Learning to See

I travel. I observe. I report my observations in Facebook posts. These three facts have prompted some interesting reactions from friends, both Facebook and real, over the years.

The past couple of years, I sailed to the Bahamas. My posts of tropical beaches and sun-drenched skies had my Facebook friends' reactions running the gamut, from "More! More! You're keeping me sane through this awful winter!" to friends blocking me because they felt I was flaunting my good fortune. Or maybe they were green with envy, I don't know. But yes, I've had both experiences in my past: the fan base and the haters. Well, not haters, exactly. "'Hate' is a strong word," my mother used to say. But still...I've had my share of non-followers.

This year, I am house sitting for five months in France. I arrived with no preconceived notions, ready to embrace a culture so different from my own. Still First World, but different: ancient, challenging language-wise, and rich food-wise. I've travelled in Southeast Asia, Central America, Mexico, & the Caribbean, so I'm no stranger to the strange & new. But, in a way, because this is a First World culture, not Second or Third, I am even more surprised  and thrown off by the differences. Perhaps my culture shock is due to the fact that some of the customs here are so obviously superior to our own, and could be adopted without discomfort or disruption to our easy American lives for the good of the planet. I spoke that thought. And that's where I rankled and ruffled feathers.

I don't claim to know a thing about the longterm political-social situation here. I am clearly living on the surface of things after only three weeks in this country. My eyes are still starry and looking on the bright side. I'm in an emotional state akin to the early stages of falling in love; you see only the good, but sometimes--in the long run--that turns out to be the real deal.

I have the open mind and open heart required of the intrepid traveler. I make a fool of myself a thousand times a day, trying out my ridiculous French in the line at the post office, grocery store, and boulangerie. I force myself to sit at the counter of a cafe, to be in the intensity of the mix, rather than hide in the back at a quiet table, as I'd prefer. Traveling is, to a great degree, about being uncomfortable and, as with a protracted pose in yoga or meditation, sometimes you just have to linger in the discomfort to get through it.

So I apologize to those of you who were offended by my use of the words "spoiled pantywaists" to describe Americans, self very definitely included. I am not castigating my country or forgetting my extreme good fortune. But neither am I closing my eyes to new ways of doing things. I'm going to encourage the stars in my eyes to stay firmly affixed a while longer to continue to dazzle and shape-shift my normal perceptions.                              

I keenly worry about quick, dismissive reactions to new ways of seeing, especially in these days of murdered black men and children by white police officers. I worry about standing by my country and my beliefs because it is all I know. Is there such a thing as staying too safe, too close to home and the cozy Known? There are days here when I pine for a full day of speaking English, a day when I don't clench in nervousness if I need to get in the correct lane--which one IS it?--to buy gas with cash, or when I have to ask what aisle the guacamole is in. I'm not talking about making my way through Africa or the Arctic here. But still, I get nervous.

I'm working on my own dismissive reaction, the one that blurts out of my mouth via some gut-instinct for safety and self-preservation whenever a French person engages me in conversation. Instinct tells me to throw up a quick barrier with: "Je ne parle pas le Francais."  I'm trying to slow it down, ralentir a bit, and open myself up to the scary unknown...and listen. Maybe he's telling me that the guacamole can be found in Aisle 10. It sure sounds like it.

So I'm going to stand by the virtues of being starry-eyed and nervous, whether it's through travel to a foreign country or helping serve dinner at a food bank. It's good to shake it up a bit every now and then, to get off the cruise ship or the couch, to see what's out there and how other people--other you's and me's--are doing it. And see how long you can hold the pose, no matter how uncomfortable it may make you.