The hole

by Carolina Amaral (Brazil)

I didn't expect to find Brazil

To me, nothing is more sacred than travelling. So it was a dream come true: I was going on a long business trip. It would be two months, eight countries in two continents. My eyes sparkled with pure joy when I was given this opportunity. I just adore everything about travelling: planning it, going on a plane, being in a place for the first time, discovering its hidden magic or only where I can have a coffee and write some impressions of this new crazy awesome landscape and everything within it. The best thoughts come while I am travelling and I make room for writing. I can look at things differently, nothing is taken for granted, I always have to discover them because I began to think differently. And I was finally going to be paid to do that. I was producing a low budget documentary TV series and our crew would interview people from all over the world. I was doing the best work I could have done in a lifetime and suddenly I realized a business trip can mean working 24/7. I worked really hard but it seemed it was not enough. I never thought that the best I could do would be not enough. I was in Germany, Netherlands, Portugal, New York, Mexico City and Athens, but I was never in those places. I was getting close to a giant hole. A hole that sometimes appears and I feel myself struggling to come out of it. I am positive, I have faith, I believe people will give me their best, so I give my best to everybody. And that is what makes travelling so great: I have many opportunities to interact with people and give them the best and receive everything back. But I also carry this hole inside that is usually closed and calm, but can come out on extreme moments like an invisible downwards vulcano. I could never imagine it would open in my dream work trip. I tried focusing on things that matter like eating with great pleasure, discovering if there were any birds and how their singing was, or even, how it feels to go outside and look at the sun with my eyes shut. I got up every morning searching the laughs inside of me until the day was over. Then, six weeks have passed. It was late January and I was in San Francisco, the first warm place I was visiting in weeks. It was my day off and I was excited to be there. San Francisco was one of my favorite places, even if I had not known it yet. But I was not in San Francisco, I was in my hole of sadness and frustration. Completely. I could not stop crying, but I forced myself to go out of the bedroom. I had breakfast at the nearest cafe, but luckily it had a nice backyard. I was there waiting for my food and I wrote about being in the hole: “everyone’s sadness is different, mine is like this; it is not something I am feeling now, it is more like I am reliving a pain that I don’t know where comes from”. Suddenly, I stopped writing. The sun came on my notebook and I lifted my face. I stood there just feeling for some minutes. I was back in San Francisco. I discovered which train to take and where I would like to go. I walked by and got happily lost. I was taking pictures. I was recognizing places I've never been, I was looking at the Bay and listening to some saxophonist playing Wave; I felt home. Not because I was listening to a Brazilian song but because I was enjoying travelling again. It felt like me. My big tropical eager desire to know new places. San Francisco was there and there was me, living every second again. Reinventing myself constantly. That is what travelling is about and it is sort of a sacred experience. I didn’t expect to find my biggest fear on that trip, but I knew I could heal myself through the power of travelling. And I did.