When Does It Become Old Hat?

You'd figure after more than a year of constant moving, we'd be used to this. But no. This morning finds us tense, crabby and snapping at each other as we go through our things once again.

We don't have that much. Only a smallish suitcase and two backpacks, but the two hammocks we acquired here take up half the suitcase which leaves no room for our stuff and the gifts we're bringing back. (I have eight of those bags I told you about in my last post.)

Everything we have is laid out on the living room floor right now. Slowly, too slowly, each thing finds a place in one of the bags. What do we need for the last week? What can be tucked safely away not to be touched until we arrive in Atlanta? We also have another larger suitcase at Melissa and Fred's in Panama City that will have to be rearranged before we fly out of Panama too.

I hate this. It just never gets any easier.

Then again, maybe it does. Sorting and packing our Brooklyn apartment took months of cleaning, rearranging, boxing. Blah blah blah.

Yes, blah. That's exactly how I feel right now. It's raining out, and a friend of Lila's has been here all morning. Amani Marcos Guita. He teases Lila. She screams. The more she screams, the more he teases. We're all exhausted from it. The neighbor behind us brought some pizza over for LIla to see if perhaps that would calm things down. It did. Good pizza.

Amani lives on a boat with his parents, Herve and Dag. They've been moving around a lot more than we have. This morning, they decided they also want to leave Bocas. It's not for them. So they'll check the weather, get whatever supplies they need and go. I think they're headed to Colombia. They're also looking for a place to hang their hats. I think they're also a bit tired of all the running around. Last night, Dag told me that she's just feeling lost. When she lived in the US, she felt like she knew herself, knew things, knew what she wanted and figured traveling would teach her even more. But now, she feels like she doesn't know anything.

Whenever we leave somewhere, I start to feel lost. I dont' know where we're going or what we're doing. But before there's a chance to figure it out, I have a long list of things to do. Tedious, boring things that make me wish I could skip through the next few days. It even makes me wish I didn't have to bother with planning a quick trip to San Blas or Isla Taboga (a day trip from Panama City). I just want to be nestled in my room in Atlanta with all our stuff already there.

But I know once we arrive in Atlanta, another To Do list waits, equally boring and tedious. So I suppose it's just best to enjoy the moment in Bocas, especially since I know we won't be back.

There, I said it. It's true.

Bocas is not for us either. It sort of hit me yesterday. We had a goodbye party. It was fun. Started at 1pm and the last person left 9pm at night. But I realized that of all the people we know and have met, there are very few we want to come back to visit in Bocas. Most our friends here will leave soon enough, be it tomorrow or in a year from now.  It's a transient place. A strange and beautiful place, but no one stays too long.

Whenever I leave somewhere, I make a plan to return. Most of the time, though, I do it to trick myself. Oh yes, I'll be back. I'll be back.

But really, what are the chances?

Comments

[Erin]

It's raining here in San José -- has been for the past two weeks -- and this post just adds to the melancholy. I understand how you feel, because there have been several places that I couldn't wait to stop calling "home," but that has always felt to me like a kind of emptiness or uselessness. I hope living in Bocas, though not for you, has been a good and enjoyable experience.

On another note, please tell Dag to hang in there. It sounds like she's firmly in the second stage of culture shock. She's dealing with all the differences, getting very frustrated about it all, but that's completely normal. When she gets through it, and begins to adapt, she will reach the point when she knows how much she's learning. Or at least, that's the theory.

Happy packing!