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

It was stronger than I.

As usual, Jordan was creative at the meeting and took me for a walk to a small festival on the streets of a residential neighborhood.

Food stalls, local artists exhibit, children’s recreation and various performances by buskers. After some coffee to warm us up, while we were taking a look at an artist’s stall, he grabbed my hand and pulled me onto a more deserted street that was behind the fair. I had already understood that Canadians are more reserved when it comes to showing affection.

The last time I’d sneaked to kiss someone, I was in sixth grade. He smiled and hugged me bringing his body and his lips close to me. Once again, his gaze at that moment assured me that all was well again. Everything was fine as it always had been. Time stopped again and we kissed. He may not have noticed, but my voice trembled as I uttered I missed him in the last few weeks.

After that, I was attracted by the sound of a harmonica and we went into a bar where a Japanese guy in a blue kimono performed with a local jazz band. That was one of the most interesting musical performances I’ve ever seen.

After almost an hour watching the Japanese performance, we took the shuttle home. On the bus, he held my hand and squeezed it tightly. He seemed to want to keep the touch of my skin in his memory. I stared at him infinitely. I wanted to picture his smile in my mind forever and I succeeded. Those seconds are still alive in my mind and I can “press the play button” of my memory at any moment.

Ifound Jordan’s invitation to go to a church a little unusual, but I had been trying hard not to judge people since a few months ago.

When we reached the corner, after leaving an unorthodox cult, he interrupted me when I was speaking and made me hurry.

- This is the train – he told me opening the VLT door.

In a hurry, he directed me into the vehicle and stood outside when the door closed. I understood nothing at all and only managed to cry as he smiled from the sidewalk and waved at me. I wanted to say goodbye, I wanted to say so many things. It was so unexpected and violent for me that I cried. I cried so much I felt tears streaming down my neck and wetting my lap.

He texted me immediately saying that someone had honked at us at my boarding time. I didn’t pay attention and just asked why he didn’t say goodbye.

- We don’t need to say goodbye, if we’ll see each other again.

I wanted to believe that was true, but my mind only believed I was being rejected once again.

I arrived at Suelen’s apartment with an ocean of feelings trapped in my chest. She asked how the meeting was, but realized I wasn’t ready to talk. Using her natural and tender sensitivity, she allowed me to be silent.

I grabbed the laptop and started dumping the words on the keyboard. The more I wrote, the more I cried. Suelen seemed to hug me from afar while she was in the kitchen. As a wise old woman, even without looking at me, she could understand everything I felt.

When I finished the text, I closed the computer and we both looked at each other. I took a deep breath, dried my tears, and showed her my text.

After, I sent that letter to the correct address: Jordan’s.

I was leaving for Scotland, I had nothing to lose by saying everything I felt. Besides, I knew nothing would change my plans that moment. I just wanted to let him know what that uncommitted relationship provoked in me.

Jordan didn’t answer it.

One day before I left Canada, I went to Lake Ontario shores, near the port where the ships leave for Toronto Island. I’d meet two friends there, but I arrived a few hours earlier.

I cried watching the ducks glide through the freezing water and decided to break the silence with Felipe after three months. I went to a coffee shop and made a voice call. He didn’t know that I had decided to travel without a destination yet. He certainly believed I would be in Toronto for a few months and maybe I’d try the immigration process.

We had a very nice and mature conversation. I told him about my plan to travel the world and said I’d like him to know that from me. I could tell by his voice that he was being sincere when he wished me a safe trip.

- I thought you could go on a trip like this, Paula. This has a lot to do with you and your free spirit. You know I’d never do something like that and I admire your courage a lot – Felipe said tenderly and honestly.

We talked about forgiveness and I was thrilled to say that I had finally managed to look at him as another human being, trying to be happy. He also cried and thanked me for unblocking his number and talking to him.

- I care about you, Paula. You can always count on me – he said after asking me to be careful.

The next day, Suelen and I had a conversation about self-confidence a few hours before my flight.

I told her that my mind was trying hard to convince me that Jordan had just had fun with me. That he treated me well just to make sure I’d said yes when he invited me to the next meeting.

My brain was trained to think no one could like me. It made me believe everyone would get bored and leave me at some point. So I’d act in a way to make this happen, reinforcing the belief that my fate was to be rejected, always.

She tried to convince me once again that this theory didn’t seem to apply to Jordan.

– Paula, you are beautiful, smart and fun. Why wouldn’t he like you? Instead, I’d be saying to myself “I’m so amazing and the boy is so into me that he’s scared of getting too attached”.

Rationally, I could understand that, but that wasn’t how I felt. Nevertheless, at that moment, I made a deal with her, and especially with myself, to change these beliefs and work on my self-esteem.

Suelen and I hugged each other in the elevator and we both cried. We were interrupted by a neighbor who entered before we got to the ground floor. I couldn’t be more grateful for those two months of support and love, for all the impactful conversations we had, for the delicious laughs and especially for the honesty and warmth.

I got into the Uber car and kept her words with me:

- I can’t imagine anything bad happening to you. I’m really sure you will have a beautiful trip.

A week after I landed in Scotland, our friendship began to crumble and this is the biggest emptiness Toronto has given me.

Icrossed the Atlantic Ocean on the night of June 28, 2018. After a long and tiring connection in Halifax, the plane finally took off for Europe. I smiled at the full moon watching me through the white window and fell asleep quickly. As the sunlight began to color the sky pink and lilac, I spotted Scotland rock formations bathed by the sea and heard my heart say: this is happening. Your dream is coming true right now.

Stephen, my second Couchsurfing host, had sent me his home address the night before and told me he’d be at work when I arrived, but the door would be open.

We texted each other and he apologized for not accommodating me directly in the room, as the two German guests would leave the house only in the afternoon. I told him not to worry, after all I was so tired I’d pass out on the first couch I found on my way.

When I got into the living room, I had a big surprise. Stephen had left a bed ready on the floor. I threw myself on that inflatable mattress with clean and comfortable sheets, I was truly thankful. I mentally thanked him a hundred times. I took a warm shower that felt like a welcoming hug and then I fell asleep.

I woke up a few hours later, walked through the neighborhood, and bought some stuff to prepare dinner to thank my host. Stephen was already home when I arrived from the market.