Day 1- The trip to the Monastery

Photo: Just checked-in. A view from my room.

Whichever way one wants to see it, the adventure has started. The time for true introspection while being in places with no safety net.

I was relieved when leaving Miami, just because the long traveling, the rushing within tight schedules, the organizing and fast decision-making trying to get life organized for the upcoming 8 months or so, was over.

Technically, Buenos Aires-Miami is an 8-hour flight non-stop. However, because of several reasons, I had a 3-hour stop-over in Panama. That meant I woke up at 5am to leave BA and I did not go to bed until 3am (BA time)! Things could have been a little bit faster if luggage had shown up earlier, the shuttle to the hotel would have shown earlier, and if my luggage would not have been the last one to get off the shuttle (this meant being the last one on the line for checking in at the hotel… yes, the whole shuttle was checking in ahead of me). And I had to wake up at 7 am for an early and packed day. Of course, I am not complaining, I would like you to feel where I was coming from. I am actually grateful that weather conditions were in my favour (in spite of playing crazy games all over: unusually terrible thunder and windstorms in Argentina, snow in Florida, bad snow and wind storms in NY), that my luggage was not lost (or delayed), and that I am now writing in a freezing upstate NY, from the coziness of a lovely, simple, welcoming monastery.

Leaving Miami was a full day of traveling, that is 2 days after the 21 hour travel day. However, it was full of little pleasant surprises, yet so meaningful in a trip like this one. I was lucky that the shuttle driver saw me waiving at him to wait for me; I might have been tight with the flight otherwise (particularly since it seems that now, this major airline –which I will keep anonymous- has embraced the good habit of punctuality!). When I arrive at Port Authority Terminal (to take the 2-hour bus to Middletown) the most unexpected thing happened to me. Unexpected because being born and raised in a big city like Buenos Aires and having visited Manhattan a few times, I am familiar with the big-city mode (people rushing, tense, maybe even bitter or in a bad mood, maybe even edgy or aggressive, go fast, get out of my way, don’t look at me, don’t even try talking at me, get out of my way I said). I am not criticizing, I am just describing. And I have to confess that I have caught myself in that mode so many times, either because it works as a defensive strategy –particularly for women- or because I might be running late otherwise. This was the last stop of the bus and I am with the driver unloading my 2 suitcases and carry-on, I am arranging them in the way I know so that I can carry them myself all together. When a guy asks: Do you need help?

Of course, automatic response: no thank you.

But then when I was about to go up the flight of stairs, he just came and grabbed one suitcase! The guy not only helped me up those stairs, we walked down to buy my ticket and then 2 floors upstairs to the gate where my bus would leave. I was feeling so bad because of too much unsolicited help- he said he had come to bring some German friends to the station after going out that night, and his only task on his day was go back home and catch some sleep. I confessed I was surprised with so much generous help, particularly in NYC. He was born in LA. In the few minutes that took us to walk through the station, we exchanged brief basic data (what you do, where from, what next). He is envious of my sabbatical and my months ahead.

The bus ride to Middletown was smooth and with Swiss punctuality. I was getting off the bus when the taxi (pre-arranged, by the Sisters’ recommendation) arrived. It was a beautiful ride, about 20-30 minutes, through the snowed hills of upstate NY. The driver was extremely friendly, and even though I was indescribably exhausted, we had a pleasant conversation seasoned with some laugh all the way, sharing anecdotes about US-Canada border-crossing, my upcoming trips, his sons, the monasteries in the region...

The “monastery” is an old simple house, that used to be a hotel. There are a couple of buildings on one side of the road, and few others on the other side. The driver left me in what was the old hotel, so that I could hopefully find someone there, although I could not see anyone. There was some scattered noise coming from the kitchen.