The Denver Daydream

Peru was just a daydream. It wasn’t even a normal night dream where sometimes the dream flirts so closely with reality that life and dream blend to form an alternate existence. No, this was no such dream. In the first moment of being in Denver again, after a year and two months in Peru, I felt like Peru had never actually happened. Peru was an ephemeral glimmer of what might have been had I chosen to leave, had I actually been willing to move to South America.

The experience was surreal. Nothing in Denver was different than when I had left. I could have been gone just a day or an afternoon. All the experiences in Peru, the friends, the sicknesses, the struggle to find a job, the move into a new house, the language development, the food and the discussions with campesinos were fleeting thoughts. I had been tricked. There I was again drinking delicious Colorado microbrews with friends, climbing in Eldorado Canyon, eating giant burritos. It felt natural. It felt like my life. Whoever had deceived me into thinking that I had lived in Peru had done a good job. Perhaps I was slipped some sort of hallucinogenic cactus drink that made me believe in the reality of my trip.

The return was like curling up in a childhood blanket. I felt sedated by how comfortable everything was. There was nothing challenging to face, no arguments to have with taxi drivers or stomach cramps from food. I was sublimely happy and eager to regain consciousness from the daydream.

“I already had a snack!” Baby Hands was still a little curmudgeon who already acted like a child though he’s almost thirty-one now. I quickly picked up on how hilarious his comment was and mimicked him with an almost exact impression. His laugh in response echoed of old times where that back and forth between us happened at least a dozen times each day. His girlfriend Leah, the caretaker of all of our needs was at it again, organizing outings and planning what bars to visit each night. Her planning, which included copious amounts of drinking, left me with a weaker liver but an everlasting smile. And as if the events themselves were not entertaining enough, she would pepper the days and nights with hugs of welcome, expressing joy for the fact that we were all together again. Her title for our group of friends was “the family”, and she was the matriarch that kept us together.

One of our outings was to Indian Creek, Utah, where crags of red sandstone jut out of dry earth. Though the trip was long and was made more arduous by a case of a motion sickness, panic induced broken ankle (that’s a whole other story) the time was passed by reuniting with my friends. By day we would climb parallel cracks in the beautiful rock. By night, as I sat next to my old climbing partner Ethan in the back of Tom’s Tacoma, we would make endless jokes that would deliver cramps as we tried to recover our breathes from laughter. Ethan’s wit was too much to take at times and I thought I would lose consciousness from laughing so hard. The amount of joy created during those campfires was enough to keep me happy through whatever future challenge I might face.

I felt lucky to be able to return when other friends were in town as well. Pete, the guru of big wall climbing and my first partner up El Cap, brought his wonderful girlfriend Kate into our world of sardonic humor. Poor Kate. She handled us well though and as Pete and I passed beers back and forth I felt like I was a climbing bum again…I had slipped into another daydream, this time, away from my Peruvian life. The Denver daydream included Texans that preferred Miller Light to a Colorado microbrew, climbing gyms with ego infused boulderers, and dogs that did not have rocks thrown at them when they barked at you. It included clean streets and a consciousness of safety that was so strong that it elicited fear. It was America again, complete with water fountains and organized traffic patterns.

The Denver daydream grew strong, tossing me into thoughts of impermanence. I felt like I didn’t exist anywhere, neither in Peru nor in the States. I was ghostlike. As I sat down to dinner with my parents and my aunt, everything appeared like a silly fantasy where I could act without connection to any sort of reality. I talked about life and Peru with my Dad, without really feeling the connection to Peru. It was as if I spoke in theory: ‘Had I been in Peru, this would have happened to me’, rather than about facts about my life. My mom offered support as I moved around the city trying to visit friends as much as possible. I felt like I was neglecting family and the excuse of “there’s so much to do”, though true, didn’t seem like a good enough reason. In the end I felt that I couldn’t maximize time with anyone, a feeling that further pushed me into the dream state. I was happy to be able to see my grandmother, if only for a brief period, and to visit other people I consider family though there is no genealogical connection between us. It was an interlude, a rest between adventures. But it was fleeting.

The whole experience begged the question, “What if I had stayed in the States?” I am constantly torn by this question and as I live out this life it seems like that opposing reality unravels itself next to me on its own separate path. I imagine myself either teaching at a school in Denver or as a climbing bum living in my truck. Both potential realities have benefits and also have drawbacks. But the biggest problem I have with both is that they are lives that I have already known and grown comfortable with. The amount of challenge and learning I find living abroad is exponential to what I find living those other lives. It is my desire for learning and challenge that keeps me away from the States, though this trip taught me that the States can still teach me an incredible amount of new lessons. In my time there I rediscovered true generosity and kindness. I connected with friendships that last despite my absence and I found that my home, in its people and places, is still there to support me though I have distanced myself. These are lessons that I take with me into my future travels, lessons that have given me the tools to live this life deliberately and consciously.

I’ve awoken from my daydreams. I’m back at work, back to my routine. But in about two months I’ll be leaving Peru. I’m off to travel for about 6 months before looking for a new job, this time in Brazil. I’m excited to slip into that dream.

SEE SOME PICS FROM THE TRIP HERE