The Poetry of Suburbia

I've lived in the suburbs basically my whole life. And yes, it is just as Mary Reynolds sings, "little boxes on the hillside/little boxes all the same/there's a green one and a pink one/and a blue one and a yellow one/and they're all made out of ticky tacky/and they all look just the same". There is a sort of "ho-hum" feel when people think of suburbia but there is poetry in it too. The friends you meet in elementary school are often the same friends you go to high school with, the same friends who live right around the street, the same friends you hang out with in the lull of the summer, the same friends you know your whole life. 

Ever since I moved here, ever since elementary school, I've been friends with essentially the same girls. Our friendship over the years has waxed and waned...there were times when we grew apart and found new friends and times when we couldn't get enough of each other. As we've been growing older though, I think we've all come to appreciate just how precious it is to have friends who have known you all your life. Who shared those awkward teen years with you. Who were there during the giddy beginnings of your first love. Who held your hand when that didn't end up being all it promised to be. Who were there just to lament the humdrum life of suburbia with you. That's pretty damn poetic, if you ask me...and it all happened in the "little boxes made out of ticky tacky".

My longest relationship ever. It must be true love.

This year we all graduated university and just like that we've been propelled into the real world with responsibilities (or at least the expectation of it) weighing on our shoulders. We're moving on to dental school, medical school, full-time jobs, and all that grown up stuff you hear about all your life. It's weird.

We spent this summer traveling (albeit separately) before we had to go on and do all of the things I mentioned above. When we all got back from our travels, my girlfriends and I drove up to the beach as we often do during the summer. And after the excitement and rush of constantly moving around for the past couple of months, there was this indelible simplicity where the whole world retreated and we had a moment's respite. Driving along the countryside with the music pumping, our legs out the windows, the wind blowing our faces numb, the sun coming down. It was all too perfect. Like time was in suspension for us to enjoy the last few moments before our lives and our worlds would change.

I know I make this out to be incredibly dramatic, but honestly in my brain this plays out like a great coming of age movie. Except it's not a movie. It's real life. And real life is messier, richer, more nuanced, and altogether more poetic than any Woody Allen film. So to the little boxes I've known all my life, thank you for giving me the loves of my life and the perfect setting for our friendship to unfold.

Friends You've Yet To Meet

Besides the thrill of sightseeing and the adventure of being in a foreign land, the joy of traveling, for me, lies in the interactions you have with the many people you meet along the way. During my time in Europe, I met so many different people from all over the world and from different walks of life. And, however brief the encounter, I had the pleasure of getting to know them on some genuine level and share some truly incredible moments...

I once sat on a park bench for hours in front of Lake Thun, one of the bluest lakes you'll ever see, talking about politics and literature with a friend I made while hiking up the Harder Kulm. I explored a mediocre city in a setting that just oozed with romance with someone who just oozed with charm (I guess it goes without saying that I didn't think it to be so mediocre afterward). Stayed up til 5AM at our hostel common area just shooting the shit with one of the most intelligent people I've ever met, talking about anything, everything, nothing. Smoked a joint with a Texan and deconstructed the reasons why women have always been so severely disadvantaged in society and why most men thrive despite (or is it because of?) their douchebaggery. Spent an early morning breakfast talking with a musician about our families, our parents, their failed relationship, our failed relationships. Watched a sunset with a panaromic view of Firenze, got pissed drunk and obnoxiously sang 90s hits with new friends we met at our hostel (video evidence below, I have no shame). Ate cheese, drank wine, and awkwardly fidgeted on the Ponte Vecchio as a friend and our newly made friend constantly made passes at each other (oh to be the third wheel!). Danced the night away to some seriously bass-heavy dubstep (the best kind) with some randoms at an obscure Berlin club. Listened with awe as an NGO worker told me about his time in India, which subsequently prompted my quarter life crisis as I began to fiercely question what path I want to take in the future.

Every experience different and each person a unique character with his or her own little nugget of wisdom to share. Every moment ephemeral but every memory enduring.

It's amazing how much you can reveal about yourself and how deeply you can connect with a complete stranger. You're from opposite sides of the world, can sometimes barely even speak the same language, and yet somehow you find some common ground. Is it easier to connect with those you meet on your travels? The ones you share but a fleeting moment with? Because with no history and possibly no future, you can leave all your pretensions behind and just say what you want to say and just be?

"Without a wrinkle in today, cuz there is no tomorrow. Just a picture perfect day to last a whole lifetime".

In any case, meeting fellow wanderers and the conversations I had with them has added even more color to the video reel I have constantly playing in my head as I reminisce about this trip. I appreciate all of our differences but it is our similarities that I rejoice in.

And so, whether by chance or by design, I welcome and look forward to the friends I've yet to meet on my future travels...here's to more conversations, serious or not, and to more dancing, more laughing, more drinking, more singing.

...May you and I always have room for one more friend in our lives : )

Matters of Consequence

Back on my side of the pond and slowly trying to adjust to this thing the grown ups call “real life”. It’s like I got on a plane, crossed an ocean and a few countries and suddenly I’ve been propelled into an entirely different world consumed with what the wise Little Prince likes to call, “matters of consequence”.  One day I’m carefree, exploring historic lands, experiencing local cultures, meeting and connecting with strangers from around the globe and the next day it’s job searching and awkwardly fumbling as I figure out the answer to everyone’s question: “so what are your plans?”. I haven’t got a clue. But fear not, grown ups, I will figure it out.

In the meantime, I will bask in the glory of the memory that was my European adventure, continuing to do what I do best – write…even if my words only make it to this humble little blog of mine.

I’ve learned so much in the short two months that I was gone…about the world, about people, about myself. Traveling has a funny way of taking you completely out of your comfort zone and having you confront things about yourself that you never knew, or at least, for a time, tried to ignore. And now I’ve got a billion questions whirling around in my brain, expecting to be slowly picked up and resolved. But how am I supposed to confront all of the things I’ve learned about myself? Answer all the questions I’ve asked myself? Are there answers? Do I look for them? Do they find me? Do we meet each other halfway? Or do I create the answers as I go along my way?  There you go…another 7 questions to add to the already growing heap collecting in my brain. 

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"Think of the long trip home
Should we have stayed at home and thought of here?
Where should we be today?
Is it right to be watching strangers in a play
in this strangest of theatres?
What childishness is it that while there's a breath of life
in our bodies, we are determined to rush
to see the sun the other way around?
The tiniest green hummingbird in the world?
To stare at some inexplicable old stonework,
inexplicable and impenetrable,
at any view,
instantly seen and always, always delightful?
Oh, must we dream our dreams
and have them, too?
And have we room
for one more folded sunset, still quite warm?"

Soundtrack to a day, every day

What did people do before iPods or mp3 players? How did people survive the lulls of every day life without music to fill the gap?

I was sitting on the train from Dordrecht to Amsterdam today listening to my iPod and let me tell you, it is such a joy to listen to the perfect song that matches your exact mood at the very moment (it was one by Florence and the Machine in this case). Looking out the window seeing all sorts of landscapes. Watching the world quite literally pass before your eyes. Hills, plains, rivers, and homes. Being in transit with a song to celebrate where you've come from, where you're going, and the journey that lay in between...whether it's going from one city to another or something as simple as the commute from home to work. It's bliss being in the moment with a song to serve as your soundtrack.

Sometimes I stare out the window and step outside of my body for a short while. Watching this person watch the green pastures speed past her. I hear the music she's listening to and it's like I'm watching my favourite film about a young woman (someone I've gotten to know intimately) on the road to self-discovery. Don't quite know how the movie ends but hell, it's a sure great way to pass the time.