inwardsun.outwardsmile

It is Christmas Day. I lit candles in my room. Outside, the chimes play familiar lullabies. Finally, I dare to feel.

Oh, how comfortable is this bed! How clean are not these sheets? How lovely they smell…and how silky they caress my skin. My room, in my 100 square meters flat, in the beautiful area with jasmine blossom outside my window. The view of the Mountain from my living room.

How lucky am I, to have all this and more! To have hot water, all the food I can eat, clean clothes and not only that, stuff spread out all over, matching scarves and silly hats, as if I’ve entered the-world’s-most-pointless-accessory-contest.

Going to Mozambique was a real eye-opener. The ship set sail and headed north along the coast. And what a journey it was.

Through tropic landscapes we travelled, on local buses so crammed with people, chickens, eggs and babies, we could barely breathe. And when we did gasp for air, it came with a scent of sweat and dirty clothes. Not to say that we were any cleaner. But the boy sitting in my lap for 10 hours without a break, didn’t complain, so neither did I. We just closed our eyes and bumped along, occasionally sliding down to the floor we would readjust or share a sip of water.

We only stayed one night in Maputo on the way up and another on the way back. The city is very dirty and damaged from the war. The minute we got off the first bus the taxi drivers were pulling our backpack, literally fighting over it, until we had to shout “it is our bag, let go of the f**ing bag”. By now, we understood, in this poor country, a white man’s face is always tainted with the signs of his dinero.

Tofo wasn’t the paradise we had hoped for, but it was amazing to swim in a warm ocean again. And the night sky made it all worth while. And the late night drumming sessions with the 11 guys pub crawl crew. After a few days of hanging around the bungalow, eating cheap spaghetti with garlic and cashew nuts, watching boring South African couples we decided it was time to leave this place behind. We looked at a map and pointed out the nearest city, Vilankulos. In the morning, we took a ferry and another bus for 6 hours.

There, in a backpacker’s dorms, with damp towels, dodgy mosquito nets, more pasta and soup de jour, endless rain, losing my flip flops and getting mugged (long story) it was still better than Tofo, we thought. And in between our moments of complete energy loss, we looked at each other and smiled.

The days mostly revolved around conversations about life, the exchange of travelling stories with other people, insights, lists on things to do before we die, reading and writing. And of course, a trip out to one of the islands. There, we got our glimpse of paradise and our only day of sunshine. And I ate the best crabfish of my life.

We realized how small the pleasures are in life. A good espresso when you are really tired. A massage when you are sore. A bed that isn’t full of sand. And we remembered our true purpose of the trip.

The night before we left I got to swim in a glowing ocean under the stars. The scientific explanation has to do with the plankton in the water reacting to body heat, but my theory is that a glimpse of magic takes place. My hands were swirling in the water, leaving traces of glitter on my skin, tiny sparkles that flew up when I threw my body into a wave. After all the travelling and the weary bus rides, I was bathing in pure energy. I never wanted it to end, but I had another bus to catch. That night there was glitter behind my closed eye lids as we travelled back to Cape Town.

We arrived late on the 23 December. In Sweden it’s all about the 24th so to wake up sick with nausea, fever and stomach problems on Christmas Eve is not so much fun. I slept away the entire day, with the exception of getting up to eat boiled rice that Lorena prepared for me or unwrap the gifts that Sophie so kindly gave me (I swear I saw angels that day).

And talk to my loved ones back home. My brother connected a call with my grandmother so we could speak all three of us. It brought tears to my eyes. Mom told me everything that was on the Christmas table and dad was in good spirit and sent his greetings to our mutual friends here in Cape Town. My sister’s voice was somehow more mature. A reminder that life is still proceeding at home.

I try not to think too much about my family right now, or my friends, because to be honest, I am afraid of what these feeling will do to me in this state I’m in.

I’d rather appreciate everything as it is and send out a silent THANK YOU to the universe, for this Christmas I truly value what I’ve got.