No One Seems to Be in a Hurry

Traveling, like life, is filled with choices. Do you want to eat in the hostel or house where you are staying or eat out at a restaurant? Do you want to stay in a hotel, hostel, camping or in a private house? Do you want to go to ______ on your own or with a tour? A full day or half a day or multiple days? Do you want to take the recommendation of Joe traveler or continue down the path you had planned? Do you want to have a plan

One of the aspects of travels I have most come to love is the unexpected nature of the beast. You wake up after having decided that sure you would accompany José, Sabine, the German in the house and Jorge, the Argentinean to the beach instead of going to Playa Blanca only to find the house dark and asleep at 8 am. José off handedly mentions you will all go, “pero más tardecito.” You are not sure if that means later in the morning, later in the day as in the afternoon or not at all. You decide to go for a run to a part of the city you do not yet know. You come back an hour later and now everyone is up, but they are all seated at the table eating breakfast; no one seems in any hurry to go to the beach. 

Ronald, José’s friend from the night before stops by for a beer and then José leaves, saying he has to vote. You are now sure the beach is not happening. You regret momentarily having changed your plans to stay in Cartagena, but recover quickly and begin to research beaches you can get to on your own. Jorge asks what you are doing and says he too wants to go to a beach, as does Sabine. But Jorge needs to go out to change some money. You agree to wait – no one seems to be in a hurry and the day is young.

Jorge comes back at noon and it seems like the time to leave for the beach, only now Sabine needs to wait 40 minutes to call her boyfriend in Germany that she hasn’t spoken to in 3 or 7 weeks and needs to wifi. Jorge decides to cook lunch to take to the beach. No one seems to be in a hurry.

You decide to post an album of your photos on facebook and the phone rings. It’s José wondering if we’re ready to go to the beach. He talks to Jorge – no less than four times – before it is finally time to go to José’s sister’s house in Marbella. We will eat there with some friends of his from Medellín and then go to the beach. Sabine agrees to call her boyfriend from her house and we go outside to get a taxi. José has not given us an exact address so we spend the next 20 minutes driving up and down streets in Marbella until Jorge recognizes the house. No one seems to be in a hurry.

We arrive at the house and are greeted by José, his sister and her son and they proceed to show us around a house they are redecorating before we go upstairs to in theory eat lunch. But the girls from Medellín ya viene and they are bringing chicken. Sabine asks about the internet, but it’s out in the building and she will have to wait another 3 or 7 weeks before she is able to talk to her boyfriend. She shrugs and laughs. Someone is making pasta before we realize we have forgotten the pesto at home. José’s sister says she will go out for bread and soda and does anyone need anything. We sit on the couch and José offers us cookies and asks Sabine to make a salad. No one seems to be in a hurry.

Ruby and Laura from Medellín show up with a chicken and a half and soon the table is full of chicken, rice, fried eggs, toritlla española, bread, salad and both Coca-Cola and a local soda that is red and sweet in taste. It might be strawberry.  José insists on a group photos before we begin. We eat and eat and eat until we can’t eat any more and then José tells us to eat more, so of course we do. Afterwards, coffee is offered and Ruby and José want coffee. It is 2:30 in the afternoon. Absolutely no one is in a hurry.

We get to the beach across the street from José’s sister’s house no earlier than 3:30 in the afternoon and rent 3 chairs for the 8 of us at 1000 pesos a chair. José insists on at least four group photos before we can go into the bath water that is the Caribbean Ocean. The waves are small and we float on the water. We make a starfish with our hands interlaced and one foot touching one another and water goes up our nose and we laugh. It’s impossible to want to hurry.

The sun dips low in the sky and the full moon rises in the distance. We take turns snapping photos of the group jumping into the sky – all of sillohuettes against the dusk sky. We are covered in sunblock, salt and sand.

We leave the beach, the sky a fiery pink and decide to cook milanesas all together back at José’s house. First we have to go back to his sister’s to pick something up; then we have help Ruby and Laura get settled into the apartment they are fixing up since they hadn’t reserved a place to stay; then we go to the store to buy what we need before hailing a taxi back to José’s place. 

It is election day so there in no alcohol for sale but José says he knows a place and disappears with Ruby to find beer while Jorge cooks enough Milanesa to feed a small army. The house is hot with the heat of the day mixed with the heat from the kitchen and I chop lettuce and tomatoes for the salad, while Laura chops guava for dessert. Preparing dinner takes hours, but hurry is not even a word in my vocabulary anymore as the music floats through the house and we chat about Laura’s major and Jorge’s daughter and beautiful it is to meet new people.

José and Ruby arrive with cases of small green bottles of costanita and they are immediately stored in the freezer where they will come out so cold that you will drink them in three sips. A friend of José calls. He has seen him on the street just now and “¿quién fue esta hermosura que estaba con él?” José tells him to come over and meet Ruby if he thinks she is so pretty, but hurry, the table is set and the milanesas are hot.  José insists on a group photos and then we eat and eat and eat until we can’t eat anymore. But somehow we do.

There are more dishes than space on José’s counter and I wash and wash and wash through two costanitas and an entire conversation about a farm reserve that we all must visit. They are still watching the video about it when I come back. “Let’s go to the plaza! It’s Jorge’s last night!” Sabine must get up early and decides not to go, but Nicholas has returned from his day of studying. José calls Maye who is angry that she wasn’t invited to come to the beach and tries to convince her to join us. But she is still offended and cannot be convinced.

We stroll to the plaza taking up the street and sidewalk and jump to one side when a car honks to get by. The plaza is filled with young people juggling and couples kissing and vendors pushing carts selling manzanilla and other infusiones. There is no alcohol because of the ley seca. We sit people watching. Jose’s friend who is enamored with Ruby points out a guy with magnifying glass and a light who is pointing out women who are sitting indecently. “Miramiramira el puntero.” He says mira over and over again as if it were one long word.

Everyone is tired and we meander back to Jose’s house after an hour or two. It is close to midnight when we arrive home and the doorbell rings. It is Maye. She has reconsidered and would like a milanesa and some of the arroz con pesto after all. José is happy to see her and since no one is in a hurry, midnight is the perfect time to share a meal. I am so tired my eyelids feel like weights on my eyes and I say my goodnights and goodbyes.

In bed, the air is heavy and the breeze non existent even though the only thing dividing me from the outside is a bedsheet. Sleep is not in a hurry and neither am I.