Sufficient to have stood, though free to fall. I escape down the front steps and hesitate on the sidewalk. Which way should I go? Better to head downtown than towards Avenida Constitucion and Parque Camet. So I cross the eight lanes and turn right on the tiled boardwalk with the parapet and the ocean on my left. A hefty suntanned woman leans on the wall with her shorts almost revealing her ass. I almost miss seeing a skateboarder coming right at me because of the distraction but just avoid getting into a collision. It´s almost hot but for the breeze coming off the water and the sun feels fierce. I stroll easily, not the brisk hunched walk you do along this sidewalk in midwinter.
It was precisely this time of year when I first encountered this city. Twenty eight years now. Early summer 1982. A few short months before the Malvinas - that short little war over The Falklands. I´ve tried to find the hotel I stayed at but I´m unsure if it was on the Peatonal or Luro near the shore. I don´t mention this obsession of mine to Isa anymore. She no longer even finds it funny. I bundle up my nostalgic speculations and instead return to Kabe and the puzzle he presents me. How did I meet him? I can´t exactly remember when ... I think he introduced himself to me. It must have been at Parque Camet. Had I seen him there first? And then we spoke later? He had given me a ride back to our apartment in his VW ... yes ... that must have been it. I assume he recognized me from Parque Camet. I stop suddenly and sit down on the parapet. Something is trying to surface ... some detail. I look down at the tiles ignoring the sea at my shoulders.
He had called me by my last name, Keeley. And I never give out my last name. Not out of any real fear. More a case of the fact that no one really gives a damn. They just want to know where you´re from. I say Canada to keep it simple and rarely speak of my years in Venezuela. Isadora had laughed at my new found laconic prudence. I had tended to blather endlessly at anyone I met till I realized they weren´t curious or interested. So how did Kabe know my last name? I suddenly feel exposed, like when I can´t find my keys and frantically search all my pockets for them. Why hadn´t this detail bothered me before? Had I been so intrigued by this Ethiopian under the eucalyptus trees that when I realized it was him who was adressing me, I forgot to be puzzled by the fact that he used my last name? Maybe I had misheard and had thought he had said ¨kid¨ in an attempt to tease me. Or maybe I was just lonely and delighted he was talking to me. I had been walking along the sidewalk. And he had offered me a ride. So he must have been following me in his car. He knew my name and I have no idea how much more he knows about me. I turn to look at the ocean, hoping it will calm me. It helps a little and I wonder if I´m being paranoid. I certainly have that side, but this feels different. Something vague and out of focus and perhaps dangerous seems to surround Kabe the more I think about it. Who the hell is he?
I stand up and start walking again, trying to clear my head with the movement of my feet. I´m already sweating despite being in shorts ( capris actually ) and a tshirt. Where is all this headed? I turn onto Independencia and keep heading southwest. There´ll be more shade along the left side and perhaps I can sort all this out. The 555 colectivo grinds by and I think I see Greta. That would be a good sign. It means she´s feeling better. I walk on past Libertad towards Luro looking for some logical detail, some reasonable fact to hang my thoughts on. My tshirt is wet under my arms despite the breeze. Where am I going?
It was precisely this time of year when I first encountered this city. Twenty eight years now. Early summer 1982. A few short months before the Malvinas - that short little war over The Falklands. I´ve tried to find the hotel I stayed at but I´m unsure if it was on the Peatonal or Luro near the shore. I don´t mention this obsession of mine to Isa anymore. She no longer even finds it funny. I bundle up my nostalgic speculations and instead return to Kabe and the puzzle he presents me. How did I meet him? I can´t exactly remember when ... I think he introduced himself to me. It must have been at Parque Camet. Had I seen him there first? And then we spoke later? He had given me a ride back to our apartment in his VW ... yes ... that must have been it. I assume he recognized me from Parque Camet. I stop suddenly and sit down on the parapet. Something is trying to surface ... some detail. I look down at the tiles ignoring the sea at my shoulders.
He had called me by my last name, Keeley. And I never give out my last name. Not out of any real fear. More a case of the fact that no one really gives a damn. They just want to know where you´re from. I say Canada to keep it simple and rarely speak of my years in Venezuela. Isadora had laughed at my new found laconic prudence. I had tended to blather endlessly at anyone I met till I realized they weren´t curious or interested. So how did Kabe know my last name? I suddenly feel exposed, like when I can´t find my keys and frantically search all my pockets for them. Why hadn´t this detail bothered me before? Had I been so intrigued by this Ethiopian under the eucalyptus trees that when I realized it was him who was adressing me, I forgot to be puzzled by the fact that he used my last name? Maybe I had misheard and had thought he had said ¨kid¨ in an attempt to tease me. Or maybe I was just lonely and delighted he was talking to me. I had been walking along the sidewalk. And he had offered me a ride. So he must have been following me in his car. He knew my name and I have no idea how much more he knows about me. I turn to look at the ocean, hoping it will calm me. It helps a little and I wonder if I´m being paranoid. I certainly have that side, but this feels different. Something vague and out of focus and perhaps dangerous seems to surround Kabe the more I think about it. Who the hell is he?
I stand up and start walking again, trying to clear my head with the movement of my feet. I´m already sweating despite being in shorts ( capris actually ) and a tshirt. Where is all this headed? I turn onto Independencia and keep heading southwest. There´ll be more shade along the left side and perhaps I can sort all this out. The 555 colectivo grinds by and I think I see Greta. That would be a good sign. It means she´s feeling better. I walk on past Libertad towards Luro looking for some logical detail, some reasonable fact to hang my thoughts on. My tshirt is wet under my arms despite the breeze. Where am I going?
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