Not Going Away For The Weekend

A week or two ago, I realized that I deeply needed to be at the beach. This wasn’t some high-minded, spiritual revelation; it’d just been a rough week and I wanted to end it lying down with my toes in the sand, reading a good book in the December heat. This desire had swept over me pretty early in the week, and by Thursday (my Friday) I was ready to set out. I was going alone; I really just wanted the opportunity to exist and just breathe. Being around other people is great, but every now and then I just need some time alone. The problem here is that I’d never planned a solo journey before. Rather, I’d always been part of a trip someone else had been planning. This was to be my first self-planned trip.

I had all the logistics set up by early evening; I was planning to take a midnight bus to the coastal city of Manta. I packed up and called my uber at ten thirty. I was confident that I’d make it in time and be happily on the beach by morning. I was half right about that.

The doubts started to creep in when my uber driver asked if I had my tickets booked for the trip. It was a big holiday weekend, he said, and a lot of people were trying to get out of the city. I hadn’t quite connected those dots for myself, and I felt a little embarrassed to realize that it might have been a good call to make those reservations. Still, though, I waved away my worries; it’d all be fine. It had to be; I hadn’t just dropped ten dollars on an uber and spent the week dreaming of the beach only to stay in the mountains.

I arrived at the bus terminal at 11:15, with (theoretically) plenty of time before the bus was slated to leave. I went to the counter: every bus to Manta was full. Went to the next counter, heading to the smaller (but still coastal) town of Esmeraldas: all full. Puerto Lopez, Puerto Viejo, Atacames: all full. I wasn’t going to the beach.

I called my friend, upset. I explained that I’d had a rough week and asked if she could meet me on her roof in half an hour. She said yes; I caught a cab and picked up some snacks on the way. Sitting up on her roof, eating chips and complaining to each other about our final exams, I felt at home in a way I rarely had before. It made me realize that I didn’t need to run away to be happy; all I need is to be with my friends. I still love the beach, but I understand now that it’s not necessarily the solution to all of my problems. I can just talk, and exist, and remind myself to be present in the place where I am—because sometimes, that’s enough.