I Don't Like to Travel. I Like to Live in a Country.

People are surprised when I say that I don't like to travel because they think that I have traveled a lot and that I've enjoyed it.  What I've enjoyed is living in countries.  Feeling settled.  Feeling a part of the community.  Spending the least amount of time in transit.

I liked living in Tonga for two years, in Spain for one, in Algeria for two years.

Later, I felt I was living in Oaxaca for the month I was there because I was living in one home for the full time, and the same was true of Nicoya for the same period of time.

Even when I was with Annie and Jean Paul in Andresy and later in Brittany, I had the feeling of living, not just traveling through, and that's how I felt about the week Javier and I were in Bremen with Jutta and Andreas and the week we Anmiroti were at Rosa's in Barcelona last September.

I felt home in those places, and the excursions we took were from home.

In spite of my preference for living rather than in traveling through, I enjoyed the trips to Fiji, New Zealand, Iceland, Samoa  long ago, and the trips to Cuba, Chile, Alajuela, China, Ecuador,  Peru, Switzerland  more recently.

But I prefer living, and this trip that I am about to take makes me yearn for my return!

I've enjoyed the preliminary walks in San Francisco, but they were taken from the comfort of my home, where I was sustained by all the rituals and all the familiar "aids" that make up my day .

Travel:  The opportunity to get away from everything that brings me comfort.

(If I have time, I'll post another blog on the dopamine that comes from learning while living and (gulp) even while traveling.)

3 Girls Theater Company--Lots of Talent and Stimulation, but Getting There Was NOT Half of the Fun

Yesterday I took Elma, a friend straight back from  three months in Nice, France, to a festival for the fifth anniversary of 3 Girls Theater Company, New Works Festival Women & the Body Politic, where we saw very good readings of very good plays at the Thick House on 18th near Rhode Island.

It was from that theater after seeing The Most Dangerous Highway in the World that another friend, Shehla, and I had a crash on the freeway on Mother's Day, so I wasn't anxious to take the same route.
But Google directions indicated streets off the freeway that we couldn't find, so I'm glad the plays were so good as compensation.

New Works Festival Women & the Body Politic. 

We saw Slice, Written & Directed by Robin Bradford with Adrienne Walters, Cat Brooks, and Douglas Giorias (Mary Powelson reading stage directions) and Country Matters  by Lee Brady with Lorri Holt, Charles Dean, Nancy Madden, and Dennis McIntyre, directed by Andrea Gordon.  We also saw  Maureen and Charles Rooney, who know both Lee Brady and her husband from work and from playing music. 


http://www.sfgate.com/performance/article/3-Girls-Theatre-focuses-on-women-new-works-9170879.php

Travel: The Chance to Leave Behind All the Comforts of Home

I love my home, and I love my daily rituals, and maybe that's why when I think of all the wonderful things I'm looking forward to--seeing Northern Spain, walking the Camino from Cebreiro to Santiago, seeing Rosa and (I hope) Annie in Madrid, being with Annie and Jutta in Paris (probably not in Ardeche, the way things are looking now)--what I'm most looking forward to is coming home!

My attachment to my home may have something to do with my age, but all my life I've preferred living in a place--Tonga, Spain, Algeria--to passing through.

This trip there will be a lot of passings through.

Paraphernalia for the Camino de Santiago de Compostela

Europeans may be in for culture shock when I walk on Spanish and French soil next month, but at least I'm all dressed for it, and I've loved all the pre-Camino walks in San Francisco.

Yesterday went went from Castro and Market up Noe to Alta Vista Park and on through the Presidio and to Golden Gate Bridge and then to Russian Hill and Chinatown before hitting the Embarcadero Station on Market for a ride back to our respective homes.

But before we took off, I posed with all my new paraphernalia:  My new black backpack, my sun hat, the "bladder" of the camel pak coming from the backpack, my camel pak, REI shoes and socks--socks that may be responsible for the somewhat alarming rash I have on my calf above my ankle.

I never think "Get off my back!" about people pestering me, but I do think it about backpacks, so it was a big step to finally accept the necessity of buying and using one.  

Traveling to Find Out What I Do that Most Annoys and Alienates People

Travel:  The opportunity to escape everything that brings me joy and comfort.

Well, maybe not joy.  There may be joy on other shores, even if the person I'll be with the first two weeks  really doesn't like me, as he's shown with responses like "Obviously!" and "You've been corrected on the pronunciation of that street name, and you're still saying it wrong."

There may be joy even though my Spanish and French may annoy more than they help.

There may be joy even though as a vegan, I may not find substantial meals, and I do love to eat.

They say dopamine kicks in when we learn new things, and traveling is a learning opportunity:

Within a month, I'll learn which has annoyed people more--my Spanish and French or my vegan diet.

I'm thinking of preparing a little check list as I go into scavenge for food:

Degree of support offered (from food servers, from companions)
Degree of annoyance show (by food servers, by companions)

I should also have a grid for Degree to which I annoy people with my French/Spanish/vegan diet.

I should mention that I'll feel joy seeing my French friend Annie and my German friend Jutta--if I don't annoy them now that I'm a double-threat:  A vegan who doesn't really speak French very well!

Florence Foster Jenkins Plays West Portal

I had to see this film to try to understand how she failed to hear herself and why no one helped her hear--or got her to stop.  So even though I had more "necessary" things to do (if you ask a sane person like, perhaps, my walking partner-to-be on the Camino), I walked to West Portal and saw it.

I didn't really understand much better, but they definitely portrayed her husband as a man who loved her.  Why?  For her sweetness?  For her illusion?

Do some people feel that they have to help people guard their illusions?

If anyone can manage to believe their dream of themself is coming true, let's help them.  (Notice how I deliberately use themself for the vague anybody, singular.)

Was letting her know the truth about her singing as cruel as shining the lamp on Blanche Dubois?

We know who had more money!

But I didn't get the impression that he loved her only for providing the life he wanted to live, and what kind of life was that anyway--constantly trying to hide the truth that her singing was an abomination from the person singing abominably?.

She didn't support him when he suggested that he perform too.

I missed the servant in  Marguerite.

But there were good points about this.

"People can say that I couldn't sing, but they can't say I didn't sing."

Marguerite and Florence Foster Jenkins: When We Can't Hear Ourselves!

I was really touched by the movie Marguerite, the French version of the Florence Foster Jenkins story that's going by that name in the American movie with Meryll Streep in the role of the woman who really thought she could sing--and everyone kept the truth from her.

I wonder what kept her from hearing herself--what malady or bone structure?

But it's a touching story for other reasons like the very symbolism of it all.  

How often do I get praise for something I'm not doing well?  Not often enough, say I!

I want more praise when I sing off-key, but...

I don't want to be regarded as a freak.

Then there's the kindness (or cruelty) of the people who didn't tell her the truth.  Her husband tried to help her keep her illusions. 

And oh, that servant of hers--played by Denis Mpunga.  How often do servants watch their employers make fools of themselves?  In this case, he was the guardian angel of her illusions!

In the 1960's South, the "colored" people who worked for us must have seen us imagining ourselves superior and learned to keep a straight face through it all.

I just listened to the real Florence Foster Jenkins because I had thought there was some exaggeration.  There wasn't.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=V6ubiUIxbWE