Monday, June 23, 2014

Persona 9) The terraqueous adventurer

Our travelling spirit has taken our discombobulated reality we regard as our nogginal ambiances many places. It does seem though that our safety has never been of great concern to him.
I've taken my bros on many adventures. We've driven on the long plateau sloping to Mount McKinley in the middle of January. We've wandered the shanty towns of Guatemala City. Canoed from the Rockies to Manitoba. Climbed down and up the Grand Canyon. Considered swimming to Cuba from the tip of the Florida Panhandle. Slept in some x-rated movie theatre hiding out in the Bronx. Even bicycled from Vancouver down the coast to southern California. But some adventures stick in your mind because they somehow hit that mellow spot in your soul.

I remember walking through a city once, sleeping bag and little pack on my back, no map, just the sun and stars to guide my way. Rivers, streams, and freeways cause the biggest detours. It seems to me it was in California, but it could just as easily have been Memphis or Birmingham. Power line cut ways and train tracks can be of great assistance when navigating in this manner. I remember trekking through a heavily wooded power line cut, not a sole in sight, yet in the midst of millions of people. It was a beautiful warm sunny afternoon and I finally came to a street crossing which led to a quiet little neighbourhood where I bought bread and boloney and orange juice at a tiny convenience store and had my lunch sitting in the shade on the steps. Funny what you remember.

Avoiding tourist destinations is predisposed. It's not that they're disdained, it's more like a cat who runs away from you everywhere you approach it during the day, yet curls up beside your pillow every night for a sound sleep. I mean I spent a week in Vegas and never entered a casino, didn't even play a slot. Pretty cheap, eh, don't tell the border guys.

Financing our wander lust was always part of the joy. Temporary manpower places in the bigger cities would provide interesting jobs and sights to save up for some food and maybe a bus ticket to the next town. Our red neck mechanic could often talk his way into fixing something for a local in more rural areas. We all ran a custom combine one fall to provide the bribes for an adventure through Central America. Buses and trains were cheap there and locals would give you lifts on old trucks and even tractors if you were walking along the road. It was definitely a safer place forty years ago than it might be today. And corn fields are really neat places for a good nights sleep

I could say here that I am an advocate for a world without borders. I was surrounded once by two hundred teens, obviously a local 'gang' in a large park in the centre of Mexico City. I joked with them and we communicated the best we could with our sign languages. They held no malice, they were simply curious, and vanished in every direction as magically as they had appeared. A little fellow appeared and took me to his tiny dwelling and we had a real treat of dried bananas. Terrorists thrive on threats to their way of life. Our world is changing, no one has to force this on anyone else. Fifty years ago the religious community I was born into still insisted on women covering their heads in church and sitting on the opposite side of the sanctuary from the men. This has slowly changed, and other cultures will slowly change also. Perhaps ownership of anything whether a coat or a country might well be regarded as a more of a silly joke to be viewed with amusement by our neighbours. And possibly much more respected. Other cultures and ideas are rather interesting, and really have no borders. Borders are for hoarders.

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