In the world
Just as everything was seeming to fall into harmonious rhythm, I dropped my phone.
I picked it up fearing a broken screen only to find it was undamaged, however, it would not turn on.
I could feel the phone was still active, the vibrations and sounds indicated that, but something had come loose and the screen wouldn’t light up.
Fuck.
Ordinarily, this wouldn’t bother me too much. But ordinarily I have more money in the bank and less expenses to consider.
Technology is a pain in the ass, or more so the dependence of it.
When I lost my phone in Spain I wasn’t bothered too much, I took it as a sign to go phone-less for a while.
The 2 months like that were nice.
Obviously it came with extra challenges, but the feeling of being more in the world and less on the screen was welcomed warmly.
When I got to Mexico I decided it was time to plug back in, so I got this phone second hand on market place.
$500 AUD.
An unwelcome pinch to my pennies.
I’d have happily done this journey without phone, laptop or microphones… it would have been less to carry and worry about for sure.
A journey like that has more surprises and less stress, or maybe just other surprises and different stress.
Let’s just say it would be a little more carefree.
Leaving my bag by a tree as I wonder off is something I will not do while I carry such precious and expensive possessions.
The THULE laptop cover I got to protect my laptop has an engineering fault and when I thought it was safely packed away, it was actually damaging the screen.
That happened in Morocco, and now everything I do on the laptop is on the 3/4 of undamaged screen space.
Sometimes I need to guess where to click, but other than that I am getting by - repairing it can wait, and anyway, Apple stores in Mexico are hard to find.
I’ve been meaning to email THULE to see if they can pay for it. Fingers crossed on that one.
The Apple Care insurance policy would have covered it, but when I replaced a lost bank card, I didn’t realise the payments stopped going through, so the plan was terminated.
Now, with the phone screen…
The nearest repair place is in Pochutla, the big town 30 minutes inland from Zipolite.
Living the quiet beach life makes a trip to Pochutla quite a mission - especially with the heat of the day.
2 days ago I went out there for phone repairs, they did a quick fix, I came home, and that night the phone screen went bezerk while I was holding it, before turning off again.
They told me this might happen, but I wanted to risk it instead of paying for the more expensive option.
Yesterday I went back in to get the expensive option.
When I first arrived in town I went to the ATM but it didn’t work.
I stopped a lady and her daughter on the street to ask where the other ATM’s were. She spoke no English, so using my very basic Spanish accompanied with my shy smiles and her amusement, she helped me find my way.
After I got my money, I went to the repair shop.
They took my phone and told me to come back in 2 hours, so I explored the town a little.
I found a nice street taco spot and treated myself to 8 tacos.
I found some horchata, and drank down the refreshing, cold goodness while I walked around the markets.
I discovered a quiet carnival in the town square, where all the rides were inactive and the people operating them were taking siestas in the shade the rides created. They reminded me of shepherds, sleeping by their flock of sheep.
I used their flocks shade too, while I juggled to kill some time and practice my new hobby.
After a while, I did my best to ask a shoe shiner for the time.
“Tiene tiempo” I asked as I pointed a finger to my empty wrist.
He told me the time, I still had half an hour to kill.
My walking legs led me aimlessly through the winding streets, and eventually to a big church.
I like churches. They are quiet, cool and still.
I entered, the church was empty except for a woman sitting in prayer close to the front.
I didn’t want to disturb her prayers, so I walked up the aisle a little and chose a bench near the back.
The woman was with a little girl, likely her daughter.
The girl said something, and the woman turned and smiled at me as I sat down.
I wondered what the girl had said.
The woman turned back to her prayers and I sat in silent appreciation of the stillness.
I looked around the church, trying to guess what the Spanish words painted across the walls meant.
Moments like these are common in a life with no phone.
Obviously we can choose to have these moments, but the option of either being on the phone instead, or involving the phone in the moment is always tempting.
When there is no option other than being in the world, we find ourselves in all sorts of church-like experiences.
I sat for a while.
Eventually I noticed the woman getting up.
She walked further to the front, and cut through the row of seats to the right side of the church, where she did the sign of the cross to something I could not see from my position.
Must have been a statue of Jesus, I thought.
Good old Jesus.
People love that dude.
Must’a been a legend.
—
[ PAUSE ]
Woah, while I sit and write this, a woman I have noticed around Zipolite walked past. We got talking and she told me she recognises me from Esoteric Festival some years ago.
“You were typing people poems” she told me.
An Israeli woman named Sivan.
It’s particularly interesting because over the past few days seeing her, something felt familiar but I couldn’t figure it out. I’ve wanted to talk to her.
Apparently I didn’t write her a poem, she just observed me, so we hadn’t met, but perhaps my subconscious remembered her from the periphery, or I observed her too.
—
[ Back to the story ]
I watched the woman sign the cross as her daughter who was clearly bored of the church climbed on the wooden railings.
They then both walked towards the exit, which was behind me, and as she neared closer, watched me with a smile.
I smiled back.
When the woman reached my row she stopped and asked me something in Spanish.
It caught me off guard, and I didn’t hear a word of what she said.
“Que”? I asked her
She repeated the sentence.
The only word I recognised was “banco”…
Banco… What is that I thought as I tried to piece it together…
Banco is bank…
Bank!
Oh! It is the woman who directed me towards the ATM.
“Ohhh I didn’t recognise you” I said, and then in Spanish attempted to tell her I found the ATM, and thanked her for the directions.
She sat down, that amusement I witnessed earlier once again painted across her face.
Her daughter climbed on the seats as we smiled at each other.
She was very present, and fearless in her interaction.
I felt safe too, and was able to hold her gaze.
She spoke in Spanish to me, asking me a question.
Before I attempted to answer, I let her know that “Mi espanol es moy poco” to set the tone of our conversation.
She slowed her speech down and asked me how long I had been in Pochutla.
I explained I am living in Zipolite, but I came to Pochutla to fix me phone.
She asked if I am travelling alone.
“Si, solo”.
The conversation continued as I answered her questions.
I told why I liked Zipolite, where I had been before, how long I had been travelling, what Australia is like, how many siblings I have + their names and the order of age…
“Mi bebita hermana Anneliese, mucho ti amo” I told her as I expressed my love for my little sister. I even managed to explain my parents separated and told her of the extended family I have which includes my dads partner Verna and her twins Mahala and Felix.
All the way through, when I would answer her questions, I would ask it back.
Her name was “Sessi” and she was born in Pochutla. She liked her town in a “so-so” kind of way, she said it was peaceful, 3 sisters and 3 brothers, single mother, and she had a big family gathering on Christmas which had just passed.
Much of the conversation was spent in silence, as she either digested the moment or contemplated the next question.
I could feel she was very interested in me, and I sensed perhaps a little lonely.
I felt at peace in her presence.
She asked me if I could show her photo’s of Australia, I reminded her my phone is in the shop getting repaired.
The whole time we sat there I fidgeted with a pen I had found on the ground. Using my thumb to pop the lid off and pop it back on.
I suspected time had passed beyond the scheduled phone pick up, but I didn’t feel any rush to leave the moment I was sharing with Sessi.
It felt like a special treat.
A gift.
Once the moment reached it’s edge and I felt ready to leave, to the best of my ability, I asked her what the time was, “tiene tiempo”.
It was past 4pm, which meant my phone would be ready.
I told her I was going to go.
She pulled a crumpled up receipt out of her purse and flattened it on the bench in front of us, asking if she could have my phone number.
I popped the lid of my pen and scrawled it across the wrinkly paper.
We smiled together and she stood with her arms out for a hug.
I stayed sitting as I hugged her, my head reaching her shoulder.
She pulled me close into her bosom and held me long enough for a few deep breaths.
I surrendered into her embrace and felt moved by the mother-ness of it.
I really felt loved by her.
She released and placed her hands on my face, turning my face to the side as she placed a big kiss on my cheek.
And then she pulled me directly towards her again, I almost thought she was going to kiss my mouth, but she tilted my head forwards and put a long soft kiss on my forehead.
She spoke some words that I didn’t understand, but I felt were very kind and loving.
I thanked her, and reached out to shake hands with her daughter Emilia to say goodbye.
Emilia ignored my hand and fell into a hug with me also.
I smiled big again, as I stood up, grabbed my things and told them “Mucho Gusto”.
Nice to meet you.
I walked back down the aisle, feeling grateful, and emerged from the shaded cool church back into the noisey hot glare of Pochutla - back into the life.
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