As far as my mind goes right, It's been a long time since I said some unfortunate goodbyes to my trekking life. Sometimes I feel I could have been there for some unique pleasurable intimacies with western culture moreover I was very anxious about the way they do things, their culture, talks, the way they interact with me and a plenty of innumerable reasons. Since I was from some coloured complexions and from a newly arrived species of some terribly olden cultural, political and economic backgrounds, I was that inquisitive about the lands outside of our borders, especially western. Their golden coloured hairs and white skin and their humbleness towards everybody, what else, everything western terribly mattered in my curious mind. I was a great fan of them with all means, the incredible matters they have in every fields, namely the cinema, art and culture, education, sophisticated life styles. I was always, may be I will. My thoughts were moulded by their treasure trove knowledge and I owe them a lot. It's not that blind, but I have my own responsibilities and concern for the inevitabilities that I have had with them.
Let's get into the trekking tale with that Mexican grandma and her story was no different from my curious babblings of westernized dilemmas. She was in her early eighties. Anyway age couldn't build any barrier before her will to hike the terrible hill. She couldn't do it alone though, her son was with her there. He exactly looked like a delicate Jesus Christ, a handsome young guy, not that tall but he smiled at me all the while I was with them, helping him to get his mother not to stumble over the rough and slippery paths. She looked like queen Elizabeth and a mysterious halo could be seen all over her, even in her talks I could perceive it. As though she was all Columbian she spoke English very fluently with me and I was all curious talking to her about everything under sun. She disliked Americans and their attitude towards Mexico and at one point of time she said if she got a chance she would definitely shoot Trump. She shared her views regarding the Mexican life, the political situation there, communist ideals and the very language Spanish. In the end if the trucking, she recommended me to learn Spanish.
" You should study Spanish it's good for you. It's a good language." She said. I can still remember it. Yes I do often whenever I come across the Latin America and the language Spanish.
At all the dangerous slippery turnings and curves in the hill I hold her hands tight not letting her fall and she was intermittently saying gratitudes with all embracing smile. Actually I couldn't mind others since everyone out there in that evening walk climbed the hill like a real hulk. We were all in the back of the group and I badly needed to be there and attend her since she was the only Octanarian in the group. We reached the resort late and we part at the turning of reception.
Then she said
" We are leaving tomorrow, I should give you some tips because you cared for me all through the walk. Would you wait for me some time now?"
Then I said it was okay, I could meet her next day as it was getting dark. Next morning she came early with her bags and asked me to write my name and details on a paper and give it to her. I did so and she gave me some tips, saying,
"I should give you something " She opened her purse and took a five hundreds' note. It's a different experience to me. I have had tips before but it's something special for me. My second special guest I remembered then, before I had that intimate relationship with another couple from UK and it had been a wonderful experience to me. She then waved at me saying good byes then we part for good.