Twenty years of yoga don’t leave you without a solid practice in meditation. And when you reach a certain level of internal peace…
… You can start to bend the rules of the outside world as well.
In the jungle being able to teleport from one place to another proves really useful.
Particularly to explore the more faraway, unique places.
At the edge of a man-made, collapsed cliff, looking over the canopy and the lazy green streams that flow through the jungle, I feel minuscule, yet powerful.
It’s a sight that — quite literally — can’t be topped.
From this dangerous, vertiginous point above the jungle, we can see the bungalow we’re staying at.
It looks tiny from here, a dash of color in a sea of green.
The deeper we go, the more overbearing the vegetation becomes. And the more incredible the vestiges we run into become.
There’s the carcass of an airplane, crashed and forsaken right in front of the grandiose entrance to what must have been a temple once. The two tall, llama-headed colons tower over the clearing, ready to judge the mortals that dare venture between them.
This scene tells a thousand stories, and though none of them are reassuring, they leave us in respectful awe.
The stairs are broken, uneven, and lead nowhere that we can see; what’s more the inn owner didn’t talk about this when she gave us indications to find the temple. We’re both relieved we won’t have to risk upsetting the llama gods.
In this clearing, we find a stone chest. It’s closed by a heavy slate. Ceremoniously, Hannah approaches, then with a glance at me she braces and pushes against the stone.
The lid slides, slowly, inch by inch, and a bright golden light starts pouring out.
Hannah found a treasure!
It’s a golden frog, a relic of the old civilizations. It’s the first she’s ever found, and she’s filled with pride, and joy, and —
But then I see her freeze. She grabs her throat and gasps. Out of thin air, a sinister dark cloud materializes around her, and gathers above her head.
“Mom? Mom I don’t feel so good… I feel… sad…”
We should have known; after all the inn owner did warn us.
Hannah’s been cursed. The Curse of the Sadness Cloud is upon her, to be broken only by joy beyond bounds.
And now we’re into the proper forest. This is where everything gets bigger, more beautiful, more impressive, but also more dangerous.
Hannah doesn’t mind, or really pay attention to, the dangers. She’s busy marveling about everything, trying to take it all it, buzzing from one spot to the other like she needs to see it all, to take it all in.
I have to remind her that we’re here for a week. She’s got some time to explore around.
“It’s not that,” she tells me, grinning. “It’s not that I’m afraid I won’t see everything. It’s just that I can’t get enough.”
I’m working on opening another gate, and Hannah found an avocado tree. She loves avocados, and I feel like seeing them outside of a San Myshuno grocery store is enough to make her trip. She carefully picks them all and puts them in a satchel.
Then without a thought for its sturdiness and the hopeless void below, she runs across a bridge of wood and ropes. Her footsteps on the planks are barely audible above the sound of the roaring waterfalls. It’s a beautiful sight, but my mother heart can’t really get over how the bridge sways with the wind and her stride.
I’m really not feeling all that safe in this forest.
Hannah still isn’t worried in the slightest, and it’s with utter bliss that she reaches the other side of the gorge, where she spots another potential excavation site.
Right there, Hannah. There is danger right there, why are you not caring more?
Yet she keeps digging as an unidentified green snake slithers by her.
This kid is either really brave or impossibly reckless.
In search for information, we go inside the bar, where we meet the owner. She’s a very classy woman, and she’s incredibly friendly.
She asks us where we’re from, what we know about the country, and generally makes conversation. Hannah leads most of it for me. She explains her childhood dream was always to explore new places, and that Selvadorada was at the top of the list.
“Ha,” the owner says. “So… you will be looking for the Hidden Temple, I suppose?”
“… Tell us more.”
I did bring us here to let Hannah fulfill her exploration dreams, but I didn’t find any information on a hidden temple; now not only are we both intrigued, we have a goal.
I take the time to change into a more appropriate outfit, then we head to the edge of a jungle. There’s an archway that signals the start of a forgotten path, but it’s blocked by branches and vines. I’m not about to let my sixteen-year-old daughter struggle with a machete, so I send her exploring elsewhere.
“I got this,” I tell her, confident.
This is when twenty years of building muscle through yoga is going to come in handy.
Hannah doesn’t idle about while I get to work on the branches. She founds a suspicious spot and immediately takes out chisel and hammer, and gets digging.
A thorough, rigorous explorer who takes pictures of every discovery stage worth capturing. The sun emerges from behind a cloud just in time for her to take a good shot.
And as the sun touches it, I put the last strike to my machete work, and the first door opens
For Hannah’s birthday, we Hugo and I cooked up a surprise that took many months of planning.
The day after she blew the candles off the cake, I dragged her to the airport, and watched her face light up as it dawned on her.
The next day we were in Selvadorada, a tropical destination charged with the history of ancient civilizations and the mysteries that literally came with the territory.
It was Hannah’s first time out of our home country, and we knew when we booked the ticket that it would be perfect for her.
If you’re wondering, the toughest part of planning this trip was deciding who would get to accompany her, and who would stay home with the twins.
In the end, we decided to make it a girls’ trip.
The first thing you’ll wanna do in Selvadorada, right after putting your luggage down, is heading to the Marketplace, where you’ll find a bar, food stalls, and vendors that will provide all the necessary supplies to get exploring.
Hannah is READY.
Since she’s her mom’s daughter and the food on the plane wasn’t all that great, she heads to the food stalls first!
Only when she tries to order does she remember — she doesn’t know the local dialect all that well.
Also, I have the money.
Mom to the rescue! I picked up the basics of the language from books bought in preparation, and I manage to order us some local food.
Hannah doesn’t wait for me to get my plate — food bought straight at the exotic source makes up for the meh restaurant we celebrated at.
I opt for a Horchata, a sugary drink elaborated from some type of plant, from what I gathered. Hannah’s got her platanos fritos and since she doesn’t talk for the whole three minutes it takes her to gulp them down, I think it’s safe to say that she likes them.
Then she heads straight to the vendor’s stall,. Though she has to wait for me to get explanations on the produce, she’s still imagining all the possibilities that this gear offers.
The statue of the Madre Cosecha is apparently a place of contemplation for the Selvadoradan sims. They have the highest respect for this figure of their history.
Hannah and I are now done buying aaall of the things from the vendors.
Mom and Mam surrendered their last breath on the same day.
I was a long way away from home when it happened, so I had to learn about it days later, once the funeral had already come and gone again.
Mom had caught the flu, a bad one, and despite the doctors’ attention, in the end they all agreed it was simply her time. Grandma and Mam were not allowed in her bedroom for fear of getting sick, too, but it didn’t stop either of them.
It was not the flu that killed Mam that evening; it was grief.
Sometimes I wonder if she would have found the strength to hold on if I hadn’t been on the other side of the globe. But Grandma is always here to reassure me: this is how they both wanted it.
Grandma lost two of her daughters that day — she had lived longer than every single one of her children by then. Yet she still found it in her to be a bright, never faltering light in everybody’s world.
Sometimes Grandma would tell me it was as though she till had talks with Mom and Mam.
I couldn’t tell how much was true and how much she imagined.
My oldest child is already a teenager. Already almost an adult! While we have seen the core of her personality slide into place over the years, here come the final touches. The details. The experiences that she forges and solidify her individuality. Her passions. Her drive.
Hannah is becoming an adult, and I intend to accompany her as far as she needs me, in every way I can. Soon she will fly on her own, the fourteenth heir to this old family we were born into.
But she’s not quite there yet. I’ll be behind her during these last few steps, or leading her when need be.
The Stewarts Family (and other shenanigans) 