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.
No comments :
Post a Comment