One thing that's really keeping me going is the idea of settling in. Most of the time, when I travel, its totally out of my suitcase. I'm constantly changing locations, lugging a duffle bag down broken sidewalks, and its always raining or so cold. But in Ecuador, I'll drag my big brown suitcase and hiking backpack to my host family's car or a bus, drag it to my room, and never have to pick it up again. I'm bringing the backpack for side trips and stuff like that, but the suitcase is on its last legs anyway, and it'll be so nice just to stick it in a corner or under the bed and not have to worry about constantly keeping things folded and my muddy shoes away from that one clean shirt. Also, laundry will be nice. Also, there will probably be a maid.
Another aspect that's not bad at all has been saying goodbye to people. That sounds sad, but its not really. Not usually. Because I'm away so much, and most of my friends lead equally fantastically active lives, its hard to cross paths very often. However, I pull the south america card hardcore, and people bend to my wishes. And by that I mean we go out to dinner or play trivial persuit in the sun, or just lay around and talk. I've gotten to a lot of the people I value the most in the world, people I grew up with who made me who I am, in the last few weeks, and that has really been a blessing.
I just used "blessing." and the other day I mentioned "mercy." Maybe fitting in in this Catholic country won't be so hard.
Also, packing rules. Me and my mom sit around in her air conditioned bedroom folding things, cramming non-dense clothes under more dense things, and discussing my waist size. "This is so flattering!" she says of a dress I am unsure about bringing, "I wish green made my thighs look so good!" It's flattering, and it helps us spend time together without communally freaking out about how I will be leaving her motherly nurturing so soon.
And it is really soon. In 48 hours soon. In two nights, I'll be going to sleep in a new bed.
Sometimes, I get really worried about what its going to be like, and almost whenever that happens, I start to beat myself up for being wussie about it. Look at all those day laborers, those Rwandan refugees, that guy who walked from Siberia to southern China. Think about the Native Americans, the Pilgrims, THE JEWS YOUR OWN PEOPLE. Once I get to THE JEWS MY OWN PEOPLE FOR GOD'S SAKE, the anxiety can finally find a place to rest. Once I stop considering people who move, immigrants, migrants, emmigrants, whatever, to be on this plane above myself, full of honor and bravery and strength I could never possess, I stop feeling so guilty and so scared. Lester talked to me about it, and what she said was right: that moving and entering a new space is pretty much the hardest thing a human can do while still remaining on the planet. Its scary because its disturbing, to enter someplace new and unfamiliar, with only your own soul, and your own little pod of a self to guide you. That's why people hang on to language, and traditions, and live in little El Salvador until their children are begging them to leave. How could you not resist the safety of what you know when you are surrounded by what you have never seen before? Its hard to depend so much on what's driving you from the inside when what's moving you from the outside is so unfamiliar.
When I start thinking this way, I think about the people we called at the phone bank who said that all immigrants are bad for coming here, and that they all should go back. I used to think that was just hatred, and I still think its ignorance, but now I'm starting to think that maybe they are just as scared of the unfamiliar. Maybe, they are just anxious for a future they aren't sure of, that they don't know they could understand. And being scared of the future, well, that's something I can totally understand.
THANKS FOR THIS.
ReplyDeleteIt is exactly what I needed to read before I left.
6 days count down!
I hope you are having an amazing time
-Ellen