My inner "Walden Pond"

I haven't seen a cloud in the sky since I arrived in Oaxaca early Monday morning, bleary-eyed from the overnight bus. (There is always a moment on the overnight bus, at say, 3:15 a.m, when I think-"I will never do this again," but then, like all really painful things, the horror of it fades in my mind and the next thing I know, there I am, about to get on an overnight bus.)

Yes, I made it to Mexico. Green, white and red. Tacos on every corner. Jugs of horchata and rose de jamaica. Live music and dancing on the zocalo in the evenings. Murals and graffiti and skeletons up to all sorts of antics. Cathedrals and plazas and colonial buildings with big, airy courtyards.

So--What have I been doing since I arrived here, you may ask?

The answer is nothing. Yes, I am quite serious--nothing. There is no to-do list. Kate lived here for three years so I just follow her about, not caring where we end up, not intent on an agenda. It feels nice to have someone else in charge for a while.

Nice, yes. But something in my nature is uncomfortable with the blanket of unscheduled time laid out before me each day. Something in my head whispers--what do you intend to accomplish today? What will you have to show for your time in Mexico? I chalk it up to American culture--that the desire to do, do, do is inherent in me and I am not able to squelch it, even when I really try. (And I am REALLY trying: siesta every afternoon, sitting by the pool before lunch, leisurely breakfasts and almost two books under my belt.)

Kate tells me that the lack of pressure to do anything is what she loves most about Mexican culture. When she lived here she was thrilled to discover that when her Mexican friends asked her, "Què hiciste hoy?," their response was the same whether she said: "I studied Spanish for two hours, went to Yoga, cleaned the house, bought groceries, etc." or if she said: "I went to the bank." It didn't matter to them if she spent her spare time making bamboo furniture and perfecting her mole sauce, or if she sat around and played with her dogs all day; there was no judgement on how she spent her time, and she loved that about living here. She feels that the U.S. puts pressure on her not to "waste" her time, pressure that is constant and unyielding.

I wrote to Brendan, (my Aussie nomad friend who talked me into this whole "quit-your-job-and-travel-about" thing) about my guilty unease with having so much free time, so little responsibility, so much "unproductivity" in my life.

And he responded: "Sounds like you need to read Thoreau's Walden Pond - for a truly great American perspective on life."

So I am trying to cultivate my inner Walden Pond. I am searching for a way to be more comfortable with the nothing that fills my days. I have a feeling that, by the time I have mastered it, I will be back at home, applying for jobs, finding a place to live, watching my to-do list grow exponentially.

I guess I should just enjoy nothing while it lasts.