One of my little dreams was to leave my footprints in the sand of Copacabana and Ipanema. This is what it was like to live it out:
The beaches of Ipanema and Copacabana are like crescent moons fallen to earth. The waves that break on them have travelled a third of the way around the world, and there’s something seductive about the sight of them, something spiritual about the sound. Let them lap around your feet and soon your heartbeat slows, your breathing deepens and your thoughts drift with the tide, carried away as vague notions and brought back as something more by the ocean. It’s as if you’re talking with Mother Nature, listening to Father Time, and they’re answering questions you didn’t even know you’d asked. Listen hard enough and you hear not just the roar of the surf but a whisper that seems to be telling the secrets of time and tide: where the wind and waves come from, where they’re going and why--a wealth of knowledge, the wisdom of ages... And for a little while you feel like you understand...
But only for a little while; for about as long as your footprints last in the sand. Somehow not all the wealth is lost with the knowledge, though; you remember the roar if not the whisper, the feeling if not the thoughts. Like the tide that carried it, the richness gained from leaving your footprints in the sand is never wholly spent.
Other highlights so far:
Whirling dervishes in Cairo, gypsy dancers in Budapest and flamenco dancers in Seville; a Cuba Libre in a Havana bar, and a musical on Broadway.
Seeing lost cities in the Mexican jungle, climbing the Pyramid of Kukulcan in Chichen Itza, and sitting cross-legged in the sand in front of the Great Pyramid at Giza. Letting the ruins of Rome rebuild themselves in my mind, setting foot in Beijing's Forbidden City and gazing from a watchtower on the Great Wall of China.
Taking the Star Ferry to see the lights of Kowloon by night, and the Maid of the Mist to see a rainbow rising over Niagara Falls; riding a cable car through the streets of San Francisco and a gondola on the canals of Venice.
The sights and sounds of the Pan African Market in Cape Town, the Grand Bazaar in Istanbul and the souks of Marrakesh; crossing the Atlas Mountains and stopping off at caravanserai and kasbah.
Photographing storm clouds being shredded by the summit of the Matterhorn, following a butterfly with wings as big as my hand in a South American rainforest and worshipping the giant redwoods of Cathedral Grove.
Taking in the view from the feet of Christ the Redeemer in Rio and leaving my footprints in the sand of Copacabana.
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