I'm a tourist in the Caribbean. You can recognize me by my tanned shoulders and the fact that I buy small gifts for myself in various souvenir stores without understanding if they are over-priced or not - I also take super expensive taxis. And thank and you so much to everyone who offers me to buy skin care products, drinks and the best local dishes. I may also violate rules that I do not see or understand - I apologize.
It's so plastic that I'm ashamed. But then when I start talking to people in a language that everyone understands, including me, then something wonderful happens. The taxi trips become deep conversations, for instance with a war veteran about experiences of missing parents. Refreshing discussions about the colorful life of the island from a New York guy who will never return back to the states, and political thoughts about the immigration situation in the EU in a hat and cigar store. Short, wonderful meetings.
You may wonder what language I am talking about here? It is the language of when two unknown people meet and the souls begin to talk to each other. When you forget about titles, color, gender and descent for a little while. Time stops and we share our experiences of life in a short vacuum. After a couple of minutes, pulling out of each other to our lives again, where I'm a pink tourist who buys small gifts and he becomes another taxi driver who drives me home to my hotel in the evening or becomes a seller of hats and cigars in the small local shop.
We all look at the same life but we create different stories. None of us are right and neither of us are wrong, we are just trying to interpret what we see. The problem begins when we believe that only that which we see is the real reality. Because then we put ourselves in a vacuum of titles, color, gender and descent that can turn pink and plastic or colourful and dynamic. What I choose? Guess.