Jungle Lessons

“Nothing’s gonna change my world.” -The Beatles

     Our time in the jungle has come to a close and I have no hesitation in saying that this last month has taught me more about life than any other collection of 30 days I have lived.  It is definitely bittersweet to leave, right now seeming more bitter than sweet.  Ahead of us lies the town of Banos (translated literally to “baths”) and a world of hot showers, laundry, wifi, and bars.  A month lacking all of these luxuries would make anyone a little antsy to return to this life.  We will be accompanied by another traveler, a 26-year-old from Philadelphia named Jameson.  He came to the farm a few weeks back and is going to tag along for the next stage of the journey.  After a few days in Banos the girls will head north back to Quito, where they will work on another farm.  My next stop is unknown.  I will head west in search of a hostel to volunteer at for a month.  I had been emailing a lot of hostels to see if I could get on at any of them but my email recently was hacked.  It sent spam to everyone I had emailed in the last year or so, meaning every hostel I had been trying to work at now marked me as spam.  I think I will head to Guayaquil and just work my way up the coast until I find a hostel.  Keep your fingers crossed.
    Our final weekend seemed to blindside us.  It feels like just last week we had just gotten off the bus and walked the muddy trail to the hut that would become our home.  Angelica’s birthday was yesterday (Sunday).  We went into town Saturday for her birthday dinner consisting of pizza (we passed on armadillo).  Last night we had dinner with Marco’s family.  One last hangout with all the kids and then we said our goodbyes.  Goodbyes seem a lot heavier when they carry “forever” with them.  Marco gave us temporary, hand drawn, tattoos.  Supposedly they last 70 days, but I guess time will tell.  I was going to get mine on my bicep but, let’s be honest, that doesn’t supply a whole lot of room for any sort of art.  I opted for a small phrase on the inside of my forearm.
     As we left the house we were accompanied by most of the family, as they were on there way into Puyo.  Marco’s oldest daughter has been in the hospital in town and in stable condition.  We are not totally certain what her ailment is but she is almost 9 months pregnant on top of it all.  She is single and has a son, a 4-year-old named Jordan who basically melts my heart.  He gets a kick out of riding on my shoulders, taking pictures with my camera, and jumping into my arms so that I can swing him around until we are both very dizzy.  I was in Puyo on Thursday and walking back to the bus stop when I heard “Kevin!” and looked up to see little Jordan running up the sidewalk towards me.  That may have been the happiest I have been in a long time, and I am a happy person.
     I spent most of last night playing with Jordan.  As we waited on the side of the road for the bus to take us home for the final night we were accompanied by Maria (Marco’s wife), the two youngest daughters, and little Jordan.  Sitting near the road I looked over and saw Jordan in tears.  I asked him what was wrong and strained my ears and brain as much as I could to try and understand his response.  Between his tears and my difficulties with the Spanish language I was unable to make out exactly what he was upset about but I did catch that it was something about his mom.  I brought him in for a big hug and felt his tiny arms wrap around me.  As we let go I caught a glimpse of the tattoo I had just gotten on my arm.  Jordan made me write the same thing on his arm with a pen so that we could be “el mismo” (the same).  There gleaned five words spread over three lines, “Nothing’s gonna change my world.”  Words from one of my favorite Beatles songs and in that moment they became meaningless.  There was a very real possibility that Jordan’s world was about to change in a massive way.  How fragile the world now seemed that in just a few days this 4-year-old may be orphaned.  The salt in the wound is not that I may never see that little guy again, but that I may never know if his mom pulled through.  Now, for the next 70 days, I will walk around with these words on my arm.  At first they seemed almost arrogant, as though I was in total control of my universe, but now they act as a plea.  Don’t break this world, my world, apart.  It seemed the jungle had one last lesson it wanted to teach me.

PS I know I said I would post a video but the internet here is too slow and won't allow it upload.  I will keep trying though.