I was sitting on a bench, reading the novel House of Spirits by Isabel Allende. The vivid descriptions of post WWI Chile gave life to the dry political and economic history I had been reading, and I was completely immersed. My revere was broken as the sound of accordion and strings, the unmistakable sound of the tango, burst from from a tinny boom box a few feet away. I looked up to see a stunningly gorgeous couple begin to dance.
I had started my day with my spirits low. After a burst of activity and meeting people when I first got to Valpo, that momentum has been lagging. I often feel like an outsider and the place where i´m staying, in large part because so often I can´t understand what people are saying, especially when its a big group of old friend talking fast and joking around. Though I keep hearing of interesting social projects, I have not yet find something to get involved in, so I end up with more free time that I would like. On top of that, I dearly miss my baby, who will be arriving in Santiago very soon, but never soon enough.
So as I watched dance after incredibly beautiful dance and happily threw few coins into the old derby they passed around, I was grateful for a reminder of why I travel.
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