El Condor Pasa (If I Could)

I swear that I live a movie. That I am secretly being followed around by a camera crew, a producer, a writer, a director, but unfortunately no hair or makeup artist.

The music I pick to listen to at any given moment is typically what I would imagine a person in a movie doing and the music correlating. For instance, a person jogging would have a soundtrack of Justin Timberlake, someone reading the newspaper and drinking coffee may be accompanied by of Lauryn Hill, while someone entertaining friends, putting down some cold ones may be shown on the screen with Bob Marley blaring in the background.

When Alicia and I finally took off in the plane from LAX, destination Germany, I picked an extremely sentimental song, to be playing on my soundtrack of life; El Condor Pasa (If I Could) by Simon and Garfunkel. My dad built a sailing boat with his brother and a few others, which they sailed for a few months to Hawaii, Tahiti and Samoa. My dad flew home from Tahiti, rather than continuing to Samoa, because my mom got in a car accident and was terribly upset. They had only been married a few months when he took off for the trip. The captain of the ship recorded the arduous journey, arrived home, edited it, put music and narration in the background and gave each sea-goer a copy. El Condor Pasa (If I Could) by Simon and Garfunkel is the only song I recall as continually streaming throughout the self-made movie. This was 1981 and I assume it to be a quite popular song of the time. Enter me. Stage Right. Growing up, watching this “thing” that my dad did, because he is the most amazing man ever. The strongest, the toughest, the bravest, the only one I could have derived from. Listening to this song, which to me is now synonymous with an amazing journey, doing what one wishes, what others only dream.

What song better to begin my own sail around uncharted waters than the eerie melody that I grew up whistling, never knowing exactly what journey may be in store for me. I scroll through my quite accomplished music library, and choose the song remembering it’s significance. Tears well my eyes as the lights of LA grow faint, not because I am sad to be leaving, but because I finally feel like I am living. Because I couldn’t be happier than at this very moment. Because moments like this a few and far between. Until now they have been reserved for those shared among the masses; graduation from high school, graduation from college, my last water polo game. Moments like this will happen in the future; walking down the aisle, having my first baby. None of those events were happening today, today was my own event. Today the stars were in alignment, I had my health, and that’s all that mattered. Today was my day because it took me 23 years to decide what I wanted to do and to do exactly that. I was not on a boat, with a new wife at home, sailing the ocean. I was on a plane, while at home awaited a patient boyfriend, disagreeing parents, no real career path, and a sad puppy. Time stood still.

I listened closely to the lyrics of the song, hoping something would resonate strongly with the moment. A theme for my trip, a mantra for my being. “I’d rather be a swallow, than a snail,” Garfunkel chants. Okay… good. We’re getting somewhere. I like birds. I have two doves as tattoos. Getting a tattoo was a huge step of independence. Birds fly. I live in Orange County where the swallows of Capistrano flock every year. Swallows are typical with sailors for tattoos because even though they fly away, they always come back home eventually. The song ended, the moment passed. It was only a song. They were only words that melodically joined the song.

A few nights ago, the “Fam” went out to dinner to Chinese food outside the little town we are staying. It was 7:30 but the place was empty, as most people don’t eat until 9:00. We were sitting at a table for 7 in the corner, of the large establishment. I have becoming very good as quietly entertaining myself, as every conversation is in German, which I know little to none. So I am left to my thoughts, unless Alicia engages me in a conversation in English. I was listening to the music playing in the background, thinking again about the movie of my life. A comedic, “fish out of water” story; American girl in a German town in a Chinese restaurant. The music was American songs but played with a Chinese instrument. Think Memoirs of a Geisha. What song would be more appropriate to be played on a Chinese instrument in a German restaurant as an American girl sits quietly, dying to be spoken to? El Condor Pasa slowing began seeping out of the speakers. It took me a second to recognize and believe what I was hearing, but upon understanding the coincidence and thus significance of the song, which the musical director assigned to that very instance, a secret smile crept across my face.

I have been inhaling books so far this trip. We have so much down time during the day and when I am back in the states there is “never enough time” to read. Which is why I am lugging around an overzealous amount of books to read; some classics, some historical; some romance. Yesterday, I spent the entire day in bed reading. No joke. All day. I had nothing to do, we are waiting out our time in Germany before our departure to Switzerland tomorrow, so I did everything I wanted and nothing I didn’t. I literally woke up, read, ate a little, showered, read, ate cake for Aunt Meggie’s birthday, read, read, read… I finished a book I started on the plane, began a book and finished it, and started another, which I woke up today and began reading again as well.

The book I began yesterday is a story similar to my own; woman seeking adventure, travels to Europe, encounters language barriers and good-looking men. Almost like a personal ad. During one of her descriptions of the Western World she details that some things are always the same; African men selling knock-off purses and Guatemalan musicians always playing “I’d rather be a swallow than a snail,“ on their bamboo pipes. I couldn’t believe my eyes. This song that many have heard, but few recognize is haunting me. It is following me from destination to destination, from one thought to the next. It is my continual reminder as to why I embarked on this pilgrimage, how difficult it was to get here, the sacrifices I made for my selfish desires, and that I will eventually return a different person.

We all have a soundtrack; all the songs different, but with a similar undertone, theme, description, mood. It’s the realization of what those songs are and what one would like them to be that changes people.