In a Leonard Cohen mood again. <3
Sometimes I think about that time when I had recently returned from Santiago, Chile, refreshed from the warmth of their summer in the dead of our winter, and I casually mentioned it to a Chilean acquaintance (who didn't realize I am a geography encyclopedia and Latina). She barked, 'Chile is a long country! It's not all warm!' as if I didn't know that. She also assumed I am white based on complexion alone, which is only partially true, I am mixed race. I never told her. I let her remain ignorant in her bitter assumptions.
I was so stunned by her rageful assumption that I can't grasp basic elementary level geography, that I never replied. So to this day she probably still believes I don't know that Chile is a long narrow country with climates ranging from desert to glaciers. All because she didn't listen when I said "Santiago."
I didn't fly 5,935 miles in the middle of the northern hemisphere's winter to sit on a freezing ass glacier, my friend.
I have a masters degree in research. She dropped out of school to be a stoner. I definitely felt her frustration. I just wasn't sure why she took it out on me. Transference?
My travel buddy (also Latina) and I had painstakingly researched a thorough list of the warmest winter temperatures of every city on earth, and of that list, we both agreed that Santiago checked all the boxes. We rented a small modest room with a Chilean family, strolled every museum, toured Pablo Neruda's house, and explored each and every neighborhood. I made friends with a Chilean harpist in a mountain village against the dramatic backdrop of the Andes swathed in magical fog, and was enchanted by different species of flora and fauna, the only time I've ever been stumped not being able to guess the genus and species of every plant I see. Refreshing!
If I ever again have the privilege to explore beyond borders, I will keep my happiness to myself, and not share these secret little joys with anyone. I will delight in the sun's healing rays and not tell a soul about my positive experience. Because sadly I keep learning that whenever I feel good about anything, some insecure malcontent inevitably reacts with hostility, as if my efforts of self-education are somehow a threat to their self image. I have learned in recent years to complain, as a buffer of protection against those who assume the grass is always greener wherever I stand, instead of watering their own grass.
So instead of talking about singing birds in blossoming trees, I'll instead share how Chilean singer Violeta Parra's "La Jardinera" always makes me cry, because I am the daughter of gardeners, and the indigenous granddaughter of generations of cultivators of coffee and tobacco in the jungles near the equator, and so I do the only thing I know how to do for my pain, I use the gift of herbal wisdom they gave me, I drink lemon balm, rose, saffron, as medicine for a world that breaks my heart again and again.
Para olvidarme de ti
Voy a cultivar la tierra
En ella espero encontrar
Remedio para mi pena
Aquí plantaré el rosal
De las espinas más gruesas
Tendré lista la corona
Para cuando en mí te mueras
Para mi tristeza, violeta azul
Clavelina roja pa mi pasión
Y para saber si me corresponde
Deshojo un blanco manzanillón
Si me quiere mucho, poquito o nada
Tranquilo queda mi corazón
Cogollo de toronjil
Cuando me aumenten las penas
Las flores de mi jardín
Han de ser mis enfermeras
Y si acaso yo me ausento
Antes que tú arrepientas
Heredarás estas flores
Ven a curarte con ellas
Para mi tristeza violeta azul
Clavelina roja pa mi pasión
Y para saber si me corresponde
Deshojo un blanco manzanillón
Si me quiere mucho, poquito o nada
Tranquilo queda mi corazón
It's better in Spanish and the melody really brings the mood but here's my translation:
In order to forget you
I will cultivate the soil.
In it I hope to find
medicine for my sorrow.
Here I'll plant the rose bush
with the thickest thorns,
I will have the wreath ready
for the moment you die within me.
For my sadness, a blue violet,
For my passion, a small red carnation,
and in order to know if you love me back
I pick the petals of a white chamomile
Whether you love me, or love me not,
my heart remains calm.
Little by little, the happy flowers will grow
and when they finally bloom,
memories of you will fly away.
I will be the best friend
of the poppy flower,
I put it under my pillow
to sleep peacefully.
For my sadness, a blue violet,
For my passion, a small red carnation,
and in order to know if you love me back
I pick the petals of a white chamomile
Whether you love me, or love me not,
my heart remains calm.
A sprout of lemon balm
when my sorrows increase,
the flowers of my garden
will be my nurses.
And if I'm no longer here
by the time you feel regret,
you will inherit these flowers.
Come, and cure yourself with them.
For my sadness, a blue violet,
For my passion, a small red carnation,
and in order to know if you love me back
I pick the petals of a white chamomile
Whether you love me, or love me not,
my heart remains calm.
8:21 a.m. - 2022-11-05