I have to admit that there were some strange currents running through me at the thought of leaving my hiding grounds.

In the Guayaquil airport, I managed to entertain a group of passersby and the airport security by setting off all the sniffers with my heavily rum-laced Diet Coke in a Nalgene bottle. I didn’t know it at the time, but apparently bringing back opened liquor is nixed, but I so amused the security guard by saying:

“Por favor. Es solo por el aeropuerto!” (Please, it’s just for the airport…)

I think it was more my tone of voice, which managed to convey all the horrors, trials and tribulations of airports everywhere, and in the end, she broke her steely façade, grinned, and said to her companion:

“Creyo que no oele fuerte. Que piensas?” (I think it doesn’t smell too strongly, don’t you?)

And so, thankfully I made it through, and 24 hours later, I was very very glad to have the alcohol with me. Journeying, journeying, journeys, with so many thoughts a swirlin’ through my head. Thoughts of Ecuador and why I was there, and why I was leaving, and the where’s and how’s of my future…contemplation.

Obviously for all those who know me, I came to Ecuador deeply sad, and honestly, I left Ecuador still sad. But maybe with a little more fervor and annoyance at myself. To tell oneself that it’s been a year and a half since the world fell apart in my head – does it help, or does it hinder to put time limits on anger, grief, pity (both self and not)… etc.? Does it help to write a list of all the things around you that are beautiful and tell yourself to start dwelling in them?

And so, I thought of Ecuador, a place where writing swiveled on its slowing-down spinning top and landed in a new tilt and direction. I am, I can say, I could say, I can be saying, I am seeing the world differently. All the people’s movements, all the stories rafting along the lines of bodies, all the tiniest of movements that make so little and so much difference. The reverberations of our moods.

I needed the rum.