Every day when I walk to the bus I pass a house where an old man sits out on his balcony overlooking the street. He always tries to get my attention. By clearing his throat or making a loud noise or yelling, ‘Good-bye” which I’m sure he thinks means Hello. Today he yelled, “Mona linda” (which basically means beautiful fair-skinned woman), but I still didn’t look. And it’s doubtful I’ll ever look. I’ll keep my eyes well fixed on the path ahead of me. I have found, at least here in Cartagena, that looking at the yelling men only encourages them to yell further.
But, on many levels, I envy that old man. That he has the time, the luxury, the freedom to wake up every morning and enjoy his coffee on the veranda (don’t you think that’s such a lovely word) watching the people hurry past. Not that anyone really hurries here in Cartagena, but you get the point. He sits there, above it all, with all the time in the world.
Some day I want that. I just generally love every type of porch or balcony known to man. Growing up my house had no balconies and only a poor excuse for a porch. So I used to climb onto the roof and imagine the wrap around porch that would someday surround my future home.
Sometimes I think I read too much as a child. And I know I watched too many movies. I used to watch Mary Kate & Ashley Olsen movies over and over again. I wanted their lives. And not just the ones they lived in the movies, but their real lives too. Now I feel sorry for them. Constantly in the spotlight and old news at the ripe age of 23. I wouldn’t mind their money though. But I was a dreamer. Still am. Lanre said the other day, “I hated dreamers before I met you.” His complaint being that they never get things done. But that, as all things, is left up to interpretation.