Living la Vida Loca

It was about 1am in Paracas and I was having beers and sharing laughs with fellow travellers. A couple of them were Australian, one was from Panama and the last was Peruvian. The Peruvian told us about a drug people (mostly of Caucasian descent) travelled to Peru for. It was supposed to be some kind of spiritual experience where many people woke up naked, on the beach and covered in their own shit. It apparently costs a lot of money for that experience but I most likely wouldn’t do it even if it was free.

In Barcelona, however, I got poisoned. I mean, I felt poisoned. Here’s how that day went:

I had no phone and was staying on a stranger’s couch for a couple of days to save money. The guy was Italian and he had a Mexican buddy and a Spanish lover. In the morning, he fed me a shot of something (I know, I should have asked what it was) with milk. I am lactose intolerant but whatever. And then we went about our day. I watched him and his buddy spray paint in the park, went thrift shopping and bought a faulty film camera, ate a lot, and then headed home. The Mexican guy tried to sneak a kiss but he was too shy to ask directly and so I played dumb. We went on the roof to chat and then the Italian host brought out MDMA. Commonly known as ecstasy, this drug is known to heighten pleasure, increase energy, and basically alter sensations. It was easy to take and so I went on a walk with the Mexican after.

We got some nachos (lol, ironic) and tried to speak to each other for an hour. He spoke only Spanish and my Spanish wasn’t that great. I can understand the language almost perfectly but it takes me a while to construct sentences. Not the sexiest position to be in. Anyway, he took me home while I basked in the effects of the drugs. The colours on the streets of Barcelona jumped out at me as we walked home. It had rained a bit earlier and so the wet streets perfectly mirrored the traffic lights and shop signs. I don’t think I will ever get that image out of my mind. It was really a perfect night.

At the apartment, the Mexican guy looked at me and smiled. I knew he wanted to kiss me but let’s be honest, his inability to just asked was quite the turnoff. I hugged him good night and went to bed. It was my last night in Barcelona.

In the middle of the night, I jumped out of bed sweating. I felt the worst pain of my life in my abdomen and I was alone. I had no phone and there was no wifi to connect to my laptop. I had told my parents I was in France writing and no one knew I was in Barcelona. I thought I was going to die alone. I think that is the most afraid I have ever been in my life. I hadn’t prayed a lot before then but I did at that moment.

Anyway, the pain passed and I fell back to sleep. In the morning, I packed my bags and bid adieu. Valencia was my next stop.

I wrote this post for the people like me who love risk and embrace carelessness. I might have had the last night of my life in a city that didn’t quite take my breath away but I didn’t. Did I keep up with my carelessness? Yeah. Will I ever stop? Nah.

mille baisers,

Maame.

 

 

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