I still keep a personal journal, though I write in it much less I once did. In Atlanta I don't write in it for months at a time...probably because one month looks frighteningly similar to the last...so there is nothing to say.
I will not reproduce the pages of my journal, but I will put a fairly interesting excerpt here:
"I am feeling more distant now, at least sufficiently so to forget a little.
My clothes and fingernails are dirty. My stomach is full and I napped today an hour and a half after the 10 hour bus trip. A nice taxi driver drove me around the town to help me find a hostal. Most are full for the week of Semana Santa.
I gave him a 66 cent tip, which almost doubled the original fare....he seemed very happy. I am happy he didn't try to extort money from me after not driving directly to the destination. It has happened before (Morocco). I find Peruvians largely honest and straightforward.
Tonight there is a procession (parade) in the Plaza in celebration of something. I think I will grab a seat next to the fountain with several beers and be entertained. That group from Huacachina is in town too. I'm sure they'll be around somewhere. I just saw that Spaniard from Barcelona walk by. No doubt he will be stoned this evening.
Last night I couldn't get on the tourist bus. It was full. I took the cramped half-broken, smelly one with the Peruvians instead. Miles from anywhere up a dirt road, taking dinner past 11pm at a restaurant with no foreigners and no recognizable food......I realized that I want to feel far away. The further away from my regular life, the better.
I met an American in Nazca. He annoyed the shit out of me. His demeanor, though perfectly cordial, reminded me of the functional pleasantries and comfortable distance we often maintain in the US. It is practical and cold.
He was probably someone who has his "shit together" back home. Do I act like that?
It annoyed me to have to think about it, and to be reminded of what I had left. I speak to every Peruvian that passes, that sits near me, asking about their politics, religion, their children...whatever. I enjoy it.
I remember in Taiwan I told Peter...we were talking about what we really wanted (whatever that is)...he goes on about someting big, passionate, and dreamy...and I said, "I just want to be left alone.."
I've always held that sentiment in some way. I don't think I meant left alone by people so much...although that is likely part of it.
I think I meant a reprieve, or even escape, from the constant silent demands of modern life...they tell me how to behave...what to like...what to wear...how much time I have to be me...what I should value...when I wake up...how much I sleep...it is all mapped out for me...with precious little room for what I want...only little corners as yet unasked for are still mine. I'm sure one day they will be asked for too.
I can't escape the feeling that I live off the scraps of my own life.
As I watch the children feed the pigeons in the Plaza, the old cars labor by on cobblestone streets, old men eating ice creams, pan flute playing in the background, thousands of miles from my life......I am always tempted to try to take it back."
Posted by kelliottdykes at March 24, 2005 04:07 PMBeautiful thoughts and observations.
Posted by: Dad at March 25, 2005 03:57 PMHey Ell, I just took a procrastination break to catch up on your website.
I remember there was a time when I got jealous if you went somewhere that I didn't. It was like a competition for me. It was so hard for me to know that you were in Nepal and I was on my way to watch some squirrels for a few months.
Now, I don't need to be there, to be there. If that makes any sense. I can close my eyes for a moment, while sitting in a stale library, and be right there next to you on that crowded, sweaty, 10 hour bus ride. I can remember vividly our conversations, many of them, when I would go off into some unachievable, but for me acheivable dream, and you would just say,,,I want to be left alone. And, I remember how frustrated I would get in trying to tell you how you could do anything you wanted. You would just smile.
I also remember the times when you questioned everything. Hours and hours or why? what for? etc.
Have a blast and I'll see you in Atlanta on the 10th. We have a cocktail party at some rich person's house on the 11th. See, all those dreams came true.
Hugs,
P
Posted by: Peter at March 26, 2005 06:45 PMI'd forgotten how hard travel can be....and although I agree that you might be able to imagine the 10 hour cramped, dirty bus ride.....there is a mindset that goes along with it that disappears in regular life.
That is what you can't imagine...and I'd forgotten about it too.
There is something so present and visceral about travel that has no parallel in our normal life.....so it disappears altogether when you're not doing it.
That is why I took the vacation....not to see another place....but to remind myself.
Posted by: elliott at March 26, 2005 08:21 PM