field filled with white floppy eared, humpbacked cows, waiting for our ride back to the Lodge. No Colombia story would be complete without yet another insane driving detail, so of course, the truck that arrived was a surprise. This truck looked like it was there for the cows, but no, they squished a couple rafts worth of people onto the benches inside its large wooden box attached to the back of the cab, and hurled us down the road. As the truck swerved and screeched around corners, I watched the slates of the floor move and shift; yep, this was a totally ridiculous way to transport paying guests. A fine dust wafted up from the angry dirt road into our faces and everyone began to cough. No longer surprised by the 'vehicles of fear' in Colombia, my husband and I looked at each other, then we looked at our son, and then in unison, we all laughed. As I bathed in the warmth of our private family joke, I thought again about my personal enjoyment verses the enjoyment of doing things with the people I loved. The raft trip would not have been nearly as fun had I been alone, and the stories we shared over dinner not as fun if we had not experienced it together. But the nagging itch at the back of my mind struggled with feeling deserted when large gaps of time on the trip were spent 'solo'.

Safely back at the Lodge, my son and I trudged our way back to the pay-more-so-you-can-hike-more-room while my husband climbed onto the back of a motorcycle and got a 5 star thrill ride down to the next town to be reconnected with his cell phone...that he had left of the bus the day before. I know, it is totally ludicrous that we both lost our phones within 2 days of each other. Yet here we were again at the mercy of the kindness of the Colombian people to help us retrieve our belongings. Jesse would return hours later with a harrowing story of nearly being smashed by semi-trucks out on the highway and of the incredible juggling it took to get his phone back to him. He had the glow of adrenaline shinning in his cheeks as he regaled us with stories. Again that itch at the back of my mind called for my attention, how was it that he could find himself in any situation and always be jovial, engaged and excited, alone or with loved ones? What was his trick? How did he magically connect with other people, instantly becoming the best of friends and disappear into that new relationship? Was it the motherly instinct to always think of others 1st; give up my comfort and interests for the sake of the family? If I could turn that off, would I too be able to do this? Would I really want to?

That day slid into the night and filled with the strange sounds of the jungle. A bottle of wine and quite conversation with my adoring husband, while our son lay reading in bed, and that itch began to fade. Maybe I didn't need to figure it out, maybe I was over thinking it, or maybe, and hear me out on this, wine really does cure EVERYTHING?

-Cheers from the Vivác Winery Family!
www.VivacWinery.com