So it is here in Cusco, the city with too much to do and enough history for several provinces, the city Walter, “described as the nerd you didn’t know was a freak” remarking on his shock when discovering it was a the party capital of Peru, and not just place people stay before going to Machu Picchu that, I reach this point. The longest amount of time I have spent outside of the States. However, Cusco is a long way from Dominican Republic and my twelve year old self is a distant memory.
When I began to travel I made a decision to try and live as openly as possible, and so far, I believe my behavior has been in keeping with that decision. I have been honest with complete strangers, people who I may never see again. In a way it is liberating. I have also been as honest as possible with this blog. The last post I put up I would have never told my mother. She is, as I’m sure you all can relate, already overprotective and telling her would only result in a worry and never ending pleas to return home immediately. The next day after that bus trip from hell, Walter tried warning me not to tell my mother about it. I found it funny that he thought I needed warning, as we both agreed it would be a terrible idea. However, I am fairly certain my mother reads my blog so if and when she does read that post I will have to deal with her reaction.
But now I have hit a proverbial crossroads. There are certain aspects of my past and present I have kept hidden. It would seem I have a decision to make. Should I be completely honest or remain quite. For that matter, what constitutes being private and not closed off? Though my secrets were not the driving force for my trip they made this somewhat of an escape, a chance to get away and clear my head with no reminders of a not too distant past. But, this is easier said than done. Shame, disappointment, fear of the loss of self-reliance, the list goes on. It is hard to let go and hope everything will be ok that people will understand, still accept you, and forgive.
