Waiting under the fig tree.

Yes, I will forever reference the fig tree analogy. Sue me.

I told ChatGPT that I am in a writing slump-which is true, and it recommended me to set a 10-minute timer and type whatever comes to my mind. It is funny how I could not think of this on my own, and how I needed ChatGPT to steer me into some kind of path, to dive me some direction…

The truth is, I am kind of lacking that in life. Direction, I mean. I am lacking direction. But Andrea, one may say, you just finished your bachelor’s, got accepted into a master’s program, and moved into your dream apartment. How can you be lacking direction? To answer this, I need to make a distinction. One thing is to follow “logical, natural” steps in life, and another thing is to find your own path. Right now, I would say I am following this logic, natural steps and using them as a buffer, or as a mattress I can turn into a cozy bed further down the line.

I cannot help to think about my girl Sylvia and her beloved fig tree when I ponder my life choices. I am 24 years young. I am smart, opinionated, curious, fun, dramatic, passionate, and free. I am the first woman in my direct lineage to finish university, to start a master’s degree, to live alone. So yes, I want to entertain this path a little bit longer. I would not say this is direction, because I have not fully figured out where I want this to end, or when. I am simply enjoying the life my woman ancestors dreamed of having. No man, no kids, endless possibilities. And I mean it. My great-grandma was married by the time she was 15 to a 30-year-old man and bore four kids. My grandma gave up her dream of travelling the world when she was about 20-something. Even though she lived a partially happy life, I know she was not fulfilled. She wanted more, but she settled. And my mum, well, life has not been easy on her. She grew wings as a child, but they were cut off way too early. A beautiful bird that never got to fly, to be free. All of them were bound to the same city, where we were all born and raised. All of them tried to escape, yet none could. Fortunately, despite all odds, I found a way to fly.

I was not sure of what I was doing when I left Lima, but I knew I had to. I knew my life was somewhere far away, maybe even happening without me, waiting for me to join. I remember crying on my first Rotterdam night, August third, 2022, thinking what have I done??? Little did I know I had made the best choice of my life so far. My world opened from there, and unlike Sylvia, a big, beautiful, ripe, purple fig fell into my hand. I realised I had finally caught up, and that my life was no longer happening somewhere far away without me, but I was living it. I was scared to eat the fig at first. It was the first time I was trying one. The ones that had fallen back in Lima remained not eaten, never tasted, rotted and forgotten. I was not sure if I would like the taste of it, so it took me a while to try it. I examined it extensively- its colour, shape, texture. I read books and articles and magazines about what this fig fruit could offer. I observed it as the days passed, building courage, hoping it would not rot before I decided to try it.

It took me 14 months to try the fig, and I fucking loved it.

It tasted like independence, courage, and softness. It was filled with passion, electricity and late nights, with hints of sweat and intuition.

For a long time, I thought that was the only fig I would ever try. It felt like it, like this was all it, you know? I was on an obvious path, an academic one. That naive student life, with no real responsibilities beyond studying and passing my classes. Life was easy, endless, and directionless in the best way possible. Life without a clear sense of direction can be fun! There is freedom in knowing nothing is set, and that I can change my path whenever I want to. There is freedom in knowing that this is my life, and I am the one who decides what I make with it. But here is the catch: the longer you entertain something, the harder it is to leave it.

I often think about the path I am entertaining now as a very comfortable zone. Yes, there is freedom in not knowing but it was also chaotic, and I need some kind of anchor to keep me grounded. Academia is my anchor. And to be honest, I don’t mind it. Most of my friends dream about being done studying, and I fear the moment I stop. Maybe it is the researcher in me that wants to get her PhD, maybe it is the gifted child in me who learned that the only way to get validation is through academia, maybe it is the teenager in me that fears becoming a real adult… Maybe it is all of them. And maybe it is none. Maybe it is the girl inside me who is curious as fuck, who wants to learn and know everything there is to life, or that angsty teenager that wanted to better understand the world around her… Maybe it’s all of them, maybe it’s none.

My fig tree is blooming, and I can see a fig ripening at the tip of a branch. I can tell it will fill fall into my hands shortly, and this time it won’t take me that long to try it, but the waiting is killing me.

I see it up there, hanging and swinging from the branch. I look up to it, fantasising about how it will taste like. Sometimes I feel like I want to grab it, but I remind myself that figs don’t ripen after being picked from the tree. If harvested too early, the flavour and sweetness of it will be underdeveloped and never reach its full potential.

Patience is one of the biggest virtues in life, my grandma used to tell me.

ps- I did not write this in 10 minutes.