Honesty Time

How do I write this entry? I don’t want to sound like an insensitive wanker (am I allowed to use that word in the blog?) but I want to draw a parallel between us, you the reader, and me, the writer.

 

I started really putting entries here in the blog about the time we departed Oz. My goals to write were; and still are, divided between 3 trash cans. The chance to record for my own prosperity (and I use that word in a completely non-financial sense), the opportunity to share my experiences with those of you bored enough to read, and to form the basis for a possible literary endeavor (prosperity in the capitalistic way).

 

But every now and then I need to indulge in a touch of verboseness which taps a nerve a little closer to home than the occasional funny anecdote.

Carlie and the bike are arriving here in Lima in two days time. In fact Carlie will get on a plane in about 3 hours from now while my bike has taken nearly 3 months to catch up with us. And lo and behold, the gods (Buddha/Allah/a squirrel up a tree – take your pick) has manipulated the perfect storm, both arriving on the same day. My marriage vowels (and most of me) are betting on my wife’s arrive as the harbinger. However, a guy can’t be a guy, without getting excited at the reunion with one’s machine. Long story short, I am excited.

Now I say this like it’s a new thing …. And it kind of is. I don’t run around like a head-less chicken 2 weeks out of an international flight, never have. To be brutally honest, and this is where the you vs me comes into it, I haven’t been overwhelmed, no ‘wow, this is so cool’ kind of moments so far. But I should have.  I know. And you have for me. Again, I know. Thanks. But now, sitting here, completely lost somewhere in a locals run-down, you-can-have-what-I-serve-you-and-you-will-like-it (or-at-least-pay-for-it) restaurant in Lima with the imminent arrivals, it all kind of feels a bit more real than it did! 

OK, score 10 points for ’belated’.

I have spent the day pounding the cracked, hot, sweaty pavements of Lima trying to locate my shipping agent, find 3 ATMs willing to spit out more than my daily allowance will allow, find this mystical being called ‘mandatory motorcycle insurance’ and a hostel closer to the port and airport to save my somewhat tried feet.

Then I stop and the full impact of the above couple of paragraphs smack me over the head like a 3 Stooges skit. And here I was thinking my life was more like a Benny Hill half hour……

…. until next time, with my wife and bike.... (in that order……., she’s going to read this!)

Marco.