getting around

International travel continues to surprise me. Not only are the differences from my routines so astonishing, but so too are the unexpected similarities. The recent trip to Colombia reminded me how nicely I've insulated myself within my native language. What startled me was how varied the voices were among those who grew up speaking Colombian Spanish. There was husky voices and grating voices, some were high and a few were low. Also the homes we visited had subtle architectural features. Our friends' condo had open transoms over every door and tiled floors left uncovered. The combined effect was a happy home as laughter bounced off the walls, up and down the stairs, and into every room. Another house was openly framed with huge sections of local bamboo, a response to environmental issues by using local materials.

Despite the contrasts, one similarity between cities in Colombia, China and South Africa in the varieties of transportation found on the roads. All three have a higher proportion of buses and taxis than I typically see in the USA. But there are also two-wheeled wooden carts pulled by hand, large luxury SUVs, and a range of motor scooters. Unique to Colombia was that there were at least three tiers of motorcycles. While cars tended to remain in their designated lanes, cycles and scooters would fill any and all interstitial spaces. When the traffic signals turn green, vehicles sort and segregate according to horsepower: mopeds watch as they lose pole position to motorcycles and sports cars. Finally, I can report that domestic airports in Colombia are as casual as very nice American train stations. Stroll in the door, throw down a few thousand pesos and you can be in the air to another gorgeous location with very little hassle.

So many other images and so much additional information fills my head that I can't imagine how to organize and present it. We saw giant bronze sculptures of chubby people, rode a tramway over two mountains under which were tin shacks, and ate a meal that consisted of 20 "moments" several of which relied upon liquid nitrogen as part of the effect. But most stunning of all was a tiny town in the lush valleys of central Colombia. I hesitate to write about it for fear of disclosing its existence. There are inexpensive rooms to be rented and wondrous coffees to be consumed. I took pictures but they don't do justice to the glories it holds. It's best left to direct experience. Make your way past the shops and eateries, ascend the stairs, and its just over the hill past the guy offering cervezas from a cooler at the crest. Coffee bushes, palm trees, bubbling brooks and inviting trails. Since the weather is so consistent just 4°N it doesn't matter what time of year to go. Not a matter of if but simply when.

warm snowy memory

During the last presidential campaign, Sue and I were invited up to New Hampshire to meet a candidate. It's a longer story than I will tell here but Sue actually shook Barack's hand while the closest I could get was to watch him make his way to and from the house on a snowy morning. This snowfall was very heavy and wet but it wasn't especially cold. In truth, the weather was accurately forecasted; at the time, I would barely allow myself to dare believe this guy would become President.

All of this came back to me today when Sue reserved a birthday gift of a framed picture of that day. Our host is also a photographer and when Sue unwrapped the gift, I realized I probably need to take more pictures. Seeing this image was as if someone had scanned a cluster of my neurons and downloaded the image. I can feel the moisture in the air and remember happily trudging through the thick snow. In addition, I recall Beyonce's performance of At Last where she became so overwhelmed by the moment that she hurried away from the spotlight before the tears really flowed.

I googled Barack Obama New Hampshire and quickly found the text of a speech he gave shortly after we saw him. It includes lots of "yes we can." Even after nearly two years, despite the economic downturn, the legislative battles, and even the difficulties of managing wars, I confess to feeling a lump form in my throat as I read his words. While he never wanted to be a savior, he was evidently prophetic:

We know the battle ahead will be long. But always remember that, no matter what obstacles stand in our way, nothing can stand in the way of the power of millions of voices calling for change.

We have been told we cannot do this by a chorus of cynics. And they will only grow louder and more dissonant in the weeks and months to come.

We've been asked to pause for a reality check. We've been warned against offering the people of this nation false hope. But in the unlikely story that is America, there has never been anything false about hope.

Sometimes it feels brash to plan too far into the future. Although Sue had heard the line before when uttered by the Car Talk guys, the physician's diagnosis that "you shouldn't buy any green bananas" struck me as funny ... but also uncomfortably reminiscent of cautions about getting our hopes up. Clearly it is important to recognize the dangers of promises about forever. And yet, there is value in living with an awareness of finiteness. Poet Sharon Bryan has been very helpful to me by expressing a middle age view of life in this way in her poem Foreseeing:

so you know without a doubt
that it has an end—
not that it will have,

but that it does have,
if only in outline—
so for the first time

you can see your life whole,
beginning and end not far
from where you stand,

the horizon in the distance—
the view makes you weep,
but it also has the beauty

of symmetry, like the earth
seen from space: you can't help
but admire it from afar

Here in Connecticut, we just had our first hard frost. Otherwise, it's been very mild, light-jacket weather. But winter is on its way. I am eager for the first true snowfall, where the flakes are so heavy they pull eyelids down and where one thinks that if there was no traffic, the collisions of flakes with branches and pavement would be audible. And in that moments, I'll have a fleeting recollection of Barack Obama making his way, late from a previous appointment, up the walk which the Secret Service had so thoughtfully sprinkled with sand. And I won't be ashamed to hope some more.