Oh yeah, that's why. (Calgary, Canada)

Well after a day of ups and downs, which included going to a doctor again who suggested I may have a viral infection of some sort, getting blood work done (I hate needles), a volunteer job interview for a position working as a gay men's support group facilitator , I ended it with my first cultural diversity workshop in over a year. Ahhh, it was like riding a bike. Felt as comfortable up there as ever. As I listened to some of the comments in the classroom, and as I gave my little inspirational talks, I remembered why I love my job. I needed that as a boost to keep me going for the next while. Nothing beats having a class in front of you, ears perked, eager to be inclusive, eager to make change in this somewhat down trodden world of ours.

Taken Nov. 4 2012 by my coworker and friend, Amanda by the Leighton Art Centre. (Uploaded after the post was written).  

The Plateau (Calgary, Canada)

After a small hiatus, I've decided to just keep going, keep writing.  I think in my head, my mental and emotional brain, I've told myself that my adventure, my journey is over. And is it? Not really, although my new-old life seems to pale in comparison to my 53 weeks of traveling.

Taken in Miami, my last stop before Calgary. 

So where to start? I've been home sick for nearly a full week, but have thankfully gone out a little here and there, even to work. Gee, I've been back to my old job for only 2 weeks and have already had to take two sick days. Strep throat sucks and I think all this seclusion is making me go nutty. Then again, perhaps all this time alone at home is a good thing for me. It's the most I've been at home ever since I've returned to Canada.

Returning home to Canada I knew was going to be rough, I had these expectations already. Living at home with my mother and my brother is something I'm no longer accustomed to, seeing as though I've lived on my own (or with my ex) for the last 12 or so years. I feel somewhat jailed, exiled in the South East of Calgary, haunted by childhood memories as I drive, walk, and run through my neighborhood. I wonder if I'm the only one of my childhood friends that still lives around here. I wonder if I can grab my bike and ride up to their homes, ring the doorbell and ask if they can come out and play. I wouldn't mind it actually. I wouldn't mind a friend that lives close by. But no, the majority of my friends are living inner city, or with their families in their big houses somewhere in the burbs. But not here.

Everything seems so anti-climactic. The dream should have continued on. I should be in Brazil or Africa by now. But no, I am at my old job, in the same position, in the same office, with the same phone number, email, and contacts. Where's the challenge? Where's the adventure? What exactly is the next part of my journey? I feel like I have regressed. I feel like I have awaken from a coma, I wake up and it is simply just a different date on the newspaper heading, everything seems quite familiar but just a bit weary to me.

Where do I go from here? How do I continue to go up? Am I traveling through a plateau?

Oh, and then there's the fact that I'm single. Traveling and being single was cool. Living life in one spot on my own, well that is something I am having to re-adjust to as well.  The gay community in Calgary is small, conservative, and almost non-existent it seems. Okay, I exaggerate a little, but in comparison to big cities like Lima, Bogota, Medellin, Buenos Aires, or even Montreal, Vancouver and Toronto, Calgary is a faint attempt.

Well, let that set the tone for entries to come. Will I go up, will I go down? Or will I just simply continue to plateau?

Last Days (Capurganá, Colombia)

I wrote this on August 5th but never posted it because my homecoming was a surprise. Reading it make me sad...



Well, I've only got 8 days left in South America and I feel sad and remorseful. There is so much more to do here. So many more people meet and experiences to be had. Ironically, I never want to go out and look for them, procrastinator until the very end I suppose.

I remember my last weeks in South East Asia, sitting in a beach in Thailand, relaxing. I was ready to go home. I've said it so many times in the last 4 months or so that I'm ready, but now that the time is near, I have my doubts. I think about what is to come, and I have anxiousness and fear. What will happen to me? What will become of my new life? My independence? My new language?

It has been a challenge these last five weeks, being surrounded by my friends, constantly at my side. Perhaps it's because I've accustomed myself to being alone; one of the goals of this trip. As well, perhaps it's because these friends know the old Dean, and I've had to struggle being two different Deans in front of them. I miss meeting new people and being whomever I want to be. I ask again, what will become of me once I return to my old world filled with old friends, family, and colleagues. I dread the thought.

Me & Emilie taking the plunge in Capurgana. 

Nothing Changes (Calgary, Canada)

What am I going to do for the next month before I go back to work? Did I come home too early? I miss traveling.

Romantic Evening (Capurganá, Colombia)

I just spent a gorgeous evening, on the balcony of my hostel overlooking the Caribbean ocean, listening to the calming waves crash in and out on the shore, while the moon, somewhat softened by the clouds, shone onto the water leaving a glowing reflection. In the background I was accompanied by the likes of Diana Krall, Frank Sinatra, Ray Charles, and Natalie Cole to name a few. And most importantly, I spent it with the person I love the most in this world, myself! I cradled myself almost to sleep in the hammock and thought peaceful things as I swayed back and forth. Sometimes I really love my life and I try to be grateful for these little things that make it so rich. Thank you. Thank you. Thank you.

Northern Tip of South America (Santa Marta, Colombia)

Yesterday, after a two hour boat ride, a one hour jeep ride, a 90 minute car ride, a three hour bus, and a taxi, we arrived back to Santa Marta. We came from Punta Gallinas, the most northern tip of South America, in the deserts Colombia along the carribbean coastline. So many people told us that it's not possible to get there on our own, and that a guided tour is better, but thanks to my friend Emilie, we got there with hardly any problems. We spent two nights in Cabo de la vela and two nights in Punta Gallinas. It was really gorgeous up there, we slept in hammocks three out of the four nights, and saw the stars above us. We reached a sand dune one day and swam in the ocean as once we ran down the billowy piles of almost white sand. It truly was mesmerizing the view from there. Melissa and I sat and reminisced and discussed life, as we once did in India on a mountain in the himalayas. Awww... moments like this want to make me keep travelling forever.

I miss Mike, I wish he was with us on this leg of the adventure. He got along really well with the girls, and we all had such a great time together. Soon Melissa will be returning to Montreal, and it will only be Emilie and myself. This time we will try to make it to the beaches on the farthest point West of Colombia, close to the Panama border, also on the unbeaten path...

Great Balls of Fire! (Santa Marta, Colombia)

So last week Colombia celebrated it's independence day and I had the absolute pleasure of joining my friend Jose to the fesitivies in downtown Santa Marta. He told me that we were going to watch some fireworks and see some cool lights. We arrived early and we waited on a sidewalk corner, sitting and watching the people slowly start to pile into this plaza. At first I was a little bored and skeptical that things would start on time here in Colombia and was even tempted to suggest a different activity. But soon enough, the events started. I saw a group of young Colombians running in one direction, with screams of joy and fright in their voices and I asked Jose what was going on and he nonchalantly told me that it was a ball of fire that they were chasing after.

At first I thought it was an anomaly, and we went to go see the excitement. I then realized that this ball of fire was something they did on purpose and they kicked it around like a soccer ball, into the air, and into the crowds of people... for fun! What ensued was two whole hours of multiple balls being enflamed, thrown and kicked around, while people screamed and ran for their lives!! Jose and I stayed on the sidelines and watched with anticipation and every now and then we'd have to run aways like little school girls, because the flames would be coming our way either by land or by air! All the while there was music bands playing loudly and people dancing in the streets like there was no tomorrow. I got hit twice by these flameballs, once on my leg overtop of my jeans, thankfully, and the next on my arm where my hairs were cinged. I had the mentality that if I stood in one place the chances of me actually getting hit were minimal, clearly I was mistaken. Man, did I scream like a little baby everytime those flames came near, along with everyone else in the crowds. I can only imagine what it would be like if I were in a war, with bombs and guns going off.

I thought to myself that this activity is so dangerous, and there were so many young children around that this couldn't be happening. How can parents allow their kids to play with fire like this? Where's the police? Where's the firemen? But as time passed, and I screamed louder and louder, and my heart beat rapidly as Jose and I ran up and down the streets, I realized how much fun this rare event truly was! Better than a rollercoaster ride at disneyland I suppose! Two full hours I'll say once again, of flames, music, fireworks, and pure anxiety and rip roaring hoo-hahs!!