When We Try To Love
I think I love you from Xiya Lan on Vimeo.
Reflections
Down Time In Chiang Mai
Down time is lovely…and necessary. Ensconsed in my Thai style guesthouse by the Ping Rver, I connected my little bluetooth speakers… listening to Lou Reed’s “Perfect Day” and of course Leonard Cohen who always puts me in a reflective mood.
There is a song…”you take the weather with you.” You are already “home.” The place doesn’t matter. You just have to put yourself somewhere. But I can’t imagine being in one place year round without getting out periodically and meeting strangers on the road who are on the same wavelength and who I’d never meet otherwise. Intimacy is anywhere there are people. And people tend to share more personal with people who they think they probably won’t see ever again. However I’ve had more than my share of serendipity coincidences meeting people again in another country.
Requires a little travel money. And mobility. With a little heart thrown in. But even in a wheelchair airports are manageable. Give a little tip to the employee who whisks you right through security and immigration and to the gate. And to the restroom or ATM and whatever else. Even to the next terminal. Even up to the plane in a hydaulic lift if you need it. Along with all the ancient and infirm Chinese ladies!
One of the most inspirational experiences I’ve ever had was meeting an 80 year old Russian Jew from NYC with a cane in the mountains of southern China visiting the Miao people who nearly fell getting out of the van. Said once a year he goes somewhere. I blessed his heart.
Anarchy
My New T-Shirt
The inverse reality of anarchy is that we must continually question ourselves as well as authority. The strongest survival instinct is self deception because the illusion of our identity depends on it. What we believe about ourselves does not necessarily reflect who we are. So beliefs can be a prison. It isn’t always comfortable to look ourselves in the eye. But this is where ethical behavior originates. Not from authority telling us how to behave.
Thoughts Upon Turning 72
After retirement in 2002 I traveled 4 years nonstop and then just wanted to stay put in one place where I could make some good friends and really dig into one culture other than the one I was born in…the U.S.
I have lived in Oaxaca nearly 10 years but going back and forth to Thailand and Hong Kong where 2 of my sons live about once a year or so. I am still torn much of the time.
When I am in the states I just want OUT!
If I am in Mexico too long I start thinking “what am I doing here?” But now that I have a back problem I’m leery of long haul flights. But the thought of living in Mexico for the rest of my life without going anywhere else is terrifying and I get the feeling my life is nearly over. I guess it comes to that no matter where you live. My couchsurfers are saving my life. They bring the world to me.
When I am in Mexico too long, I miss Thailand and can’t wait to get back! When I am in Thailand with my friends there I feel like I am at “home.” I get tired of Mexican food and taking care of my apartment in Mexico but two weeks after I get to Thailand I want a hand made corn tortilla. And coming back to Oaxaca is coming back “home” too!
Then I miss my friends in both places! Only friends who live where you do really understand what it is like to live there. I have an entirely different relationship with the locals most of whom in either place have never even traveled.
Then I want to discover other places. Took a RTW about 3 years ago (which is actually much cheaper than a RT) from:
MX>Oregon>HK>BKK (4months)>OMAN (1 week)>Turkey (1 month)>NYC>Oregon>MX. It was tiring but exhilarating and I felt so alive!
A friend says: “Starting to feel the finality of all my endeavours at my age, I am really torn sometimes! Sentimental journeys or following curiosity?” She is lucky to live somewhere where it is not so expensive and so far to get to somewhere else.
We must keep going…elegantly surfing the tenuous space between lobotomized serenity and recklessness. It probably doesn’t matter much what we do. We take ourselves with us wherever we go.
My Problem With Facebook
I like to keep in touch. Connection
I hate small talk.
I wanna talk about atoms,
death, aliens, sex, magic, intellect,
the meaning of life, faraway galaxies,
the lies you’ve told, your flaws, your
favorite scents, your childhood, what keeps
you up at night, your security and
fears…I like people with depth,
who speak with emotion from
A twisted mind.
Sometimes it happens!
Respect
Having spent three months in Oregon and Las Vegas, I have become so much more aware of the cultural differences between the north American first world and Mexico.
The first Americans were independent and forward looking. They were looking to expand and were aggressive. Their primary value is freedom and personal space. Mexicans on the other hand were subjugated for hundreds of years by the Spanish. Their primary value is respect.
Whenever a person enters the space of a Mexican individual, for example getting into a taxi, unless you greet them they will feel you are rude. Instead of just jumping in and issuing an order you say “Buenas Tardes, Senor.”
While in a restaurant, any time you pass by a table you say “Buen Provecho.” Any time you want to walk through or pass by people you say “Con Permiso.” Needing a waiter to come to your table you call “Joven!” (Young man) or Senorita (young woman.)
The smiles you get are warm and welcoming. It’s a lovely way to live.
Salem Coffee House Easter
Three weeks has turned into three months in Oregon. Rain alternating with sun and hail. That’s the NW.
The CT scan, what I came up here for, showed esophageal varicies but the endoscopy didn’t. Hmmm. So more medical follow up.
Old renter moving out April 11 and I get to move into my house! Being in that little trailer at the farm with my son is getting crowded. New renter moves in May 14. Will sort and sell and give away most of my shit. Got a storage unit for stuff I can’t part with…yet. In the meantime I am coordinating contractors for yard work, roof repair, painting of the house etc. etc. before it falls down. I might need it someday.
So I’m in my little funky but cozy coffee shop with wifi where I go to every morning. Same people, sitting in the same seats…a group of about 8 retired guys sitting together for half the day and sometimes longer. They peruse the newspapers and comment. Seems like we live here. They ignore me. Curious and unusual. I wonder where the wives are. I think they think they are in a man cave. I think they are!
Starbucks?
Outside on the sidewalk is a reader board says “Because You Can Never Find A Starbucks When You Need One.” There are two Starbucks around the corner in the same block where the shop lets the homeless hang out to keep warm…occasionally coffee in hand. Having lived here for 35 years and having been the manager of a homeless program at a two- county nonprofit, I’ve never seen so many panhandlers on downtown streets. But I only give cigarettes to the mentally ill ones who are obviously off their meds…hoping it will be soothing to them.
In the meantime reverse culture shock is hitting me in the face again. You would think I would be beyond this by now.
I keep running into first world rules and regs! Got a $20 ticket for parking less than a foot over the white line. But that’s nothing compared to the hijacking of my car in a hospital parking structure because by law you can’t drive for 12 hours after anesthesia and I had to get a hotel room just because my 12 hours were up at 7:30pm but couldn’t get the parking ticket validated because the office closed at 5! F+++++g police state! Slap me silly if I complain about Mexico again!
And last year I got a $200 ticket for turning right when a pedestrian still had 2 steps to get out of the cross walk on the other side!
A traveling friend describes it as an “invisible barrier that sometimes leads to invisible, but sometimes even open conflict.” Yep! Coming or going. Culture shock is always worst for me coming back…not going. It’s just that I really notice these things more when I return because they feel so personally restrictive. I always breathe a sigh of relief when I get off the plane in Mexico or SE Asia. I thought by now I’d be beyond all this! NOT!
And another thing! I’m done with hearing “how was your day” and “have a great day” 50 times a day! Does NOT put me in a good mood! And I’m done with cold and rain. Think it’s time to go home.
I do love the NW and of course that’s the thing about culture shock. You are in one place and want to be in the other too.
Travel Is A Drug
The traveler’s high. You’ve no doubt felt it, upon disembarking in a realm where all is unfamiliar. Travel is a drug. It reboots reality, tweaks the senses, and becomes addictive.
I crave total autonomy, and shy away from responsibility and attachment. Every morning I arise I still breath a sigh of relief that I don’t have to be anywhere…no meetings, no phone calls…except catching that bus or train or plane. I still hate the phone. And my hand goes to sleep.
Since retirement, I like to be alone…to travel alone…free to serendipitously connect on the deepest levels in the moment. No assumptions made. No mindless chatter. No history of each other to color the here and now. No one trying to grease my purchase of a donut with “how is your day going!”
Being an expat is a luxury. No one expects you to adhere to local customs and expectations. You are released from and are free of the social expectations of the country you came from. This is as free as anyone could ever expect to be and still live in the world.
But expatriate urges aren’t just about yearning to be unencumbered, or a distaste for any particular culture, or even the lure of a particular place’s attractions.
What we expats crave, at heart, is the exhilarating thrill of foreignness. We take delight in molding ourselves as a square peg in a round country. In forever being the outsider with the ability to constantly transcend and recreate the self…indeed to come to know the self.
Rewriting Marilyn Monroe
Only parts of us will ever
touch only parts of others.
One’s own truth is just that really —
One’s own truth.
We can only share
The part that is understood –
Acceptable to the other —
Therefore one is for the most part
Alone.
As it is meant to be
Evidently-in nature.
At best though
Perhaps it could make
Our understanding seek
Another’s loneliness out.
Mexicans and Americans
LOL
A boat was docked in a tiny Mexican fishing village.
A tourist complimented the local fishermen on the quality of their fish and… asked how long it took to catch them.
“Not very long” they answered in unison.
“Why didn’t you stay out longer and catch more?”
The fishermen explained that their small catches were sufficient to meet their needs and those of their families.
“But what do you do with the rest of your time?”
“We sleep late, fish a little, play with our children, and take siestas with our wives. In the evenings, we go into the village to see our friends, have a few drinks, play the guitar, and sing a few songs.
We have a full life.”The tourist interrupted, “I have an MBA from Harvard and I can help you! You should start by fishing longer every day. You can then sell the extra fish you catch. With the extra revenue, you can buy a bigger boat.”
“And after that?”
“With the extra money the larger boat will bring, you can buy a second one and a third one and so on until you have an entire fleet of trawlers.
Instead of selling your fish to a middle man, you can then negotiate directly with the processing plants and maybe even open your own plant. You can then leave this little village and move to Mexico City, Los Angeles, or even New York City!!! From there you can direct your huge new enterprise.”“How long would that take?”
“Twenty, perhaps twenty-five years.” replied the tourist.
“And after that?”
“Afterwards? Well my friend, that’s when it gets really interesting,” answered the tourist, laughing. “When your business gets really big, you can start buying and selling stocks and make millions!”
“Millions? Really? And after that?” asked the fishermen.
“After that you’ll be able to retire, live in a tiny village near the coast, sleep late, play with your children, catch a few fish, take a siesta with your wife and spend your evenings drinking and enjoying your friends.”
“With all due respect sir, but that’s exactly what we are doing now. So what’s the point wasting twenty-five years?” asked the Mexicans.
And the moral of this story is:
Know where you’re going in life, you may already be there!
Found on Facebook
Laughingnomad 