Hey guys –
This is not a destination based post, but some rambling and life updates since I’ve been MIA for, like, ever now…
Where am I now?
Before I can dazzle you all with exotic new locations every week, I had to save some money. So I’ve been saving and working full time in NYC (not the worst place in the world for a travel addict, eh? Considering the diversity of neighborhoods/restaurants/people is unparalleled.)
Well, I’ve been going stir crazy in NYC for a long time now, and while I was trying to figure out my next move, I got hit by a car. Saying “OUCH” would get you a nomination for Understatement Of The Year, along with some other four letter words that I may have uttered upon being struck.
My “adventures” for the past month:
- Hit by a car in a rough Brooklyn neighborhood. No, the jerk did not stop. Didn’t even slow down. GRR
- Spent the night in a hospital. Laughed a lot at the strange utterings of other patients, the majority of which seemed to be drug addicts. Cried a lot due to the pain. Took about 750 weirdo pics of myself that all came out looking pretty much like this (Or worse. Mostly worse.):
- Waited 2 weeks, had ankle surgery performed by one of the top Ortho surgeons in the U.S.
- Got what is called a “spinal tap headache” for 3 straight days as an after effect of surgery, which was way worse than getting hit by the car.
- Stopped taking pain meds cold-turkey after being on them for 3 weeks = CRAZY WITHDRAWAL SYMPTOMS. Why the bloody hell didn’t anyone warn me about this? I hated how sick they made me from day 1; I always took less than the prescribed dosage and only kept taking them because people were telling me I needed to “keep up” with the meds to keep the pain down. Had I known, I would have only taken the narcotic pain pills the day after the accident and the day after surgery, and taken Tylenol PM to get me through until the pain died down. Luckily they are finally out of my system…I feel terrible for anyone who took them for longer and had to deal with a serious addiction.
Yeah, it blows. But hey – I’m alive. (That’s what I tell myself about every 30 minutes to keep myself from descending into the pits of despair and multiple Haagan Daz containers.)
So the only thing exotic about my current location (my bed) is my peacock pillow. My post-operated leg is elevated and in a splint, and I’m confined to my bed for a little while longer. I refuse to say for how long because I’m still in denial.
Will I dance again?
Those of you who know me, know that dancing is like breathing to me. So yes, I will dance again, since I can’t fathom any other option. I don’t know if I’ll need another surgery to remove the plate and screws in my ankle before I can dance again, but obviously I will do whatever’s necessary to shake my hips like Shaki again before too long. It may be an uphill battle at times, but I’ll be dancing ’til the end of my days, and that’s that.
Heck, I’m dancing as I type this (if you can call bouncing your head from side to side on your pillow while the latest Reggaeton hits bump in my earphones). Which brings me to the next topic of this post…
Reggaeton and Mullets.
Say what!? Much to the dismay of many of my Costa Rican friends, I’ll admit it: I’m a big fan of Reggaeton. A bonafide Reggaetonera (uhhh,ok, not quite..) Most of the time I prefer Bachata, Salsa, Merengue, Spanish Rock/Alternative, and Reggaeton romantico, but there’s nothing like a good ‘ol dirty Reggaeton song to get my hips moving and adrenaline jacked up. My love affair with Spanish music began when I was 12 and discovered the Spanish version to Shakira’s “Whenever, Wherever”.
As I’ve been contemplating all of the countries I want to travel to in the next few years, I’ve been surprised that so many of them actually aren’t Spanish-speaking countries. This forced me to ask myself:
“Have I moved on from my Spanish obsession? Do I actually want to live in a country without Reggaeton blasting from car windows and mullets on 50% of young men?”
>>Wait, but seriously guys, what’s with the mullets?!<<
My answer is both yes and no. I do hope to visit/live in so many different countries, and I never thought I’d have the same passion and excitement for non-Spanish-speaking locations. But nothing gets my heart racing like reading an article on travel in Cuba and watching videos of Cuban musicians and dancers. My love of Spanish music goes way deeper than Danza Kuduro, and it’s here to stay.
I may develop a similar passion for other languages, music and locations, but as the saying goes, there’s nothing quite like your first love. In my quest to travel the world and become a polyglot, Spanish will always be my first love…
…cue music: “ES QUE mi cama huele a tiiiiiiiii…”*
*If you get that reference, we should probably be friends.
