Maybe you don’t know it because I have never mentioned it, mainly because I don’t like to boast at all, but I am rich. Extraordinarily RICH. Imagine one of those fairy tales in which someone, usually called Jack, finds a treasure chest, with a never-ending amount of gold and jewels, and no matter how many things he takes out of it, once he’s finished, the amount inside is always the same. Heaped full.
That treasure chest is much better than that useless magic lamp with a genius in that only grants you three wishes. I hope you’ve already understood what kind of treasure chest we’re talking about.
Imagine the feeling of having one of these with you. Every time you open it, and try to get something out of it, every single time, you get something amazing, spectacular, and what is more, you are certain that it will be there forever with you and always full of splendid surprises.
Since I suppose that by now you understand what kind of wealth I’m referring to, and bearing in mind that I do not like to boast, I’ll tell you another little secret: I don’t have one of those chests, but three.
Being the human being so forgetful, sometimes, not very often, but sometimes, you don’t realize what you have inside your three chests, and only look at the gloomy side of life. How many things I have to do to protect them, how heavy they are when I don’t feel like carrying them, how noisy they are and how they squeak when I cannot close the lid, and how brightly they shine some nights when, as if by magic, they open up by themselves, one after the other, and I think that they do it just to interrupt my good night’s rest.
Due to this, once a year I have a trip with my partner (the one who found and shares the three chests with me) as an escape, leaving our fortune safe and sound. Or maybe it is not as a result, because we’ve been doing it since before we were awfully wealthy. Perhaps these kinds of journeys are our way of finding the treasures…Be that as it may, it is a very healthy and recommendable habit.
Anyway, the curious thing is that, even though you’re looking forward to beginning the trip from the moment you start planning it, the day you have to depart, you get cold feet, and you have to fight a little to carry on (and to hide that sour feeling from everyone but from my “mind-reader travel-companion”) and set off.
And it is not that the experiences and adventures during the escape aren’t unique as well as necessary, but before too long, the background sensation of what-am-I-doing-so-far-and for-so-long, leads me to shorten the week’s stay in Paradise.
Don’t think that our early return is due to the fact that we’re not in a place of extreme beauty, delight and happiness. We’re talking about Paradise.
Paradise is not necessarily French champaign, fresh fruit with chocolate and rose petals on the bed, although, I reckon it might help. Paradise, for me, is something like this:
To buy some time.
No thinking, no planning, just empty your mind.
To eat when you’re hungry. To sleep when you’re sleepy.
No unnatural things like shavers, high heels or TV.
Water, water, water. Water all around.
Drinking and swimming,
hot baths, and love streaming.
Reading great hungry chunks
until you realize your back hurts.
Smelling nature. Smells from the seas and trees.
Listen to the silence, noticing that you breathe.
Paradise is all this.
Alone if you fancy,
or with the one you love
(if the one exists).
A trip to Paradise
Paradise can be near or far, or simply where you are.
Have you stopped to think that, in spite of everything, this could be the best period of your life?