Adrift

A little thing. Feel silly. Let the line out a bit too much, too fast. Got too far from shore. Exposed. Not safe to have these feelings so far from home. Hear waves lapping, soft, washing away. Can't touch the bottom. Not safe. Ringing in my ears, filled with sound. Words I do not know. My heart is racing. Can't hear over the waves. Suddenly queasy, short of breath. Heart attack or passion. Or feeling foolish for letting out too much line.

Afdip

Those who know me, know afdip, and that it can be anywhere you are. But it is particular to here, and it has become mine, a gift from someone who does not need it anymore. I spent the past month or so making two very different trips stateside. I had not left here for over two years, and owed friends many thanks, had some reconnections and chance meetings that made each day special in terms of personal fulfillment. There was unnecessary anxiety on my part as far as traveling alone, but there is a palpable fear that is transmitted over the wire, and I had to keep my distance from the amounts of fear I sensed from the daily lives I interacted with.I felt such overabundance, everything heightened for maximum impact. There weren't just cars, there were alot of big cars, there weren't stores and restaurants and lights and sounds and intrusive advertisements, they were all prolific king-sized versions of what I remembered. It reminded me of the struggle being worth it, to live simply here. And it is a struggle, but mostly internal for me as I face my many pleasures lessened without a partner. I went no where unfamiliar during my trips, the San Juan Islands, Seattle, and upstate South Carolina. All familiar territory, but many new and old friends came to me and it was wonderful. I do have to keep repeating that regrets are simply things I have not done yet. A good friend made an observation in commenting on our friendship after not seeing each other for over 40 years. When someone you knew when you were thirteen still recognizes you , and loves you, it is sweet, and for the two of us unusual. I have had friends for many years, but not that long with such closeness. It made me see how hard it is to make a real connection now, at this one point in time. Yes, people change but we are still that teenager, that child, we carry the bits with us. I do not allow them out much, only for air in the darkest nights. Yet if you know me, I guess you will see them, in the specks of my green eyes, the expression on my face after a happy thought. I was given some photos during a visit with an old soul, and I could not recognize the person. I know there is a part of her in me, but pushed quite far back. I am opening that window and letting in some light. Now, I read profiles of men, and know this is not a real person: that the complex layers could be hidden forever in trying to know someone. And my profile becomes a written answer. I have had instances where I tried to read between the lines, but the real text remained so hidden...I think this is a sudden and sad shift in American society, and is technologically supported to where it cannot be reversed. I am not sure I will give in to this, especially considering where I live. Its funny, when you meet a Dominican, there is very clear eye contact, and usually a total lack of respect for personal space with a kiss , or two, for each cheek, and some sort of touching, a hug, handshake, or hand bump. There is the cynical part that is worthy of protection, white people can be seen as two armed cash machines, but for the most part there is such a genuine openness in meeting, even with the most overt language barrier, there is an acceptance not seen elsewhere. And during that moment there is eye contact, there is no taking in a defect, a blemish, a roll over the waistband, or any infirmity that would normally initiate a judgement as in the states. Maybe that is the draw coming here, you are accepted for who you are, and there are no questions asked, because they see in, they actually look beyond the labels and imperfections. There is a confidence, a certain pride, without the 'common' knowledge they rarely have an 'acceptable' level of education , social skills, or level of fear and distrust. It is inspiring, and I consider many Dominicans people I can truly count on, even the most casual of acquaintances. I have noticed a number of expats who reinvent themselves on arrival, and while they may stick to their stories, there is a lack of overall success in these lives integrating, they remain on the outside of the real people. They are often easier to spot, the dye bag has exploded in their hands. People are just people was one of my posts, but this is more about a culture of acceptance and willingness to put yourself out there. It is rare to see openly expressed: I have recently had the opportunity to see into some eyes and know this is the way I want to live, and these people will play an important role in my life.

Back in (and on) the land of the living

Well, it took me a little time to get over that last post. Details are available but not necessary to understand this blog has evolved into being off Magpie, but still cruising on land in the Dominican Republic and my experiences here. So, not being damaged from that last experience, I am finding that it allowed me to open up more, instead of less. I have reconnected with people in my past, from as far back as 1972, to high school, nursing school, personal and professional aquaintences, and even my ex-husband, so in my best PollyAnna voice, I find myself saying that something good comes from everything, all things happen for a reason. The rose colored glasses are on and I am moving forward. Or maybe just getting older and nostalgic. Not necessarily mature. And still reaching out, hoping that there is intelligent life here on Earth... I am in yet another different landscape here, in a country so full of micro-climates and very non-Caribbean terrain.It is drier here, but the gardens are still amazing, the mountains still abrupt in their ascent, the plains still African inspired. I overlook a hillside that reminds me of Andalusia , and a valley I am constantly disappointed not to see giraffs loping across. I went for a long involved run yesterday that put me by an abandoned shack on a hillside overlooking a drying riverbed, cattle, and I took the cattle's path down to the dirt road, thinking how fortunate I am to be here, to see each object as I pass, each plant, cow, butterfly, raucous bird. Each fencepost and rusty wire. I am touched at how they have a sence of importance in this snapshot. As I pass onto the dusty road a boy on a bicycle passes me, as if he has never seen a white woman jogging by, he goes to wake up his grandfather sleeping on a bench in the kiosk. Dominicans are sleeping, eating, passing time in the shade as I plod by. They wave, I am offerred a ride, 'Bola?' with grins. I comment on thier cool decorated porches, more grins and stares. I climb over a gate to avoid the extra half mile of dusty road and go up the hill towards my house. It is hot, sunny and beautiful, a strong breeze kicking up from the East... I pass more important parts of the snapshot,posterized as if by a drop of acid, a handmade rock turret, complete with rounded hobbit door, long abandoned to guard the hillside of horses. They stare at me, unmoving, ready to bolt, should I give to their direction. A bundle of sticks tied together, dropped by another passerby, the ubiquitous plastic drink bottle to remind me of the present . ...and I am in love with the mix, the saddness, and the joy, the tightening leg muscles and pouring sweat. Next time I promise not to bring a camera to spoil what I feel and downsize it to a different snapshot of this rural wild place.

I have said my goodbye to Las Galeras, to no one, but to the View of Mona Passage, the land and gardens, to the sweet Thelma dog, and Norton and Trixie I left behind: to no one person though, no human being could I trust with a simple goodbye. I did leave people I wanted to touch before leaving, a final farewell to a place rural and wild, populated by sweet country people and the expats who prey on what they can to survive. I am in another place now, and while my step is light, my core is changed, and hardened. I do not worry how to spend my day, but how to act towards others. How to react to others. How to speak again, from somewhere besides the pain and fear and disgust that churns up every so often, the one too many without the benefit of Monkey Drunk. the butterflies with steel wings that shred the linings of their cage. While my view has changed, both externally and internally, some things remain the same. Some things continue to happen, like the sun rising soft and early, the breeze with a different smell, the sounds raucous, the stars trying to peek out, but never the same again.

Sunday's travelers

The sun wakes me each morning,, 6:15 it begins its rapid rise over the Mona Passage, a direct golden spotlight to my pillow. As I was (slowly) doing yoga,, with the help of Thelma and her coconut husk chew toy, I spied the cannon ball puffs of whale spouts and ceased my slow regular breathing for the rush to grab binoculars. I watched 4 whales make their way along the coastline north. They did not breech,, but they flipped and showed me some tail and generally went at a playful slow speed. I wondered if this was their departure for the northeast, as it is getting time for them to be headed back to Cape Cod and there about. I stopped slow yoga again to watch two more less playful on route home. It is their time to hit the road, leave the flirting, sex , and babies behind for a summer of feasting and avoiding the tour boats of the northeast. It is sad to see them go, but so peaceful to know that their routines, their instincts remain , despite the horrors of human intervention, and changes in weather and environment . I hope to watch them return in January,,, hope that they will stay on course, and that my life will also remain true to my instincts, my plan to be here, to observe the nature, the flora and fauna, the people and not disturb their harmonies. Happy birthday Brother Jon. It is a good day to celebrate.

People are not just people, why I live in the DR

Yesterday I was standing out on the road with a friend waiting for a guagua to take her back to town after a nice visit. . We were at the bottom of the dirt road to my house,, where there is a small country colmado/store, and afew people gather. It was very hot in the sun and we crossed the road to stand in the shade. A man came up behind us, from his house and asked if we wanted to sit down and was making his way back to his house to bring us chairs. It was really touching, but totally commonplace in his world. I looked at Pauline and said,, where else would someone come out of their house to offer two strangers a seat? I was happily reminded why I live here, and politely declined the chairs, smiling and thanking this kind man. Today I was reminded how much farther I still have to go to come close to exhibiting the same spirit of kindness. I saw two young men at the gate of my property on bicycles, and while Mormons or Seventh Day Adventists were not my first thought here in the DR I walked down to the gate and they asked for my ex boyfriend, and I curtly said he no longer lives here. So they smiled and asked for "un chin de agua". I hope my face did not show how put out I was that I would need to walk back to the house and bring them water, On my way back with two cups of cold water I was struck with my total disconnect with yesterdays event. Why would I not have offered water to two bicyclists up a dirt road on a hot day? Is that not the same as offering a chair? How rude that I have not adopted some sense of where I live and who I come in contact with. I smiled and took back dry cups,, promised to pass along the message and wished them well. I will continue to stay focused on what is important each moment of the day. Be kind to my fellow man. Live in the spirit of those whose country I inhabit.

Year of the Magpie

I am off my soapbox, and reflective in a Non 'it is the new year and must set goals and reflect on the mess made of the year past' theme. Theme, theme park, it would make a wonderful theme park where one could absolve ones self of all the goo stuck to you from the past year, past relationship, past job...what would you call it? Goo Be Gone? A place where you could have someone beat you with knotted ropes and scrub you with sandpaper...kind of a reverse spa, with the same smooth skin, envigorated outcome...Sorry I digress, no theme park available at this time, although if you take off on this idea, I want free admission and commission! I have downloaded Magpie as wallpaper to my electronic leash of a telephone, so I happily reminded of Magpie in her glory, at the dock, clean and spanky, ready for her next voyage. As I prepare to slog into 2014 without her, I am on the verge of a new voyage, solo into the Dominican Republic and all its glories and woes. I am excited to align myself to the sweet people, the diverse flora and fauna, the wonderful weather, and my long list of projects..and food, do not forget that I live to eat, not the other way around! Not to bore with the gore, I am living in Las Galeras, Samana, Dominican Republic, living on a parcel of land overlooking the SouthEast waters that separate the DR from Puerto Rico, the Mona Passage, and view the south east entrance of Samana Bay. It is as far East as land will allow in the DR, with a strong refreshing, and often rain-laden breeze. Read no mosquitos in that, and high off the water, to watch the cruise ships and winter whales slide by. And so begins the new year, with Three Kings Day soon to pass, all that will be left is Carnival, and then the sleepy slow routine returns and there are no excuses not to be on track , ready for passion or beer, crime or rum, drugs or putas, or whatever else has lured the beast to its lair. I think I fall out of the above mentioned categories of the Top Reasons to be in the DR, although I have recently been informed that even if one does not partake, eventually a Top Reason becomes part of life here. I need to add wine to the list and then I am free to continue on the same road as the others! Bon Voyage.