On October 24, my 31st birthday, I woke up feeling a little sad. So interesting (i.e. stupid/annoying/crazy) how a person can be super happy and content living a dream life in which they are creatively inspired, professionally and romantically confident, physically healthy, supported and loved by friends and family who are the best people ever, and traveling the world through the generosity of some surreal university-sponsored fellowship, and then a birthday rolls around somehow manages to throw self-doubt all over all of it.
WHAT THE HELL, BIRTHDAY??
I hadn’t cried at all during this trip so far (which has been a little surprising, actually), but I did have to wipe some tears away that day. I don’t mind being sad, but when it happens, I really prefer to know what I’m sad ABOUT, if possible. And this time, I just couldn’t put my finger on it. It was definitely birthday-related, but how? Was I sad that I didn’t have people to celebrate with in person? Was it mortality-related? Was it related at all to feeling like I wasn’t where I needed to be in life? (This one seemed the least likely… I can’t imagine being in a better place in life and feeling any more optimistic about the future.)
When Annika messaged me to wish me a happy birthday, I told her about my weird sad mood, and she boosted my spirits by trying to send me a dance party playlist on Spotify (we still haven’t figured out how to make it work, but it's the thought that counts and it definitely helped!)
Seeing happy birthday posts and getting messages from family and friends was wonderful and made me feel like I got to celebrate a little bit WITH people, even though I did spend the whole day alone. I had lunch at Layka, tried to find Marka Tambo (Bolivian folk music place) on Calle Jean (which is a tiny bit of street preserved from colonial days with cobblestone street and no cars allowed), but it was nowhere to be found. I found out later, when I returned to La Paz for one night, that Marko Tambo has been converted into a hostel, so that explains that...
When I couldn't find Marko Tambo, I went to a dim, romantic, candlelit café on the same street instead and read All the Light We Cannot See on my Kindle while sipping some whisky, and then a (generously poured) glass of house wine. On the walk back to the AirBNB, I passed by another place I’ve been meaning to check out, Diesel Nacional. It's a quirky mechanical-themed bar, also dimly lit, and I enjoyed one more whisky there before calling it a night. It was a lovely night for walking. When I got to within a mile or so of the AirBNB, a young gent on a motorcycle offered to give me a ride. I said “no, pero gracias. Estoy bien.” He then circled back around and asked again. He only had one helmet, so I said, “okay, but only if I can use your helmet.” (I can’t make two stupid decisions at once, ya know?) So he gave me his helmet, and took me for a 5-minute ride to the AirBNB. By the time I snuggled back into bed, my birthday blues were completely gone, and I am very much looking forward to the adventures my life as a 31-year-old has in store :)
