(Read more about my trip to Kenya at Like Eating Crab, Still a Sunrise?, Replacing me with … and Happy Peace Day, Chinese Person in Tent Number 59)
I do have fantasies of running away. I want to leave behind my chores, my email, and my sense of obligation to be nice. And more than anything right now, I want to get away from American politics.
I’m traveling abroad and the little news that I’ve gotten this week confirms my worst fears about my country’s current regime change. Identities of incoming cabinet members make it clear that the angry non-professional whites are not going to get a better deal any time soon, and that possibility was the only silver lining to this mess that I saw. No, they will only get poorer as the very rich use their new cabinet positions to find ways to siphon ever more money away from the working class, making them angrier and more disagreeable. Not something to look forward to.
At the moment, I recognize that I have anger issues of my own. I cannot seem to stop seething at those who made the stupid decision to vote for this man, no matter what their reasoning. I don’t use the word stupid lightly. If I hear one more person make the uninformed claim that “she was just as bad” I fear I may loose my remaining respect for my fellow citizens. Please stop chanting “lock her up” and look what she actually did and did not do, folks. Read the results of unbiased fact checkers about who lied most of the time and who didn’t. Listen carefully to the things your candidate said. And then show some remorse for what you’ve brought on this great nation.
Okay, I admit it, I’m not in a forgiving, let’s all come together kind of mood and it looks like I’m not going to get there for awhile. It is probably a good thing that I got to run away for a week, and that it was all the way to Morocco.
This is an ancient land, but one in transition as well. The internet is everywhere, with satellite dishes decorating the top of most of the roofs inside the Medina, the oldest, walled parts of the city. Leaders have worked hard here to eliminate terrorists from their midst, knowing well that it is the peace loving citizenry of a country that suffer the most from its own radicalism.
Two of my fellow travelers are gay men, and they are aware that homosexual acts are illegal in this country. As in many other places, no one they encounter goes out of their way to learn more about their relationship. In the city, they share a room and a bed, and the housekeeper drapes it with roses just as, I assume, she does for every other couple.
After a few days we leave the noisy mesmerizing city of Marrakesh for the countryside. Morocco is largely rural, with the kind of conservative beliefs that that remind me of my own roots in Western Kansas. Yes, I know, we were Catholic and they are Muslim, but below that surface is the same innate code that people should dress modestly, talk nicely, and behave well. My travel companions are given a room with twin beds, of course. No one would think they wanted otherwise.
Then we are on to the desolate Atlantic coast in the southern part of the country, where beer is sold and limbs are shown as people from a whole mix of ethnic origins and beliefs come together to enjoy the sea and the waves. Lodging and food are even less expensive and there is a feel somewhere between hippie and surfer. Our hostel beds are several to a room, and no one cares at all who sleeps where, with who or why.
The writer in me is wide awake, her head full of stories begging to be told. Traveling without my computer for the first time in years has meant writing first drafts by hand, something I have not done for decades. At first it felt awkward as I scratched out words and used circles and arrows to move blocks of text round, but by now it has become fun as I rediscover the joy of making a fancy arrow or giving an extra flourish a the base of a “y”. Writing is once again a visual experience as well as an intellectual one, encouraged by the sight of the beautiful Arabic alphabet that surrounds me here.
Part of me wants to stay on this beach forever, or at least for a few more months. I’ve found Moroccans to be friendly on the whole, and as a woman who made part of this trip alone I’ve had no more problems than I would have expected anywhere. And oh the stories I could write here. But I don’t belong in this place. I have a home, one where I and a whole lot of other people are very angry.
It’s time to board my plane. I linger as everyone else climbs up the steps into the aircraft, thinking how I’m glad that Morocco does not have so many angry people. I appreciate that no one has tried to make trouble for me or my fellow travelers. I wish this country ongoing peace as it makes its way along in a modern world. I vow to take some of that peace with me, as I prepare to head home to deal with all the angry people in my own nation, including myself.
I love going places I’ve never been. Thanks to a profession that has sent me to four continents, family that is far-flung well beyond the norm, and a deep wanderlust in my soul, I travel a lot. I was once told to only offer advice under two circumstances. (1) If it is asked for. (2) If it is a life-threatening emergency. Recognizing that this is neither, I am going to break this wise rule. Why? I’ve just gotten back from yet another trip and realized that traveling is something I am rather good at. This is, after all, a blog about being joyful, and a fun trip anywhere is one of the best ways I know of to dance ones life with joy.
1. Listen to the wisdom of “Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy” and bring your towel. First, of course, you must figure out what your personal towel is. Mine is a down pillow that guarantees me a good night sleep anywhere, keeps my feet warm on long flights or cushions that bottle of pinot noir I just have to put in my suitcase. My husband’s towel is a good flashlight. Once you determine yours, don’t leave home without it. While traveling, remind yourself that everything is gong to be okay because you have your towel.
2. Don’t bring other people’s towels with you. They have stores where you are going (probably). You can buy emergency supplies. You can wear clothes more than once. Whatever it takes, don’t leave home with more than you can comfortably run two blocks with. Suitcases on wheels help. Shoes to be worn anywhere but dinner on a cruise ship really ought to pass the two block run test too.
3. Get up fifteen minutes earlier and do what you do. Meditate. Stretch. Pray. Write in a journal. I now do qigong, You should do whatever the thing is that keeps you feeling like you. It’s worth way more than a little sleep.
4. Put aside fifteen minutes for you know. Your body has a rhythm and it needs a little space and calm to take care of its business. Allow for it and nobody has to listen to stories about how constipated you are. A little attention to your diet before you have a problem helps also.
5. Water. Bottled water if your locations suggests that is wise. Carry it, have extra, and keep drinking it. Not only will it help with item four above, but it will improve your health, keep you from overeating, and mitigate effects of partying. As a corollary, never pass up the chance to pee while traveling. And if you are in bottled water country, be vigilant. Ice, teeth brushing , and freshly washed fruits and vegetables can all negate the precautions you have already taken.
6. Floss. Teeth problems on the road suck.
7. Layers. It’s always unusually hot for this time of year, wherever I go. Except when it’s unusually cold. Most of my travel outfits start with a tank top, and a lightweight down vest lives in the bottom of my travel bag. Comfy people are happy people.
8. Have something to amuse yourself with you the whole time. Travel is full of unexpected waits. Unless you are far more patient than I am, a pocket Sudoku book, a well charged phone loaded with games, or a deck of cards can turn “what the hell is wrong with these people” into an instant party or some nice relaxation time.
Enjoy the journey. My sister the travel professional tells me that if folks want things to be exactly like they are at home, then they should stay home. For those of us who won’t stay home, embracing those differences can make all the difference.