To beautiful old memories and creating new ones

The platform is teeming with an international crowd of backpackers eager to sit down. The arrival of the train is imminent. We have all grabbed our belongings and stand ready for the race through the doors. They open. We flood into the train and available seats are being swallowed up by the second. My arms nervously squeeze and shove my backpack away while my legs propel my body towards one the last unoccupied seats.

My victorious arrival is cheered on by three beaming smiles. All South Americans used to look similar to me but I can now clearly identify the distinctive Peruvian features of my new travelling companions. They are hiking guides, returning from Machu Picchu just like the rest of us on this train. We communicate lightheartedly, mostly in sign language, until the gentle cradling motion of the train rocks me out of the conservation.

My heavy eyes notice the elegant vintage feel of what appears to be a brand new train. The ripe golden beams of sunset spread throughout the air as I witness, silent and still, the return of the adventurers. Surrounded by a halo of dust, the spirited silhouettes celebrate their conquest around a final grand banquet of beer, sandwiches and crackers. Their melodious laughter merges with the pan flute background music into a universal hymn to the power of nowness.

As the light grows dim, the events of past few days suddenly dawn upon me. I smile as I remember damning myself for putting my unprepared Parisian body through such a painful hike. Humbled, I send out a soothing wave of gratitude across my aching limbs. These experiences were once my future. They were now gradually slipping into my past. How I wished I could have held back time and stayed under the spell just a few minutes longer, blissfully living in the moment, unaware of the looming cliff fall down to reality.

Later that night, I called back home from the hotel reception and as I started to recount my adventures, an unstoppable eruption of emotions poured out of me. A waterfall of salty water came running uncontrollably down my face and I found myself crying out the account of my last few days like a new born baby. The receptionist kindly approached me to offer a white tissue. I wanted to tell her that these were happy tears. That I was exhilaratingly, ridiculously, debilitatingly happy. It would not have made any sense. Instead, I lifted up my shinny red face and let out, through an illuminated smile “Gracias”.