I was walking on the beach in Delaware recently, and as I settled my feet into the sand at the water’s edge, I had a sense that I was my own artifact, a remnant of another time, washed ashore by the slow, steady push of currents in deep water. This morning, a similar experiment in the waters of Playa del Carmen yielded vastly different results. The clear blue-green water and soft white sand suggested something of the future, an alien ocean supporting a reckless explorer, his space-suit crumpled on the beach.
Perhaps this is unsurprising. I am, after all, a man on an odd path, pursuing a future that is anything but clear. The fact that my own expectations included something more like pirate ships suggests nothing but inexperience. Luckily, simply because of the way the world works, I am forced to learn as I go, and in such an unfamiliar environment, I’ll have to learn quickly.
Some of the methods are obvious. On Monday I start my CELTA (Certificate in English Language Teaching to Adults) program, which should give me some interesting insights into my own language and the way that it is perceived and used in other countries. At the same time, my decision to take the class in Mexico has already made some demands on my limited Spanish, forcing me to work harder to understand, and to be understood.
On the other hand, I am someone who has always been suspicious about the nature of the Universe and wonder whether there are more subtle lessons that would bring more clarity, if only I could finally find that hidden band on my mental radio. I am troubled by the fact that the really serious questions may never be answered, and am (to my own chagrin) somewhat enervated by this, an axiom most humans accept without discussion.
The problem may simply be one of displacement; I am far removed from all that is familiar, and spent the last two months before my departure in the most sentimental places, my parents’ homes. Of course, the problem may be more serious than even I imagine. Travel means more than simply moving through physical space. Travel requires adaptation, and even transformation. After all, the man who met me at the airport held a sign that said, ‘Guus Tosey’, a moniker I’ll have to consider adopting.
It is faintly interesting (to me, at least) that the book I’m currently reading is Gulliver’s Travels. That choice was made primarily as a result of it being free, but it has turned out to be a story that I find both deeply interesting and hugely funny; I had not expected to laugh out loud. And, it is interesting to note the parallels that exist, common to all travelers, but of special importance to anyone feeling the shock of unexpected environments. Obviously, my own journey will include fewer talking horses, and only a slim chance of time aboard a hovering island.
For now, I’ll continue to explore, learning about the geography and society around me and, hopefully, the quiet signals for which we have not yet constructed an adequate receiver. Perhaps some more time at the beach will help.
For those of you who are disappointed with the speed at which humans make technological progress, I’m here to offer you solace, albeit at some cost. If you’re still lamenting the absent hover-cars and jet-packs (as I am) I suggest you turn to robotics for some much-needed reassurance.
