Memoirs Of A Gug

There is 1 main reason that explains why people would go to the San Blas Islands and share a moment with the Guna People: Connection. Yes, a trip to this archipelago is a trip to an utopian space of white sand and blue seas, where connection with others and with oneself is inevitable. It is the perfect getaway, where city life’s stresses are left behind.

Although this reason wasn’t very clear during the several hours of driving, nor everytime we bounced on uncushioned seats through uncharted roads, and certainly not at the moment we got stopped by the Guna police for a passport review, it did became crystal clear just as the sea that would shortly surround us when the wind started hitting our face, and the sound of the motor of the cayucos (boats) was turned on. So clear... everybody just silenced to enjoy the moment.

In the islands, girls and boys were separated, creating the perfect spaces where girls could talk about anything, boys could be silly and where both groups could gather to enjoy the company of the rest and connect in many levels. It started as soon as the time to shower was up and pairs needed to be matched to help each other rinse with the little bowls made from a halved coconut. It grew when we were transported to near islands and moved in little groups to buy molas (local clothing). It was reminded everytime we sat to the table of 10 and laughed endlessly. It became strong when some of us made a volleyball team and were defeated by the Gunas. It became transcendental when the chief of the island in his hammock asked us to surround him and listen to the history and beliefs of the Gunas. It became deeper when we went snorkeling. It became trustworthy when Gastón accepted to be buried in the sand. It became warm around the fireplace we once built to tell horror stories. It became harmonious when Alex and I woke up and started singing the same song. And it became loud when the Gunas presented their dance and some of us joined them with panpipes and maracas. Yes the Guna Island trip was all about connection. And did we ever!

It was at night when I had the time to identify what really matter through the day, so I would sneak out my room and sit by the wooden floor, where we used to take the cayucos, and in total dark, write about how incomprehensibly happy I was, how strongly I didn't want that moment to end or rather how convicted I was to make moments like this happen again and again throughout my life.