on nostalgia

Yesterday, a long over-due phone call with a friend led me to spend the the night flitting down memory lane; it doesn't take much to lead me down the path of nostalgia.

We once traveled together, she and I, but these days she's been adventuring on her own, and I wanted to hear all about her trip to Zanzibar last month. Much has changes since my own visit--a family vacation seven years ago (of which the twenty-six hour bus ride from Uganda to Tanzania was just the beginning), yet Zanzibar remains at the top of my list of favorite places. 

I remember the calls the prayer over loud speakers at sunrise and sundown; the balanced blend of Arabic, Tanzanian and Indian cultures; the taste of salt in the air just after a rain. I remember consuming grilled fish at the pier and drinking sugar cane juice in the heat of high noon; the coolness of the market in morning; the dense heat of the jungle in the afternoon.

Reflecting on events in the past has a way of giving me peace. As if, remembering the person I once was reveals in my soul a hidden fear that maybe I am not doing this whole "growing up" business very well. But my soul is quickly comforted, for I do not care to be who I was then. Even if she was able travel to Zanzibar and my current self does not. I am content to exist on memories.


Stone Town, Zanzibar | April 2007

Comments

  1. Thanks for the walk down memory lane on this rainy day. Lately, I've been dreaming of picking up and moving to far away places. Perhaps someday. For now, I remind myself that putting down roots is an adventure of a different kind--one with its own joys and challenges. Much love.

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