The Call of the Open Road

Maybe I should just move to Buenos Aires and stay down there for 6 months – that way I can just use their movers,” I said disgustedly.  All morning I had been trying to find movers – it seemed like none of the companies could come on such short notice.  I was so sick of trying to get everything organized.  As the words left my lips they hung in the air, taking on a life of their own.

 

A looked at me, her eyes wide, “that would be amazing!  You should do it.”

 

“Well,” I thought about it for a moment running through the concrete reasons against going.  “I have a boyfriend, I mean 6 weeks is one thing but going for 6 months?  No, I really should get back…” I finished weakly. 

 

“You’re making plans around your boyfriend.  The same boyfriend who can’t even be bothered to help you move?  Who hasn’t even asked to stay with him while you are moving?  Really?”  With a laugh, she shook her head in disgust.

 

“Well, I guess you’re right.  But I really do want to make this relationship work…”

 

“And you think he’s making an effort?  You think he’d do the same for you?  Just go, you don’t have a job right now, you don’t have kids or a family – go while you can.  How many more chances will you get to do something like this?”

 

Her enthusiasm was infectious.  I felt the seductive tug of adventure pulling at my heart, filling my ears with the call of the open road.  Trying my best to ignore it I clung tenaciously to hold onto some shred of reason.

 

“Whether he would or not, I gave my word I would talk to him about things like this and before I make any decisions I need to talk to a few other people too. I did just write about how brain injury survivors and my advice was to run ideas past friends.  It’s probably a good idea to take my own advice.”  

 

 

The first person I called was my close friend S.   Being one of the most adventurous, knowledgeable, worldly people in my acquaintance she really knows the ins and outs of travel.  In addition to her fun spontaneous side she is extremely pragmatic, has the answer to everything, and gives excellent advice.  I was pretty sure that she would think it was a good ideas and she’d certainly have helpful suggestions.  If, on the other hand, she thought it was a bad idea or too dangerous then I would scrap the idea and just stick to my original trip.  As much as I love adventures safety is a priority.

 

I told her I was thinking of extending my trip to 6 months and moving to Buenos Aires.  “Do you think that this would be a good idea?”

 

“Why Buenos Aires?” she asked.

 

“Well, I have heard that it has a rich literary tradition and is a great place to write.  It is also has a very European feel to it so it would be quite such a culture shock.  It is also supposed to be one of the most beautiful cities in South America.  I can write from anywhere.  I could learn Spanish; learn about another culture, the cost of living was lo

wer…. What do you think?  Do you think that is too dangerous?”

 

“I look at life as a series of experiences.  If you were talking about somewhere in Columbia I would discourage you but from what I understand Buenos Aires is supposed to be reasonably safe.  I think it sounds like a wonderful opportunity….” 

 

I let out a private sigh of relief.  One down, two to go….

 

As soon as we hung up I called my father.  I love and respect him more than anyone in the world.  Though he lives in Kansas and I don’t get to see him on a regular basis, South America is a good deal further than New York.  I was all but sure he would support me but having his blessing is important to me. If he didn’t want me to go then I would put any idea of moving to South America out of my mind without question.

 

My instincts were not off.  The instant I told him he enthusiastically gave his wholehearted support.  He thought it was a wonderful idea and sounded pleased that I was going to study a new language.  I hung up the phone energized and expectant.  Things were moving forward so quickly it was almost as if moving to Buenos Aires had been the plan all along.

 

There was only one left – J.  My roommate rolled her eyes, but I had promised.  He was the dark horse – I really wasn’t sure what he would say.  If he didn’t want me to go, then I would

 respect his wishes – I had given my word.  Heart in my throat I made the call.

 

No answer.  Fantastic, more time to think, and think I did.

 

J and I weren’t particularly close.  Though everything was wonderful when we were together that happened barely twice a month.  Maybe this could be another reason to go.  Missing each other could bring us closer and actually strengthen the relationship. As the saying goes – absence makes the heart grow fonder.

 

When J called back a few hours later I gently asked him what he would think of me extending my trip.

 

“Thank you for asking me,” he sounded pleased and surprised I had thought of him.

 

“Of course – you are my boyfriend,” I said, confused.  “I promised I’d talk to you about things like this.”

 

“Well, if it were further in the relationship I would not like it, but it’s fine right now.  You should go.”

The longer we talked the more I felt that this trip really would be good for the relationship.  We would write talk all the time on skype video chat, he would come visit me - it would be great.  

And with that the decision was made – I was going to South America for 6 months….