champagne blonde/finding the gypsy train

                      

       In December 2009 I arrived with trepidation for yet another winter season of bartending, this time at Squaw Valley in Lake Tahoe, California. On the first day I was acquainted with the usual suspects of any ski resort, except one. With champagne blonde hair, freckled nose, and perfect pearl white smile Ashley stood across the room. I was incapable of taking my eyes off her through the entire orientation. But then I talked to her, judging instantly, I presumed she was moody, self-absorbed and an unmitigated pain in the ass, only to discover a short time later how wrong I was.

A few weeks went by. Ashley and I worked and argued together. Once feeling contempt for this beautiful girl, I found myself at the end of each day with thoughts of her. I would get perpetually excited on the way to work each morning. Slowly our encounters became friendlier. I realized deeper down she is actually caring, dependable and could make me laugh uncontrollably. Then it happened, in the midst of a friendly feud about work and a few beers, we stepped into the snowy outside, I kissed her. To this day I'm not sure in what instance I thought to kiss her, but I did. The next couple weeks went slowly and with uncertainty.

Then one night in early February Ashley stayed over and after that we were together nearly every night for the next months. In May we visited Portland, Maine Ashley’s hometown. Then decided on a whim we would move there so she could be near her family. We both flew back west with plans of me packing my things in Seattle and meeting her in Tahoe to drive east for the summer. While at home getting things together I received a message from my best friend Zach "I'm buying a bus and we need a fourth person, you in?"

With Zach’s call in crept that wanderlust feeling that so often consumes me, compounded by apprehensiveness of crossing the country for a girl. Deciding I was too crazy about Ashley not to see how things could turn out, my bags were packed, ticket purchased. When I arrived at Tahoe Ashley and I were both fearful and intimidated about the future. We spent the next week finalizing the end of season at Squaw, shipped what wouldn’t fit in the car, loaded the rest and set out in the evening sun winding up the hill on Highway 431 taking one last look out over breathtaking Lake Tahoe and drove across the dark night of the Nevada desert.

The next week we happily rushed across the US visiting the Grand Canyon and friends along the way in Colorado, Iowa and upstate New York finally arriving in Maine the night before Ashley’s 25 birthday. Everything for me at this time was feeling so right and I was ecstatic with my decision. First couple weeks were great until I was unable to find any work. This started to exhaust me, which lead to arguing and frustration. We moved into an apartment in downtown Portland at the height of all the quarreling. Pressure thickened for the both of us. So badly I wanted everything to work out. All I could do to numb the situation was run. Literally running everyday day of the week was my only escape. Every thought I had was consumed by “what to do, how can I make this work, what can be done?” No matter how bad things got, I missed her every time we were apart and I was always so happy to see her again, adding even more confusion.

Then one morning like any other in early August we woke up in our little apartment, making breakfast and coffee. Still so easy to remember the whole morning so vividly, bright sunlight shown through our makeshift curtains and across the hardwood floor where I sat days earlier building our sofa. Left over pizza box lying on the floor from last night, and half drunk wine glasses sitting on the side table. We were both drained from thoughts of feeling like we needed to make some sort of bourgeois life for ourselves. We began to bitch at one another, unaware of any necessary reasons. All of this culminating to the most tranquil dispute we had in days.

I began packing my bags in frustration and anger not believing I would actually leave but in some child like temper-tantrum. Ashley seemed to ignore my behavior as I walked through our place picking out the things I could fit in my duffle. The apartment was hot and quiet; she sat on the end of the bed amongst the ruffled sheets my bags lay neatly by the front door. I walked through the open bedroom door, stood in front of her feeling like in any instant my heart would burst. I wrapped my shaking hands around the back of her head and gave her the softest kiss I could on her cheek just below her eye, pulled her in close and whispered “I Love You.” Turning, I walked out of the room, laid my key gently on the dining table, grabbed my two backpacks and duffle and walked down the carpeted stairs, out to the street below.

I stood there for a moment in tears my skin trembling. My ears listen intently for the sound of her voice, asking me to “get back inside.” Nothing was heard but the soft swish of leaves in the trees above. There was nothing left to do but walk away. Faintly remembering where the bus station was I began in that direction, sticking to the side streets hoping not to see anyone. I walked the 20 blocks in the blistering sun feeling desolate and pointless, arriving finally at the bus station, which felt like it had taken hours and hours. I stood there with my bags with only one real option, Boston.

A good friend from Seattle was living in Boston for school, so I bought myself a ticket for the next bus. I sat and waited leaning against the building watching the cars pass by with unfocused eyes. Forty minutes went by I sat that way feeling sad and lonely, the bus pulled up and it was my turn to get on. I walked passed empty seats making my way to the back. I tucked myself in a corner and texted Colin, he replied immediately with directions to his place. The bus ride was quiet; I starred out over the dimming New England sunlight. The next 3 days I hid away in Colin’s spare bedroom talking with Zach on Skype and looking up flights the world over.

I was feeling so many mixed emotions during this time; it’s like everything I wanted I couldn’t have. I came back after another long run along the river in Cambridge watching the crews row on the river in perfect synchronization and buses pass through the languished summer city. Walked up the steps and into the turn of the century home I was staying, into the bedroom still sweating from my run, pulled up the flights for Bogota, Colombia and purchased a one way ticket for the next day. Just like that in 24 hours I would be flying out of Boston and leaving everything behind; whereas, just days before I was walking the streets of Portland handing resumes door to door.

The now infamous Bus awaited me in Ecuador. The bus was broken (the first of many broken moments), but Zach assured me it would be ready to roll at anytime, in actuality it turned out more like 6 weeks, but when in bus, no one keeps track of time. I traveled the next two weeks on my own in Columbia all the while excited to see Zach again and meet the crew in Quito. During this time my mind raced, wishing at times I were back in Portland, with the girl I still loved. Thinking maybe my decision was too rash but too proud to admit, I just hoped every time I went online to check my mail there would be something from Ashley.

Finally, I arrived in Quito, Ecuador meeting Zach, Alex, Aleana, Matthias and Monkey. We spent my 26th birthday hung-over on the floor of a Hostel eating cheap hamburgers. Instantly I felt at home and welcome into the uncharted future of the Gypsy Train. Even after many months of travel my mind would still wonder and have nights desperately missing Ashley.

THANK YOU:

I would really like to thank Sally Barker and all of her family for so much support and help while I was in Portland. Letting me into there homes and so graciously looking after me as if I had always been there. You still and will always mean so much to me, and thanks for always making me laugh so hard.

Also Colin McLaurin wow!!! saved me in the last moments, even when I was 3,000 miles from anywhere I knew, there he was to lend a hand in a moments notice. And to his Beautiful roomates Katie and Christine for letting me spend hours telling my sob stories.

Thank you all