Voyassitude

An Air France flight attendant. Or a bartender in Trastevere. Perhaps a cute dog in Edinburgh resembling Greyfriars Bobby, whose statue you visited to touch its nose hoping to get some good luck. Or maybe just those tapas you tried somewhere in Barcelona at midnight on a buzzing street. If you’ve ever traveled before then surely you have loved someone or something, from an idyllic Japanese sunset to that sexy Algerian flirting with you at the disco or the coffee lemonade you drank in Medellín. There is something worrying about you if you haven’t felt such an emotion while on a trip. After all, escaping to a place you have never visited grants you the chance to meet love and all of its friends.

Paris, 2018
Sometimes the City of Light offers you ten museums and thirty cafés in sight but not one public restroom, which is why I ended up going into a random bar looking for a toilet only to discover some sort of dungeon where a band was playing live. Amazed by the crowd, the cozy, eccentric scenario, and the great music with its reverberation throughout the stone walls, I stayed there enjoying a fantastic fusion of jazz and rock.
Shortly after, a couple of girls joined the audience. They sat opposite me and that’s when one of them exchanged the first of many glances with me. She had short, hazelnut hair, pale skin, and a summer dress reaching her knees. The music was superb and the cave enchanting, but it all became about her. She and her friend would whisper on occasion, but for the most part she looked at the band and at me; just surreptitiously, same as I was doing, though the place was small so it was easy to catch each other’s eyes. I fell into a trance thanks to her legs, swaying harmoniously to the rhythm of the instruments. Their subtle yet hypnotic sequence was irresistible, synced as they were to the sax and guitars, music and legs combining to bewitch me on my second full night in Paris.
Unfortunately, I had to leave early due to the metro station closing soon. As I was paying for my drinks I requested one glass of rosé wine and asked for it to be delivered to the girl. If the waitress found this strange or humorous she didn’t show any signs of it, and so I left, full grin into the night of a dying spring in the heart of the Latin Quarter. I kept hoping to stumble upon her at Notre-Dame or Champ de Mars, my fleeting crush for her making me feel almost as lucky as Gil in Midnight in Paris.

•••

Yes, it sounds very cliché, but love is indeed in the air, and on the road, once you’ve packed your suitcases and left everything behind to chase a new destination. You’ll get a stamp on your passport and maybe a mark on your heart thanks to that person you met at the hostel or the view from the beach you went to on the first day of your trip. There is an indescribable energy around us or, rather, within us, the moment we start an adventure; it is so vast and powerful that it takes over us sometimes, subjugating our will and leaving us exposed to the charm of the people, places, and experiences that cross our way. That’s how a simple pub crawl might lead to a serious case of infatuation.

London, 2021
It all started with the Irish gang. These lovely, silly bastards that adopted me the moment they asked if I was by myself (yes,) if I was gay (nope,) and if I was ready to party (hell yeah!)
I was experiencing my very first pub crawl, full of awkwardness at the prospect of going from bar to bar with a bunch of strangers in the overwhelming Soho area. But by the time we hit the third pub, I was already having the best of times.
Then the night became infinite the moment I felt the mystical glow of her eyes. They were thunderous, effervescent, as bright and alive as London itself. You’d have to be a madman or an idiot to trespass the green fortress imposed by those eyes. And, helped by a mojito, I was both. I asked her if she was having fun, to which she answered that this wasn’t really her thing, it was her friend who wanted to do the pub crawl; they were visiting from Dublin. Of course that fiery green gaze belonged to the Irish wilderness. We conquered a corner far from the dance floor to share London tips or Dublin memories, the club vanishing and feeling unreal, made up because she was my only certainty.
There was something about the way she attempted to go unnoticed despite her blazing uniqueness. Golden cascades of hair raining on her bare shoulders, the silver glimmer of her skin, that intricate cadence of her laughter chasing me hours and days later after we lost sight of each other during the late-night chaos resulting from the walk to the next pub. I was devastated. After London was over any remote vision of green and gold made me turn my head hoping she’d be there, a Celtic goddess materialized out of thin air. Only after some weeks and a few writings to canalize my frustration at not asking for her contact did my infatuation recede.

•••

Some people say that when you travel you’re at your best, so you don’t see, you admire; you don’t taste, you savor and relish; instead of missing you’re longing with every fiber of your being; and yes, you don’t simply like something or someone, you love it, you love them. Your senses are heightened, tuned to capture exotic flavors and remote sounds you’re not familiar with. Nothing ever happens on your daily commute, yet the instant you step onto the Tube or the New York Subway there is that special someone that sends an electric wave down your spine (though a crazy homeless or gigantic rat are possible too and you might not love those.) To travel is to live, and to live is to love even if it breaks your heart on a far-away island or the plane coming back home.

Auckland, 2023
Most of what I had to say about her I said it already in this post, so there’s no need to revisit that. It took me a good portion of 2023 to get over her and I’d rather not fall down that rabbit hole again. Let’s just say that when there’s a time zone difference of eighteen hours between your home and the tiny nation you’re visiting in the middle of the Pacific Ocean, you feel like you’ve reached the farthest limits of Earth. And when every tree, fleeting breeze, and raindrop come fully alive wherever you go, magic is bound to happen. Well, she was the magic in Auckland.
I wanted to be on my own. The views from the tour were breathtaking and the music I listened to brought me bliss. There was nothing else I could’ve asked for. But she happened to be there, eclipsing all around her with those magnetic eyes. Who knew that love was one rainforest hike and an evening coffee away? And nothing even happened between us beyond the conversations or pictures to remember a casual encounter. She had someone already while I had that trip and my phone to play me some special music. But the allure of that island blended with her to bypass any shields I could’ve had in place. Not even a Heart of Stone stood a chance.
Did I fall in love with her? I don’t think that’s possible when you’ve met someone for only a few hours. But did I love her? Well…

•••

Here’s the thing: unless you’re a heartless, querulous prick, chances are you’re going to have the time of your life seeking the thrill and euphoria offered by a new voyage. So, while you’re at it, go and search for some love as well! Because when that happens, this is more or less what you love:
You love a pistachio gelato in Piazza Navona and you love the crunchy autumn leaves near Niagara Falls; you love the voice of a Dublin street performer and Madrid’s violet night sky in the summer. You love arroz con coco in Cartagena, the untamed hair of a French girl who becomes one of your best friends, the four a.m. murmur of the Seine River, the five o’clock airport rush as you walk to the boarding gate, the six in the morning bird sounds in Carmen de Apicalá. You passionately love that Zürich violinist, the muteness in the midst of Central Park, an iced coffee right by Cardiff Castle, and the bike tour to Buckingham Palace; the French accent, the Spanish joy, the Colombian warmth, the American… never mind. You love walking twenty kilometers a day, and maybe running as well when you’re late to a theater show; you love that theater show, and a concert in a foreign city, and the person who sang at the concert next to you for two straight hours. You love wandering, getting lost, looking at the same moon you see from your backyard but from a remote location you never dreamed of visiting; you love dancing with strangers, laughing with hosts, chatting with tour guides. You love fucking and you might even love getting fucked by an arrogant waitress charging you for a drink you never asked for.

All in all, you love love itself and the beautiful mess it can be, so go out and fall for someone or something from time to time. Loving is free after all. Traveling isn’t, but it can’t all be good and easy, right?