Paula Brukmüller - Flowers from Greece - The Autobiography of the Journalist Who Turned a Personal Tragedy into an Inspiring World Tour

Pamela had not slept in the bedroom and we made love all night long. I can remember the temperature of his hands caressing my belly as he insanely kissed my belly button. My silver bracelet dangled from the iron headboard of the bed making a soft bell sound. Outside I could hear the pool waterfall and the birds chirping as they drifted from tree to tree at dawn.

- Fuck it, I’ll be with you one more day here at Koh Phi Phi, – Cristián said, looking deep into my eyes, before another hungry kiss.

- Boats will probably stop for the next two days because of the storm – I said as I reached for my cell phone under my pillow to check the calendar and think of a solution for us. I wish I had never reached the device. His brother’s message ruined our plans.

- Come with me to Vietnam! – he asked me as he dressed quickly.

- I don’t have a visa or a plane ticket. I don’t even have time to organize my things and pay for the room now – I said.

- I want to see you again – he told me after a long, intense kiss by the pool.

- Me too – I said wrapped in the beach towel, not worrying about the guests who were already sunbathing in the pool.

When Cristián disappeared, my heart seemed to shrink at a fast pace. I felt that it would disappear within my chest at any moment.

I stepped into the cold shower to shake off the anguish that suddenly flooded me. Three nights ago I was running away from him on the beach and now I couldn’t breathe thinking I’d never see him again. The best thing about all this was having two jobs to occupy my head in the next few days. Working at the bar and on the boat, I guaranteed 900 Bahts a day. It was more money than I needed and it would keep me very active.

I spent the afternoon cleaning ashtrays, collecting empty glasses and cans and helping tourists with diving masks, life jackets, stand up paddleboards and kayaks. The next day the tour would be suspended.

The work on the boat was the best I could have found. I loved talking about the Viking Cave and surprise the tourists with the real information about the place. Most think the place is protected by a rare Southeast Asian bird whose stools are worth a lot of money. In fact, it is not the feces, but the nest of swiftlets, made of solidified saliva, which is one of the most expensive dishes in the world. A kilo of this delicacy can cost more than $2.5 in the United States and Europe.

When I returned from the bar the next morning, Cristián was already in Hanoi, the capital of Vietnam, and sent me a romantic reggaeton. I listened more than five times before going to bed. “Qué más pues. Sigo aquí pensando en que rico fue, en que rico fue.” [22] What else then. I’m still here thinking about how good it was, how good it was. The message spoke of the noise of the bed crashing against the wall and the words I said in his ear. He had discovered the map to drive me completely insane: He chose a song to make me relive our burning nights at Phi Phi.

- I got crazy for you, I keep thinking about the times we made love – he said.

- I will apply for my visa to Vietnam. Talk to you tomorrow – I said before falling asleep, listening once again to my new favorite song.

His bedroom was completely dark when we entered. The floor was as cold as the air conditioner eased the pain in his feet after a night of dancing. Guided by his hands on my hip, I climbed to the top bed of what I thought was a bunk bed. We tried to speak quietly, but I couldn’t control the laughter. I was about to have sex in a shared room. Good thing it was dark and no one could see us.

When I woke up the next day, I couldn’t find my cell phone or my money, much less my panties. I laughed at myself. With the light streaming through the cracks in the curtains, it was possible to see more than 20 bunk beds.

We had a fruit shake together and Cristián seemed completely different from the seductive guy on New Year’s Eve. He had an innocent smile and looked at me curiously now.

- How old are you? – I asked, already wondering if I would name another younger man on my list of flags.

- 27 and you?

- Guess – I didn’t want to tell him that I was ten years older and was traveling the world and having sex in shared rooms, like a 20-year-old girl.

- 25?

- Thank you, but it’s far from it. Put another 12 years there – I revealed, placing my self-judgment in the fuck-it mental box.

- No way! What is the secret? – he asked, amazed.

- Be happy.

That same night, Cristián arrived at the bar with a wide smile. After kissing me, he closed his eyes and threw his head back smiling.

- Hey, you won’t believe what I have for you! – He picked up the phone and opened a black and white photo.

- What is it? – I was trying to understand the image of a security camera when he put his finger on one of the beds.

- We had some paparazzi yesterday. There was a camera in my dorm! – he laughed. – But don’t worry, it’s impossible to identify us.

- Holy shit! That should be illegal! – I snapped, my other hand over my mouth trying to control my concern. – Did they give you the video?

- No. They just let me take this picture to show you. – He picked up the phone and pulled me against his chest. – Don’t worry, I swear they can’t tell who’s having fun.

I could only laugh at the situation.

That night we walked around the island laughing after we smoked my friends’ joint in the sand of the beach.

- Someone tells my mother that I have succeeded in life. Now I’m a porn star in Thailand – I paraded with open arms as he applauded me. We stopped every three steps to kiss and laugh at the love story we could tell our children in the future.

- What a beautiful story for a first date! The most beautiful of all – he cheered as I writhed in my stomach with so much laughter.

That night he went to my favela .

The train stopped at Huê station at 7am, but I had no internet to confirm my suspicions. I had been traveling for almost two days and the plan was to meet Cristián in the late afternoon in Hói An, the next city on the train route. I had a hunch and asked the friendly Vietnamese who shared the cabin with me to share the data service package from her cell phone.

- My train has stopped in Huê. Can I get down here? – I sent the message, praying that he would respond in time.

- I just got here. Where are you? – he said, and I didn’t even stop to reason it, I grabbed my backpack and jumped off the train, which closed the door immediately behind me. When I found myself without the internet again I wondered if “here” he meant in Huê or Hói An.

I found a guesthouse outside the station and asked them to use the wifi. This time I called to be sure of my next steps. We were less than two kilometers away and I just wondered how my intuition was getting sharper.

Cristián had just got off a night bus and was with his brother and a friend, taking three motorcycles.

I paid for a shower at the inn, had a black coffee, and waited for my ride outside. Sitting on the train station steps with my backpacks, I was bursting with happiness and had time to make a very rational conversation with myself before the blue and white scooter pulled up in front of me.

- Paula, you are here because you chose to be. Even though Cristián showed enthusiasm, you came because you wanted to come. It may be that things don’t go as you expect. It may be that over the days he’s not this nice guy you painted in just three nights. He may not like you. You may not like him. A thousand things can happen and yet it will be alright. You will never blame him if he doesn’t correspond to your feelings because it was you who chose to travel to another country to be with a guy you don’t really know.