But alas, I have always been the guy who finds some excuse, justified in my mind, to avoid trying something new and exciting because I struggled to be excited by its novelty. And I'm slowly, but surely, working on correcting that.
This past weekend I experienced a lot of "firsts" in my life. For example, on Friday we had a "guy’s night" at a local fine-dining establishment called Tusca (which was, among other things, known for its fantastic Sangria by the liter.) I'm going to give away how uncultured I am by admitting that I had calamari for the first time - and I loved it. It was not the rubbery, tasteless dish I had been warned about. It was incredibly delicate with a texture similar to pasta (drenched in butter and oil, which never hurts). Going along with the culinary theme, I also tried pork belly on Saturday night, which I will attempt to recreate when I get back home for my family and girlfriend. And they will enjoy every. last. bite.
On Sunday, Will and I took another tramp (hike), which we've been doing a lot recently. On this particular tramp, we reached a high point where we could take a more experienced trail down the mountain. On the climb down, I was only able to see the trail three feet in front of me before it dropped suddenly, at which point I had to very carefully ascend to the next part. There was about two feet of width to the edge of the cliff, which, by instinct, you tell yourself doesn’t exist. And you definitely don't look down. It's quite a mind job and would be very easy to psyche yourself out. This, really, could be the most dangerous aspect next to falling since the climb is about 45 minutes down and once you’ve started you’re kind of committed to finish.
At several points in this climb there were near-90 degree drops of rock with a rope attached at the top. To give you an idea of my experience level, I'm not sure I even comprehended what abseiling WAS until I was in a situation where I was forced to do it. But with some helpful guidance from Will I found myself hanging perpendicular to a cliff, walking backwards down jagged rocks. And I'm not being melodramatic.
It was truly thrilling. I only worried a little about the potential danger, knowing that as long as I was careful and watched my movements I wasn't putting myself at (too much) risk. The payoff, at the end, was well worth it. We ended up in an enormous, secluded beach that could only be accessed by the 40-minute climb down, meaning we had the entire area to ourselves. We did some exploring, and ended up in a dark, damp cave that would normally have been completely underwater at high tide. We walked through it for about two minutes, at points feeling our way through pitch-black, making it to the other side where we had to climb out. Needless to say, I was feeling very Robinson Crusoe by the end of it all. It’s times like this, however, that one learns to truly appreciate being born in a period when hot showers exist.
It's currently a little late, which always affects my writing in some way as I tend to be compelled to reach some all-encompassing conclusion about what I've experienced - in this case, maybe a hint of perspective. Although I am, and likely always will be, somewhat of a loner at heart, there is certainly something to be said about opening yourself up to every experience available. I think those alien-people who find their passions at age 8 are the personalities that welcome new experiences, while many of us are content, for the most part, with what's comfortable. With what's familiar. And I'm starting to think that's treading on dangerous ground. Without meaning to sound too sage, I'm discovering more and more while I'm here that it's necessary to always try and surprise yourself. Otherwise you risk forgetting, if only to some degree, how it feels to live.
I hope everyone is enjoying this little blog. It’s good for me to keep writing in a time where I have plenty of time to do it (see: unemployed). I miss you all.
Sleep tight,
John
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