April 28th, 2009
I’m home now. And working on settling back in. Travelling is so hard on me! I am a confirmed homebody and I would never go anywhere just for the fun of going there – I wouldn’t have gone to California if it hadn’t been to see one of the giants of the type of psychotherapy I am learning. So did I tell you that? I was at a two day course about the therapy, comprised of lectures and tapes of the head guy’s work. It was really amazing and I again feel humbled by the subtlety and complexity of this method, which he makes look effortless but which I know from painful experience is anything but.
Anyway, I hate to travel and once I’m travelled I resist attempts to go and do things, because the next best thing after being a homebody at home is to be a homebody at a hotel. Swine flu provided a great excuse to read in my hotel room in the evenings and when all was said and done, I did zero sightseeing. I sort of knew I’d only go out on Monday, but by Monday there were travel advisories and the WHO had upgraded the swine flu alert level and there were outbreaks of it in San Diego proper, so I ditched my plans for sightseeing and spent Monday getting on an earlier flight to come home.
I am disappointed I didn’t get to go to the zoo, which I really did want to see, but not too disappointed. The thing I always want to do more than anything else when I’m on vacation is come home, and I did that, so I’m happy. (The only sort of holidays I love without reservation are road trips. ROAD TRIIIIP!)
So, there is not much to tell you about my holiday. I imagine you are not very interested in the layout of my hotel room or the contents of terrible American TV. But nonetheless I offer miscellany:
1. The pop machines (sorry, soda machines) take bills. In Canada we have coins for the one and two dollar denominations and this makes machine-food purchasing a snap. Bill taking machines are fussy as hell and twice I was unable to get a diet coke in the morning, which left me angrily shaking my crumpled one dollar bills at the fucking machine in helpless despair. 7am is too early to be denied pop when you have the freaking money. Switch to coins, America! And get a two dollar denomination, my god, what a hassle wandering around with wads of ones when you broke your five to buy a newspaper.
2. All the low level employees are brown and all the administrators/bosses are white. This really freaks me out. I feel like a plantation owner by proxy when the white concierge waves over a brown porter to carry my bag to my room. I have never seen such a clear division of job type by race before and it was very unsettling. I had vague rumblings of guilt about this the whole time. Also, my hotel was a pretty nice one (remember how I hate to do things when I travel? I picked the hotel where the conference was to stay in to minimize travel) and the lower level staff were at great pains to show me respect, calling me ma’am and bowing and such, which only compounded the yucky feeling. None of the white desk clerks called me ma’am or bowed to me.
3. People in airports are stupid. I was on the phone with Husband while sitting at the departure gate waiting to board the plane when there was an announcement that our passports would need to be shown along with our boarding passes to get on the plane. This is standard and no big deal – actually security at the airports was significantly less assholey than the last time I travelled in the US. Anyway, some rube sitting a few seats down from me drops his mouth open in faux outrage and starts saying, really loud, “What a bunch of crap! I already showed my passport to security! I mean, if you can’t even get that straight, what the hell are you doing running an airline? What a bunch of idiots! This is sooooo stupid!” Mental note: make sure I am in line ahead of this guy.
4. Americans don’t realize 9-11 wasn’t a huge tragedy for the rest of us. I’m not saying it wasn’t terrible and a tragedy for those involved… but we weren’t involved. I feel as sad about 9-11 as I do about any other global event causing many deaths. I think it makes sense that it was much more meaningful for Americans than for me, because after all my country wasn’t attacked, my citizens weren’t the targets, none of my cities were damaged. I do feel sad for those who suffered, and of course it was a terrible event… but that’s about it. Twice I had someone mention 9-11 to me this weekend as though that made the final, shocking, blunt-force emotional comment on whatever we were discussing (just like “the nazis” which of course ends all arguments). Both parties know I am not American. In one example someone said, “It was an enormous trauma. Like, imagine if 9-11 happened again,” and looking at me expectantly as though that should really say it all. Note to America: Non-Americans are, in fact, not Americans. There are other lenses through which to view the world.
Knowing what a big deal this is for Americans I hope I haven’t just totally alienated every American reader I have – really, 9-11 was terrible. It was wrong and shouldn’t have happened and many people suffered and continue to suffer and I feel for you. But it doesn’t define my life the way it defines yours. It’s okay that I’m less upset about it than you. You probably don’t care much about the Montreal Massacre, which is okay. It didn’t happen to you. (I realize it is something of a false comparison simply on grounds of number who died, but then consider Columbine, which had a less deaths than Montreal but is probably enormously more emotionally relevant to you.)
End of rambling explanation. I still love you America, we just see things differently.
5. ENCHILADAS!
6. I saw no spiders. Not a one. Actually I don’t think I saw a single insect either. Strangely sterile, La Jolla.
7. I am so glad to be home.