A City That is not my own

Being in a city foreign to your own is so odd. Even this one – one I have visted before – but before is so long ago – I can barely remember what I was like then much less what this city was like.

I went to dinner and had churros con chocolate for dessert – I loved to order it, loved to dip the sweet hot cinnamon pastry into the thick dark chocolate. You know it is good when the pastry stands up in the chocolate – at least that is what the guide book says.

I saw a movie too – it was sweet and made me cry a little

Walking back to the hotel I was asked for change 4 times and then a man followed me when I ignored his plea. I had borrowed a large umbrella from the hotel and was carrying it. After three blocks I stopped and waited for him to catch up and told him if he followed me any farther I w0ould have him killed. It was stated like a fact.

He stopped following – I wasn’t scared – I didn’t think he would really do anything – but I certainly scared him. He held up his hands “I jus thought you were pretty” or some such thing – it was hard to understand his accent – esp. with all of the alcohol. Not mine of course, his.

I looked at myself in the hotel mirror for a long time when I got in. I am so much older then I was. I don’t really think I look like I do, but of course this is me, how I am how people see me. Wrinkles. White hair coming in – There are so many things that could have been different. What if I had had children – would I be a different person – have a different life. What if I move to this city – learn this culture – what would I do if that man had followed me in my city?

We all make choices, even the ones that are seemingly made for us. What will my choices be? How will I decide who I am to be from now on?