finding(enjoying) simple.
For a few days now, I've had this feeling inside me that I couldn't quite put my finger on. Something that I had never really felt before in my 29 short years of living. Or at least, If I had felt it, I had never realized what that feeling was until just yesterday. For context purposes, I should provide some sort of meaning as to why this was such a, while small, life changing moment for me. For those that know me, also know my love for Nike. Seemingly always with a new or different pair of shoes on or out seeking some new piece of workout gear, usually all black. However, few really know why the brand and its apparel mean so much to me. As a kid growing up just south of Seattle in Washington state. Nike is everywhere. I mean, how could it not be, it's home HQ is just a few hours drive south into our neighboring state of Oregon. To this day, I still remember my first pair of Nike Basketball shoes. A pair of Gary Payton's "The Gloves" in all black. These were my 7th grade basketball shoes and I felt like a superstar when I wore them. Long story short, they ended up tied together and tossed around a telephone wire. So.. there's that. What I knew back then and still cherish to this day is to just how lucky I was to have them. You see, for a while, my father was a single dad with 3 kids and having the latest and greatest pair of shoes, just wasn't always in the cards. Even at such a young age when it seemed like kids only wanted to be your friend if you dressed well or had the "best" stuff. I never took for granted what my father could provide for me. In fact, I remember how upset I got that my dad wouldn't let me wear JNCO "Pipe Jeans" when everyone else was wearing them. Looking back, I should really thank him for that. To this very day, every time I buy a pair of shoes or a new piece of apparel. I always think about that one pair of Nikes, my father worked his ass off to be able to provide me when we didn't have a lot. For me Nike, is a privilege and a reward to myself for hard work. I grew up being in love with that brand and how much hard work went to be able to afford it. Though with that being said, this story or realization doesn't have anything to do with a pair of Nikes. On Friday night, a few friends and I went out to dinner at a "nice" restaurant in downtown Bogota. We were under dressed but we had an appetite and were ready to put a long week behind us and celebrate with a good meal. Right away, we ordered a bottle of wine along with a few appetizers. For my main course, I ordered a salmon and a side of vegetables. This was by all means, one of the more "fancier" meals I had enjoyed in a long time. We finished dinner and went on with our night. Fast forward to the next day. A friend and I decided to make an afternoon trip to hike up Monserrate which I've done four times prior already during my time here. The hike is only about a mile and a half and takes about 35 minutes if you can resist stopping every few hundred steps to turn around and take in the incredible views of the city behind you. Once you reach the top, there is a church that is actually holding service with their doors open, accepting of tourists and locals just alike. A strip of shop vendors line a path, while a few restaurants scatter throughout the area. You have three options to get back down. One is my train and a second by gondola lift. Third being, walking back down. We typically opt of the train down. When you arrive at Monserrate, on street level just before you begin your hike. You see a row of vendors serving everything from water, gatorade, street food and fresh fruit. On the four trips prior to yesterdays trip, we have always finished the trip by purchasing a single cup of orange juice. Not just any regular cup of orange juice either. This is fresh squeezed right before you. Made on demand. And until yesterday, while I had always enjoyed the juice. Never had really taken notice of just how much hard work goes in to just that one cup. There are maybe 5 or 6 vendors at the base of Monserrate and all for the most part sell the same things, including the fresh squeezed OJ. The first time I hiked Monserrate, we got there around 5:30am. These vendors were already there. Ready and waiting for the early birds and another round of tourists looking to take in the day. On this most recent trip, there was only two of us. I took a chance and scooted to the rear of this booth to get a better idea of just what the process entailed. One lady, surrounded by a pile of oranges, cutting and squeezing each and every one by herself. No fancy machine or blender. Just a knife and a few pieces of tupperware. Two 12oz cups of OJ must have taken about 13-15 oranges. It was in that moment, I realized that the entire drive there, the hike up, the accent down. I was really only wanting one thing. That fresh squeezed cup of orange juice. It meant more to me than the "fancy" dinner the night before. I saw what it took to make that one cup. This lady (name unknown) gets there before anyone else and doesn't leave until the last hiker leaves. She cuts and cuts, presses and squeezes all day. She could probably get by with just selling bottled orange juice but how boring would that be for us. Not until I stepped back to watch her that I realized that more so than ever in my life. I am finding that I enjoy the simple things more and more. However, this is not a moment of guilt for enjoying the nice dinners or the nike apparel. It is me simply realizing that while those things are nice. Nothing really beats the simple things. Because even behind just a "simple" cup of orange juice, there is someone working hard to provide that for you and provide for themselves. Someone working hard to maybe provide that something that means so much to someone else.
-CM, 150215.
