To be or not to be

In English, there is only one way "to be". English has only one verb meaning "to be". Perhaps that explains the emphasis in the United States upon "doing" rather than "being". And a lifetime of doing may have stunted the being you perhaps wanted to be.

In Spanish, there are two ways "to be". Spanish has two verbs meaning "to be". One is "estar" and the other is "ser". Estar connotes location or temporary condition while ser has to do with permanent or innate conditions.

There is a richness in living in a place that recognizes different ways of being and gives you ways to communicate that to others. That richness overflows to the literature, philosophy and way of life. A culture that respects ones right to be naturally has a mañana attitude. A culture that advocates only one way of being rigidly requires uniform behavior from all its citizenry. It is no wonder that many expats struggle when their way of being clashes with alternative ways of being.

Spanish can conjugate twice as many ways of being as English can. So can you once you have lived here awhile.

We're having too good of a time today. We're not thinking about tomorrow.

I am The Jerk

Anyone familiar with the movie The Jerk probably remembers the scene when Navin R. Johnson [Steve Martin] is leaving home.

"And that's it and that's the only thing I need, is this. I don't need this or this. Just this ashtray. And this paddle game, the ashtray and the paddle game and that's all I need. And this remote control. The ashtray, the paddle game, and the remote control, and that's all I need. And these matches. The ashtray, and these matches, and the remote control and the paddle ball. And this lamp. The ashtray, this paddle game and the remote control and the lamp and that's all I need. And that's all I need too. I don't need one other thing, not one - I need this."

It goes on a little more with some additional items. This very scene plays out every time I pack for Mérida. HammockMan and I agree we don’t need to pack up crates full of stuff for our new life in Mérida. We will take a few clothes and start fresh. I buy into this idea until it is time to pack. I get a little panicky before each trip. What is the one thing I would like to have for the rest of my life? I pace through the house looking for the items that have the most meaning - and that fit within those pesky airline restrictions. The mix of things that have made the cut is a bit odd.

This reminds me of the death of my maternal grandmother. All of the cousins, fourteen in all, were allowed to pick one thing from her house after the funeral. The impetuous ones grabbed quickly. The worse choice I witnessed was some fuzzy-headed chicken with liquid in its belly that caused it to peck lower and lower as the liquid moved to its head. [Why did my grandmother have one of those?]

I made my choice slowly, contemplated all that was there. The one item that would forever remind me of Ann Johnston’s life was a glass dog. [You’re probably thinking I should have taken the chicken.] The glass dog sat on her entertainment center. It was mostly blue with some other colors deep in its body and a red glass tongue. It was perfect for an 11 year old that knew she would have it the rest of her life. Until her first husband slammed a door on the wall with the entertainment center and the dog fell to its death in a bazillion pieces a mere twelve years later. I burst into tears. I wanted the dog forever. I am sure it was because he felt so bad his reaction was ‘I don’t know why a stupid glass dog is such a big deal’. It was at the time.

The packing stakes are raised now because I am about to make my final trip as a visitor. After two and a half years of being The Jerk, the final items have to be decided. If I still had the glass dog it would already be in Mérida – yet I have somehow gotten by without it for 25 years. I have never forgotten my grandmother without my one memento of her life.

Do I really need this stuff?

La Dulce

Escape from America

Back when we were dreaming of quitting work and considering where we would like to relocate, I ran across an on-line magazine called "Escape from America". It fueled our fantasies with stories from around the world about breaking free from America's hold on us and discovering new possibilities elsewhere. One of the early articles that caught our attention was one on living on $800 a month on Margarita Island, Venezuela. It so captivated us that we made our first exploratory trip there and became convinced of the reasonableness of our escape. Soon after we "tasted" Mérida, then Playa del Carmen and then San Miguel de Allende and Guanajuato. And the rest, as they say, is history. You can link to that regular publication here. I have also decided to include this link in my "Helpful Links" section in the left column of this blog as it may interest some of you.

Some of the articles are quite good. In this issue, I like the one on living on $500 a month in Asia. They frequently have some interesting properties listed for sale around the world. You can "subscribe" for free to this publication and receive updates to your email when new issues are available.

Now that I am committed to Mérida and am in a monogamous relationship with her, I don't study these articles as religiously as I once did. But periodically I check out the issues and discover items of interest. I think you will, too.

Flirting with other places is still kind of fun.

On Moving

Many of us are restless and dissatisfied. We tell ourselves that everything wrong with our lives is because of where we live and the jobs we have. We think all we need to do is find the perfect place to live and everything else will sort of work itself out. You will relax more. Have friends over more. Not be as stressed.

Throughout my life, wherever I have found myself, I have imagined what life would be like in that place. I don't believe I ever went on a vacation where I didn't spend time upon my return imagining a life there and checking out real estate prices. Sometimes I find a house I want more than the house I am living in even though the house I am living in was once a house I wanted. Conversations with others suggest I am not that unique as evidenced by the popularity of the many House Hunter shows on HGTV. The grass is always greener.

Lying in my hammock, I see some value to those mental evaluations and quests. They enabled me to sort through my thoughts and determine my values and interests. At the same time, such fantasies are dangerous because they can lead to dissatisfaction with one's life no matter how satisfying it may be. Imagining keeps one from living in the present.

I have observed many expats who have thrived on searching for a house and readying that house for occupancy and rave reviews from their friends and family. It hasn't mattered whether it was San Miguel, Mérida or the Pacific Coast. They were happy. Then when the house was complete and they settled in, whoosh went the happiness and they didn't know what to do. Some delay this effect by buying a second house. Others pack up and move elsewhere, starting the quest anew.

The only happiness you will find in Mérida will be the happiness you bring with you. If you are a content and centered person, you are going to love Mérida. If not, probably you should keep imagining places to live.

It's so beautiful

From the movie Forrest Gump:

Jenny Curran: Were you scared in Vietnam?
Forrest Gump: Yes. Well, I-I don’t know. Sometimes it would stop raining long enough for the stars to come out… and then it was nice. It was like just before the sun goes to bed down on the bayou. There was always a million sparkles on the water… like that mountain lake. It was so clear, Jenny, it looked like there were two skies one on top of the other. And then in the desert, when the sun comes up, I couldn’t tell where heaven stopped and the earth began. It’s so beautiful.
Jenny Curran: I wish I could’ve been there with you.
Forrest Gump: You were.

For all of you who wish you were here, you are. My blogging is to share the love and beauty that is in this place.

Maybe you didn't realize we are involved in a romance together.

The desires of an old man

I recently saw the movie "Blindness". In it, the character played by Danny Glover says "Nothing is more ridiculous than the desires of an old man." Those words have lingered with me. I think it was Tolstoy who said "The biggest surprise in a man's life is old age."

Old age is not for sissies. It sneaks up on you and the next thing you notice is those around you commenting "Why can't an old man act his age?" But we can't, you see. We are still involved in the carnal aspects of the human comedy because in our heads, nothing has changed. I am reminded of Ben Kingsley's character in the movie "Elegy".

All of us are in a foot race with death. But the death of our youth often takes place unnoticed, and it is the harder death. What we now call death is no more than the death of old age. That one will be easy to notice. I am still not sure when the young me died. Or even if he has.

The person I am creating here in Mérida seems a lot more like the young kid I once was than the old man I was becoming. Maybe Ponce de Leon was looking for his magic elixir in the wrong country.

Night noises

An old man sits on Patio Escondido. "Listen to me," he says. "Hear my words."

"In the Yucatán tropics, Time is an ancient, cagey bandito who will steal your days and take your life while smiling down on you."

With his words, the tropical night begins to play itself like a worn Victrola record. Darkness descends. Where I am sitting was once a dormitory for donkeys.

In the shadow of a full moon, a gecko drinks water from a puddle and a night bird calls. A dog howls and is joined a few seconds later by another.

I become aware of a presence nearby. I move my eyes, nothing more. And for a minute, I forget to breathe. Scratching iguana toenails scurry by. Something has frightened Igor. I try not to imagine what can frighten a three foot iguana.

Another night bird call.

I straighten my back and begin a nervous hum of a song the Yucatones sang a few nights ago. "Sittin' in the plaza with his best guayabera on. Trying to hide from watching eyes..."

My head nods and I doze. Dreams assault me.

Three doors down, in a small house where a gas lantern hisses, a young girl brushes her black hair and thinks of her boyfriend.

A bus driver slows and lets an old couple off. It is his last run of the night.

The neighborhood quiets and I sleep.

I awake with a start. I glance to the eastern sky and see a hint of dawn coming up on Cancún. It will soon be running hard to Mérida.

Time passes when you are not looking. Or even when you are.

Another night spent "talking to myself" while Time picks my pocket.

My one year anniversary

Today concludes my first year of blogging. Looking back, I am reminded of the old zen saying that a journey of a thousand miles begins with one step. One hundred and sixty-five posts later, I have essentially written what amounts to a book of thoughts about living differently in a different land. The discipline of having to write regularly has been good for me. Paying attention to the world around me has provided me with rich material and opportunities for reflection. Comments and encouragement from my readers has meant a lot to me. I have made friendships that I treasure, both virtual and real. I had no idea I was a writer.

Thanks. This vehicle has given me voice and deepened my understanding. I wonder what this next year will bring.?

Salud everyone.

I love Mondays

In my former working life, Mondays were a dreaded time. They began another week at the grindstone. Or should that be millstone? As in "around one's neck". A whole vocabulary of buzz words were developed to communicate experiences common to us all. Blue Monday. Hump day. TGIF.

Retired, I love Mondays. Now I don't have to get up and travel across the city with other commuters. Rarely does anyone schedule a party or a special event for a Monday, so the day is an ordinary day for me now. I can sit in our perfect little house in Mérida and do absolutely nothing. I have no obligations. No tasks screaming for my attention. Nada.

The life of a blogger is a strange one. Sometimes I will sit at our computer and think. Sometimes I will write something. Occasionally I will discover that someone across the world has read my words and found encouragement in them. I enjoy that. I get to do what I want and still make a small contribution to a tiny community of readers around the world. There is an ordinariness to my life that I relish.

I used to hate Mondays. Now I love them. Mondays haven't changed. I have.

The Spell of Mérida

Sometimes there are no words, no clever quotes, to sum up what is going on around you. And so I look to others for ideas for my blog. Michigan has been running travel promotion ads here in Kansas recently. They have been making me homesick for Mérida. I am using them for this post.

"It seems when we get to where no one knows us, we become most ourselves. Trying new things. Making new friends. Laughing out loud. And dancing in the streets.

It's time to venture out. Who knows what we might discover as we come alive under the spell that is Michigan."

I've never been to Michigan so I do not know whether these words fit but they surely seem to fit Mérida for me. What do you think?

There is a spell that is Mérida. Has it taken up residence in your heart?