Instantes (Instants)

This is a poem we read in Spanish class called Instantes by Nadine Stair that really resonated with me. I´ve included the Spanish version with my own rough translation.

Si pudiera vivir nuevamente mi vida, en la próxima trataría de cometer más errores. No intentaría ser tan perfecto, me relajaría más.
Sería más tonto de lo que he sido, de hecho tomaría muy pocas cosas con seriedad.
Sería menos higiénico.
Correría más riesgosd, haría más viajes, contemplaría más atardeceres, subiría más montañas, nadaría más ríos.
Iría a más lugares adonde nunca he ido, comería más helados y menos habas, tendría más problemas reales y menos imaginarios.
Por si no lo saben, de eso está hecha la vida, sólo de momentos, no te pierdas el ahora.
Yo era de esos que nunca iban a ninguna parte sin un termómetro, una bolsa de agua caliente, un paraguas y un paracaídasñ si pudiera volver a vivier, viviría mñas liviano.
Si pudiera vovler a vivir comenzaría a andar descalzo a principios de la primavera y seguiría hasta concluir el otoño.
Daría más vueltas en calestia, contemplaría más amaneceres y jugaría con más niños, si tuviera otra vez la vida por delante.
Pero ya ven, tengo 85 años y sé que me estoy muriendo.

...

If I could live my life again, the next time I would try to make more mistakes. I wouldn´t try to be so perfect, I would relax more.
I would be more stupid than I have been, I would take few things seriously.
I would be less hygenic.
I would take more risks, travel more, contemplate more sunsets, climb more mountains, swim more rivers.
I would go to more places I´ve never been, eat more ice cream y fewer vegetables, I would have more real problems and fewer imagined.
And if you don´t know it, this is how life is made, only moments, don´t lose time.
I was one of those that never went anywhere without a thermometer, a hot waterbottle, an umbrella and a parachute; if I could live again I would live more lightly.
If I could do it all again I would walk barefoot in the beginning of spring until the end of autumn.
I would take more turns on the merry-go-round, contemplate more dawns and play with more kids, if I had a chance to do it all again.
But already I am 85, and I know that I am dying.

Spider Stories

I have been at war with spiders for the entirety of my life. For reasons unknown, their very existence condradicts everything I believe in. At the mere sight of the tiniest arachnid, my ¨flight or fight response¨ is activated. My heart pounds, my blood runs cold, and my mind tells me that I am in mortal danger. Yet, in contrast to my every instinct and sense of self preservation, here I am in Peru, their designated battleground.

Initially, naively, I believed myself and the spiders to be in a state of neutral coexistence. I saw them every now and then, I knew they were there, but we maintained our respective boundaries. However, I am now certain that the aroma of my fear became irresistable. As with most of Earth´s creatures, they too sense a weak prey. Slowly, I began to see more of them. First, two with small bodies and long legs emerged in the bathroom. Although I thought I had made it clear to them that they were permited to survive only as long as they didn´t interfere with my daily activities, they blatently displayed themselves on the sink. I acted quickly, asking my host brother to take care of the matter. He did so, all the while looking at me like I was crazy. I felt a little bad, they hadn´t been particularly vicious spiders, but they had broken the rules first and I was unwilling to compromise.

The next week, I learned that Peruvian spiders play dirty. It was four in the morning, and I was returning from a quinciñera. Despite the metal doors and cement floors, I had managed to make it to my room without producing a sound loud enough to wake my family. Eager to rest after a tiring day, I put on my pajamas and walked across the room to turn out the light. Half way to my destination, I encountered a spider the size of my hand, perched for the attack in the middle of the far wall. One month before I might have had a nervous breakdown, but I was Peruvian now. Determined to win this battle too, I made my way to the kitchen and grabbed both a broom and a plastic bag. As I expected, the spider lay in wait, unmoving from its previous position. With a deep breath and a decisive move, I slammed the bristles into it´s body. To my utter horror, the spider lept off the wall directly towards my face, as if it had anticipated my move. The battle lost, I screamed in terror, swiping madly at the air. My host sister ran into the room, curious as to what could be so terrifying at four in the morning. I explained in my broken Spanish, as she examined the remnants of the enemy on the floor. ¨It´s not that big,¨she said. ¨Sleep well.¨ My thought: ¨They get bigger?¨

Later, during field based training, my group was assigned to give a lesson in front of one hundred fourth and fifth graders at a school in Cajamarca. When we walked into the room, there was a great deal of excitement, and we thought they were especially thrilled to see us. However, it turned out that the real sensation was a large poisonous black spider that had to be removed with a set of pliers by one of the professors. Yes, they get bigger.

Now, in my eighth week in the land of the spiders, the war continues. For the last week I had been waking up with more bug bites than when I had went to bed, including some which had formed unique red welts on my right arm. I had searched for the source without any luck. However, as I pulled back the covers last night to perform my rutine inspection, a squirming black body dashed across my Casper comforter, making a beeline for my hand. Holding in a scream, a yanked off my shoe and brought down my judgement upon it. However, while my mattress is very firm, it didn´t provide enough force to squish the intruder. Again, with a red face, I enlisted my host brother to take it down. He did so, whisking it quickly to the floor and raking it´s body across the cement until nothing remained but a damp stain.

And so the war continues. Me versus them. I´m outnumbered, but my spirit won´t be broken.