Editor’s note: This post was born of a serendipitous chain of Twitter-based messages stemming from the author’s inquiry about kombucha. So without further ado, I present the heartwarming tale of the random noble path and kombucha healing from writer and adventurer, Pablo Godoy. Enjoy!
We don’t see things as they are, we see them as we are. – Anais Nin
A few months ago I started a journey in Salt Lake City that landed me in Buenos Aires, via Sao Paulo and Mexico.
From there I continued moving, arriving at what is now my “home-base” away from home, the colonial, vibrant and full of life city of Salto in northern Uruguay. The city where my grandparents and theirs before them settled in when arriving from Brazil, Russia and Spain and mingling with the locals. Hence me being such a mutt, I’ve earned it.
So far it has been an incredible trip, meeting new people at every corner, discovering amazing wine for $4 a bottle and superb food for cheaper, all against the backdrop of amazing views.
While traveling I’ve decided to learn more about modern day slavery, work on my own project about that (will tell you at some point I promise) and leave room in life to surprise me. Well, when not every second of your day is planned, when there journey IS the destination, then life has room to show you a thing or two.
I was on twitter (back off, I gave up my cell phone, my cell phone!!! while here, I need a little something) through a series of twitter-twatter ended up talking to @MOMBUCHA about kombucha. I was intrigued about the tea (it is a tea) and upon further inquiry @MOMBUCHA sent me a very useful link with information about the brewing of the tea and pictures (very important to the story, wait for it…)
While looking at the pictures I had a sudden spark of memory (its mostly gone, my memory that is) and remembered seeing kombucha before: in MY house. Well, then the memory unraveled itself in front of my eyes. When I was about 6 or 7 years old, my grandpa was dying of cancer. I remember he would drink some of the tea. So I talked to my mom about it and sure enough. She told me that he did drink the tea till he died as it was the one thing that provided him with nutrients, vitamins, hydration without also “feeding” his cancer cells as his doctor said.
That turned into a whole conversation about grandpa, about how my sister and me were the ones in charge of brewing the kombucha for him. Above that, was a great chance for me and my mom to talk about grandpa, his humor, his temper, etc.
Yes, it all started with a twitter exchange.
I also found out that kombucha is quite common here for medicinal purposes or just as a health drink. So, I am on the kombucha wagon and you should give it a look, the @MOMBUCHA website is a good start, take a look: http://mombucha.com.
My point here is that little unexpected exchanges, even when across the world, can be meaningful, we all have a message for each other, it’s just a matter of listening. It might be the person you run into the store twice in one night, the guy looking at you (not the creepy one, the other one), the sign on the side of the road, the tweet you just read.
BE ready for the message, open your eyes and ears with me and we will hear, see and feel, that every little thing in life, is designed as signposts to lead us where we belong: living a better, higher LIFE.
Story and photos by Pablo Godoy.