I traveled to New York City a lot when I was younger, but growing up my own lack of culture and worldly knowledge denied me of any sort of appreciation for the giant metropolis. It was just a huge, dirty city that never ended I thought, where consumerism and crime alike was rampant. While the latter points may arguably be true, it is an incredible place that I only now am understanding. My latest trip left me stunned and exhilarated that such a place lays just eight hours away from my home city of Toronto, and I'm anxious now to return there. I suppose when I was younger I wasn't really given the opportunity to explore, and I didn't really know what to look for anyways. Now having spent several years traveling, the internationalism of New York City, and its appeal to global wanderers has become obviously clear to me. New York seems to have something for everyone, no matter who you are or where you are from. It is the epicentre of all things human, the epitome of modern day civilization.
I couldn't believe as I strolled through a neighborhood in Queens that I was in the United States at all. I suddenly found myself back in Latin America, surrounded by tiendas and comedores, groups of old men sitting outside in the sun, vendors selling cheap items on the street. I went looking for a clean razor shave with my brother and after passing about five peluquerías we finally settled on one where a group of young Dominicans in matching barbers robes laughed and spoke in their fast tongued native spanish as they carefully lined up other Latinos´ hair. They spoke to me in spanish, english was not an option, it didn´t seem to be anywhere in this part of the city. I was given a perfect shave and left a tip for the caballero, he deserved it spending extra time lining up my beard just perfectly. I then walked out and we hopped in a taxi, and of course the driver only spoke to me in Spanish. Even though he knew exactly where my hotel was located, as we headed there chatting and laughing I became lost, unsure if I was in NYC or back in Guayaquil, not wanting to leave that cab and those memories behind me.
That night I attended my cousin´s wedding and had an amazing time, bonding with my extended family, reminding me of why its so good to be close to home again. The next day, after a night of great festivities, we went exploring in a completely different part of the city, the place where most tourists seem to flock. We drove to Manhattan and strolled through Central Park, eventually making our way to Times Square. It wasn´t quite how I imagined it to be, my imagination lacks scale apparently, because everything was so much grander and larger than I expected. The giant flashing screens and lights, the towering buildings. There was so much to take in, a lady posing in a bikini in the middle of bustling traffic, the activist shouting about the war, the military recruitment station with doors wide open.
My time was so limited and I had to hop on a plane home that same night. Sitting in the airport waiting, like I have so many times before, left me feeling confident and happy about where I was, both in that moment and in life. I look forward to exploring NYC much more in the near future, I know that I have only touched the surface.
Monday, August 15, 2011
Monday, June 13, 2011
Settling...
It’s a little disheartening when I pull out my trusty little travel writing computer and blow dust off of it. I’d just be guessing when I say that all writers go through points in their lives when they stop writing, when they feel uninspired. It is difficult to rationalize such feelings without a sense of loss - without a sense of losing myself. But looking back over the last few years I realize that it has been an ongoing process of losing myself, of evolving as a person through experience. So I keep my head high and realize that this simply is the next step for me, albeit one that seems very foreign.
It’s actually quite ironic. Coming home, finding a job, settling down – these are the things that are foreign to me. Not taking off to some distant land where people are fascinated by the way I dress and speak. We were to call it re-integration when we came back from our contract work in Ecuador, and our employers attempted to assist us through it with motivational speakers and reverse culture shock activities. But for all of us that went to work in Ecuador we all had different degrees of separation from this society, and so we all required a much different process of re-integration. I had spent the majority of the last three years living in Latin America, constantly on the move, constantly finding new people and new adventures. For this to all come to an end suddenly is something I’m still coming to terms with.
Some may ask why it has to end, and this is a question I ask myself more than anyone. Why should I not keep living by my free floating ethos, and let the nomadic life fully absorb me? Is this not what I’ve promoted throughout the writing of this blog? Perhaps I always knew that it was something that could not be carried on forever. Contemporary society dictates some level stability in ones life in order to be relatively prosperous and I would be lying to myself if I claimed that prosperity has not been a lingering thought as I’ve lived a rather austere life over the last while.
If there is anything that the last three years on the road have taught me it is that where you imagine yourself a year from now, will often be the opposite of where you end up. If life were not this way, we would not be human, and we wouldn’t learn from our experiences and use those lessons to guide us.
So here I am in Toronto, investigating different opportunities for my future, engaging in different commitments and activities that were foreign to me as a traveler - and it feels good. Regardless of the next steps that I take, the adventures and travels will never stop, and I'll always continue writing. People from around the world have touched my soul, and brought me to where I am now, and that is something that I want to carry with me throughout my life.
The Canadian that went to Ecuador to take over my position when I left sent me an email the other day which left me with a great smile on my face and forced me to choke back some tears. She said that she had begun to work with the community council – that group of people that I knew so well in Data de Villamil, Ecuador. As I read her words I pictured her sitting around the little wooden table at the side of the dusty road, listening to the wise words of those hardened coastal folk. She wrote to me that they were having a hard time pronouncing her name, so they had simply all decided to call her “Antonia”, and that I had left quite an impression on them. I only wish they could know the impression they have left with me, and I take that impression with me always as I move on to different things back in Canada.
It’s actually quite ironic. Coming home, finding a job, settling down – these are the things that are foreign to me. Not taking off to some distant land where people are fascinated by the way I dress and speak. We were to call it re-integration when we came back from our contract work in Ecuador, and our employers attempted to assist us through it with motivational speakers and reverse culture shock activities. But for all of us that went to work in Ecuador we all had different degrees of separation from this society, and so we all required a much different process of re-integration. I had spent the majority of the last three years living in Latin America, constantly on the move, constantly finding new people and new adventures. For this to all come to an end suddenly is something I’m still coming to terms with.
Some may ask why it has to end, and this is a question I ask myself more than anyone. Why should I not keep living by my free floating ethos, and let the nomadic life fully absorb me? Is this not what I’ve promoted throughout the writing of this blog? Perhaps I always knew that it was something that could not be carried on forever. Contemporary society dictates some level stability in ones life in order to be relatively prosperous and I would be lying to myself if I claimed that prosperity has not been a lingering thought as I’ve lived a rather austere life over the last while.
If there is anything that the last three years on the road have taught me it is that where you imagine yourself a year from now, will often be the opposite of where you end up. If life were not this way, we would not be human, and we wouldn’t learn from our experiences and use those lessons to guide us.
So here I am in Toronto, investigating different opportunities for my future, engaging in different commitments and activities that were foreign to me as a traveler - and it feels good. Regardless of the next steps that I take, the adventures and travels will never stop, and I'll always continue writing. People from around the world have touched my soul, and brought me to where I am now, and that is something that I want to carry with me throughout my life.
The Canadian that went to Ecuador to take over my position when I left sent me an email the other day which left me with a great smile on my face and forced me to choke back some tears. She said that she had begun to work with the community council – that group of people that I knew so well in Data de Villamil, Ecuador. As I read her words I pictured her sitting around the little wooden table at the side of the dusty road, listening to the wise words of those hardened coastal folk. She wrote to me that they were having a hard time pronouncing her name, so they had simply all decided to call her “Antonia”, and that I had left quite an impression on them. I only wish they could know the impression they have left with me, and I take that impression with me always as I move on to different things back in Canada.
Tuesday, May 10, 2011
The spirit of Montreal...
Montreal is quickly becoming my favorite place to visit from Toronto. Last week I was there as the first real warm weather set in, we spent the afternoon in the park tossing the Frisbee and letting the sun darken us. For me it was a special moment because I was able to do something I had been dreaming of for the last few years. Something so simple and so normal here, but almost unheard of in the places where I have been living. I was finally able to just take my shirt off and lay in the warm, green grass of a park and enjoy the sounds of the Canadian summer.
We had to stay outside and stay active. We wanted to be full of this new found weather, we needed it to replenish us, like people lost in a desert who have finally come upon a water hole. The Bixie bike system is incredible, something that should lead the way for the future of all cities. It is a series of bike stands set up strategically throughout the city, and with a credit card one can rent a quality bike and conveniently ride it to another stand and leave it there. Riding through Montreal is a joy, with specific bike lanes on the major roads, and a respect for bikers that seems to be non-existent in other places. It is a vehicle after all, the only difference being that it is powered by our legs rather than damaging fossil fuels. I have heard of systems similar to the Bixie bikes being set up in places like Mexico city and actually working to reduce the carbon dioxide emissions significantly.
On Sunday, after a long night of drink and celebration with strange and interesting people from around Montreal, we headed to Mont Royal for what is called Tam-Tams. It is a grand music festival that anyone can join, and it takes place every weekend of the summer. Approaching the park there is a massive and towering statue of an awe inspiring angel, around which the crowds slowly begin to amass. Gradually the sounds of the drum circles grow, and more and more people begin to gather. Anyone can join the circles, and if they don't have an instrument they can still be participate simply by dancing. So it was that I watched people from all walks of life letting themselves go to the beat of the drums. One large and unkempt man who looked like he sat behind a computer in a dark room all day, beat at his drum with a cigarette dangling from the side of his mouth, burning away. Another man in rather fancy clothes who could have been a stock broker by day, closed his eyes and looked to the sky as he let the rhythm carry him away. The drum master in the middle of the circle, with a magnificent looking djembe, smiled deeply and bounced around, his dark skin shining in the sun. The lone guitar player sat on the fringes, twanging to the different sounds, demonstrating his soul with the slow shake of his head side to side. The only thing these very different people all had in common was that they were there to escape, to let themselves go through music, and the satisfaction evident on their faces could be felt in the air that day, spreading across the park.
We sat on the grass as the area filled up, by mid-afternoon there was easily thousands of people. At one point we strolled up the hill to check out the medieval battles that I had heard of. We had seen random people walking through the park earlier donning shining armour, so my curiosity was at a high. As we entered the tree line it was like I was suddenly watching a scene from Braveheart. There were two long lines of people clad in armour of different shapes and colours, brandishing padded weapons of all sorts. They faced off preparing for battle, and when it began they moved toward each other quickly, slashing and spearing. Apparently it was on the honour system, where if you were hit directly without shielding you would lose that limb. So people would be down on one knee still swinging madly with their sword, others would be holding one arm behind them. Eventually they would be struck down with a blow to the body and one side would be victorious.
The spirit of Montreal truly showed itself that weekend, and the following day all of Quebec decided to vote for real change in Ottawa, a huge majority favoring the progressive NDP. It was like that vote simply reinforced the impression that I was feeling towards the people of Quebec, that they are truly a social people that understand the value of human compassion and of shared human experiences.
We had to stay outside and stay active. We wanted to be full of this new found weather, we needed it to replenish us, like people lost in a desert who have finally come upon a water hole. The Bixie bike system is incredible, something that should lead the way for the future of all cities. It is a series of bike stands set up strategically throughout the city, and with a credit card one can rent a quality bike and conveniently ride it to another stand and leave it there. Riding through Montreal is a joy, with specific bike lanes on the major roads, and a respect for bikers that seems to be non-existent in other places. It is a vehicle after all, the only difference being that it is powered by our legs rather than damaging fossil fuels. I have heard of systems similar to the Bixie bikes being set up in places like Mexico city and actually working to reduce the carbon dioxide emissions significantly.
On Sunday, after a long night of drink and celebration with strange and interesting people from around Montreal, we headed to Mont Royal for what is called Tam-Tams. It is a grand music festival that anyone can join, and it takes place every weekend of the summer. Approaching the park there is a massive and towering statue of an awe inspiring angel, around which the crowds slowly begin to amass. Gradually the sounds of the drum circles grow, and more and more people begin to gather. Anyone can join the circles, and if they don't have an instrument they can still be participate simply by dancing. So it was that I watched people from all walks of life letting themselves go to the beat of the drums. One large and unkempt man who looked like he sat behind a computer in a dark room all day, beat at his drum with a cigarette dangling from the side of his mouth, burning away. Another man in rather fancy clothes who could have been a stock broker by day, closed his eyes and looked to the sky as he let the rhythm carry him away. The drum master in the middle of the circle, with a magnificent looking djembe, smiled deeply and bounced around, his dark skin shining in the sun. The lone guitar player sat on the fringes, twanging to the different sounds, demonstrating his soul with the slow shake of his head side to side. The only thing these very different people all had in common was that they were there to escape, to let themselves go through music, and the satisfaction evident on their faces could be felt in the air that day, spreading across the park.
We sat on the grass as the area filled up, by mid-afternoon there was easily thousands of people. At one point we strolled up the hill to check out the medieval battles that I had heard of. We had seen random people walking through the park earlier donning shining armour, so my curiosity was at a high. As we entered the tree line it was like I was suddenly watching a scene from Braveheart. There were two long lines of people clad in armour of different shapes and colours, brandishing padded weapons of all sorts. They faced off preparing for battle, and when it began they moved toward each other quickly, slashing and spearing. Apparently it was on the honour system, where if you were hit directly without shielding you would lose that limb. So people would be down on one knee still swinging madly with their sword, others would be holding one arm behind them. Eventually they would be struck down with a blow to the body and one side would be victorious.
The spirit of Montreal truly showed itself that weekend, and the following day all of Quebec decided to vote for real change in Ottawa, a huge majority favoring the progressive NDP. It was like that vote simply reinforced the impression that I was feeling towards the people of Quebec, that they are truly a social people that understand the value of human compassion and of shared human experiences.
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