A Life Out Of Joint

“I've seen things you (…) wouldn't believe. Attack ships on fire off the shoulder of Orion. I've watched c-beams glitter in the dark near the Tannhauser Gate. All those moments will be lost in time; like tears in rain.”
Well, I didn’t see as much as Batty in Blade Runner, but I’ve not come back the same person. I left angry and came back with a shift in perspective. Self-examination and critical thinking is tough and scary but the most rewarding things often are. It’s ongoing, though, or it will be lost in time.
But I’ve just discovered that there are several forks missing from my flat.
I should never have gone away.

Wake Up And Smell The Coffee

I woke up and I didn’t know where I was.
Waking up most days in a new place it’s not surprising. And sometimes I wake up in an in-between place, like on a bus, a train, or a plane.
But, ironically, this time I was in my bed, at home. I was back.
Although I’m not so sure it feels like home anymore. And there's no toilet paper.
Now what?

I Hate Tourists

‘Hey, Seb,’ I said, ‘how come you didn’t go travelling in South America after your time in Costa Rica?’
‘What do you mean, Seb?’ I asked. ‘You have a problem with North America?’
‘Well, I just thought that the usual route for people dismayed with the rampant materialism of Western society, that spiritual wasteland where people seek meaning in consumer goods and are increasingly isolated from each other, was to head South -or to Asia- in their search for something more authentic.’
‘Are you asking me why I didn’t go on the hippy trail?’
‘Er, yes.’
‘Because I don’t see how going to a hot country to see poor people and wear baggy trousers is authentic. There are plenty of poor people in North America, and they live right next to incredibly wealthy people, that’s authentic and screwed up.’
‘And I suppose you’re going to tell me next that people in poor countries don’t want to be authentic anyway, that they aspire to materialism and buying Mickey Mouse shaped candle holders too.’
‘Why yes. You know, it’s spooky, it’s like you can read my mind. So I just wanted to see new sights, visit friends, and have time to think. Is that OK?’
‘I thought you picked America because the shallow, keep-it-simple culture suited you.’
‘Like, screw you, dude.’

Lifestyles Of The Hard Working And Anonymous

I’m staying with some friends in Toronto.
My friends around North America have been very generous with me as I have been travelling around.
They have opened up their homes and I have been able to enjoy the lifestyles that they are working so hard to maintain but do not have time to actually enjoy themselves.
At least all that hard work is not going to waste.

Ask Questions Later

I’m sitting opposite an attractive French girl in the lounge area of a hostel.
We’re chatting about where we have been and where we are going.
I think to myself that I like her.
Then I think to myself if I like her because she is attractive, or if she is attractive because I like her.
Meanwhile, she gets up and leaves.

Quebec

Mon Dieu, quel accent!
If this is French, then I'm a Dutchman.

Just What She Carries

I’m in a hostel in the middle of Jasper National Park. It’s after dinner and a few of us are gathered around a fire, talking and drinking. It’s bear country but we reckon it can’t kill all of us, the fittest will get away. Natural selection.
A woman is talking. I watch her face in the glow of the flames. It’s an interesting face.
‘I’ve been on the road for sixteen years,’ she says.
Sixteen years! Christ, these days, I’m struggling after two hours.
‘I was in Chile for a few years,’ she continues, ‘but I would like to return to Guatemala.’
She makes and sells jewellery. When she has no money she barters for her board, doing odd jobs. She has just what she carries.
I wonder what stories she could tell. To have seen much and to have nothing, is to have rich eyes and poor hands. Every day a new horizon. Every day a new challenge. Life as an adventure.
She pulls her shawl around her and tells us that she was offered a job in Jasper but she’s not sure she could settle down, fit back into ‘the system.’
I wonder if I could opt out of the system too, the straightjacket that makes us cogs in a machine, that tames the natural animal in us, but first I need to secure a pension that will pay for medication and care when I’m old and sick.
Someone hands me a joint. Fireworks go off in my head and I don‘t think of anything any much anymore.

Another Journey Into The Interior

‘Hey,’ I asked, ‘where are you off to now?’
‘Off into the interior,’ I answered. ‘That’s what they call it here: the Interior.’
‘Sounds ominous.’
‘Not really. Although a couple of years back, on a cross Canada Greyhound bus, some guy sawed another guy’s head off…’
‘Jesus. I know it’s a long way but there must be other ways of not going mad. Have you packed a sudoku?’
‘Actually, I’m going to ponder if questioning the conformity of modern consumer society is valid given that most people are trying to distinguish themselves by what they purchase.’
‘Jesus. By the way, you do know that you are talking to yourself, right?’
‘Who said that?’