Adiós USA??

Dear future me,

Here I am, in this hotel room near the airport, wondering if tomorrow is going to be the day that an airplane is shipping me to the start of my South America tour: Colombia. Not my bike though, since he is still in his crate on the airport waiting for customs release. So am I, because I want to regain my official documents before I leave the states, but I’m giving up hope. After two weeks of waiting and hanging around in Miami, I’m pretty bored and I don’t dare to look at my bank account anymore. The prices here are so high that at least one thing is flying out and vanishing in the air: my money!

I was very fortunate to have the possibility to stay at the Hair’s house for most part of my stopover in Florida, but since we said our goodbyes (including the parrot, the cats and the cows) I was on my own. After delivering my motorcycle to the warehouse in Miami on his truck, Dennis delivered me to this very nice hostel in Miami Beach. My hero, he road 250 miles to accompany me to make sure everything was fine. I tried to pack him in one of my luggage cases as well, but he wouldn’t budge. Hence, I had to get used to the fact that it was just me, being a backpacker without a motorcycle.

I tried to get into my role of elderly woman who quietly sits gazing at the young ones who are way hipper and trendier than she is. I forgot to bring my high heels, summer dresses and ditto handbags, so that role fitted me pretty good. Sitting on the most gorgeous beach watching manatees swimming by, or lazing at the swimming pool reading my book, walking around for miles and miles to get into shape, visiting the botanic garden and the Holocaust memorial. All stuff to blend in as a regular backpacker and I was mastering this role quite well. Until I met this Brazilian roommate who likes to visit chic hotels and loves to dance. So, she convinced me to join her to listen to some jazz music in this very fancy hotel across the street. At first it was okay, because we were just flies on the wall. There was no jazz though, just drunk rich people having fun and sort of a band that played 3 songs. But as soon as a generous guy invited us to join his group in the ‘reserved area’ of the room, I started to become the focus point of security and basically everybody who was there. Because a giant and natural looking lady (read: grey hear) wearing jeans and a colored shirt is definitely not up to their standards. I think I should have worn my full motorgear, at least then I would have gotten one thing right: wearing black. Now I just felt small and totally out of place, so time to leave the party zone and move into a smaller hostel on the mainland.

This hostel allowed me to visit the bright colors in the Design District and Wynwood. Graffiti walls all over the place and a slightly different type of people hanging around. Nice! My women-only hostel is a pink house in a peaceful neighborhood and a great place to practice some Spanish with all the women coming from Chili, Colombia, Dominican Republic. I am getting more and more excited about going to Colombia and already have the contours of where to go and what to do thanks to suggestions of friends. Ergo, I am ready for it!

But time ticks on and still no word of any customs approval or released documents. I even have to postpone my flight from Wednesday to Friday. Again, I have to move places, which means I’m bullying myself as a donkey to drag my heavy load of luggage from bus to bus in the heat of Miami. I don’t need any exercises anymore; I’m fully trained and tanned. With nothing more to do than waiting around, just one question hangs in the freezing cold of the air-conditioning: To fly or not to fly?

See ya later,

Annemieke