It all started with a fork.
Alone and sick in Cuzco and being forced to move to a new hostel, I wasn’t feeling particularly social. I journeyed down the hill and found a small comedor where I ordered something to go, determined to hide in my room. But the comedor didn’t have any plastic utensils, so when I got back to the hostel I sought out a fork from the shared kitchen area and promptly crept up the rickety stairs back to my room.
Overcome with exhaustion, I decided to just go ahead and pack first thing in the morning rather than that night, but figured washing the fork and returning it to its rightful place would be the decent thing to do. I headed for the sink in the courtyard outside the kitchen, and that is where I encountered Martin.
Tall and lean, his North American accent hid his true origins – part Argentine, raised in Colombia – as he kindly offered to wash my fork for me. And then, so naturally that I can’t even begin to trace the thread, we crafted a discussion about life, the universe, and everything.
Martin does not believe in coincidences, and he does believe in God. Some time ago, a pivotal event in his life was the catalyst that led him to dispose of his belongings and focus his efforts on truly living one day at a time, with intention, with connection.
By and large, I find myself a bit awkward around very religious people, as I had very little religion in my own upbringing and therefore feel out of my element. One of the remarkable things about Martin, however, is that I found his discourse on spirituality not at all discomforting, and so when he and his Colombian travel companion, Joel, offered to share some tea with me, I gladly accepted, and found that in this moment a cup of tea was not just a cup of tea. It was too perfect that I had just finished the book Three Cups of Tea; of course Martin would say that these things happen for a reason. Somehow, I had the vague impression that this was not the first cup of tea I’d had with Martin and Joel, and I do not think it will be the last.
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