I am tired. Not physically, but mentally. I am sitting in a cheap motel room in Yuma, it is 6 am and I did not sleep very well. I want to go home. But then, no. I don’t want to go home, I would feel as out of place there right now as I feel out of place here.
The air in here is terrible, it smells of chlorine and stuffy old carpet. But I have a momentary phobia to opening the door, because that would let in all that is out there and I don’t want anything to do with that right now. The bug-bites from the last couple of days are itching and the mirror in here annoys me too, because it shows me that I actually gained weight, even though I paddle for many hours every day. I don’t even want to know what I would look like if I lived in this country… Even though I eat my own food most of the time, there have been quite a few unhealthy meals, or should I say, regular American everyday food? Well it’s all the same. There aren’t many options, at least not while I can’t cook myself. I would love to go to a small organic grocery store and get things that taste good and are healthy, but vegetables and fruit taste like nothing here.
I want to be around my own things, with my friends and family. I don’t want to feel like I have to be somehow for anybody. The kindness of people here is taking a toll, as I want to constantly give back and be nice. But I am tired of understanding everyone’s political points and outrageous ecological and climate-change related “opinions”.
Well, one step at a time, I guess. Step one: I will not stay in this room for another night.It has been good to have a place to close a door, to take a shower, to wash my laundry. But this place is also depressing and I somehow wished for my tent at night.
Step two: Call some friends. Bill and Kate. Someone who can understand me and my sadness about the brutal dead end of the river.
Step three: Acknowledge that the experiences of the last few days have been demanding and that I can and should take time to digest and process all of this. Allow myself to take a brake from this trip and from being around people for a couple of days.
Step four: Find a place that can offer me some more than decent fresh food.
Step five: Make a decision on how to continue and what to do after I reach the sea.
Step six: Probably rent a car, even though that goes against my principles. Just so I can move around, listen to good music, have a little space to myself and not feel so stuck, especially in this hot, dusty and ugly city. It is ruled by roads and consumption. By cars and shopping for more of everything. There are no visible places where people actually live. It is fitting that many cities here dedicate their centers to that, while they live out in the suburbs.
Step seven: Do something about it. One of the worst things was seeing the migrants on the Mexican side of the river, who want to come into this country. Their situation is obviously quite dire. And I can at least find out what they need most, buy some stuff and go over there to give it to them.
And by that time I might feel a little better. I hope so. What I am mostly looking forward to is meeting Jennifer Pitt.
It will feel so good to finally talk to someone who has an idea of the big picture. To sit across from someone with an understanding of nature and a scientific knowledge. I can’t wait to finally be inspired again.