Rituals of self-removal
As I prepare for another leg of this big journey which is this year, I am compelled to think about why I do this to myself when travel inevitably causes me separation anxiety.
Nico and I, middle of the afternoon, lobbing tennis balls that are not ours (the court was full so we tried some I had brought, and they were useless... at times like this, I wish I had a dog-friend to whom I could re-gift them). We are speaking our strange interlanguage mix... I learn words in Italian, Portuguese, he learns them in Spanish, English... sometimes we just realize what we have forgotten, or never known, in one of our languages, which is generally amusing. The sun is bright and hot, and we are not any better than usual, but I might, in fact, be worse having little to no wrist control. So we decide to check out the jacuzzi.
As we walk around the side of the Rec Cen, and come to the edge of campus, we are struck by an immense and all-encompassing SILENCE. I don't know that I have ever heard campus so quiet, or seen so few bikes, but there is practically no one, and I take great pleasure in this fact. And as we are sitting in the hot water, telling stories, I confess to him that I don't really want to go.
I mean, I want to be with my girl, and even with my family in NH, but I wish that to do that, it didn't imply leaving. I look up. Bye, bye Santa Barbara, I want to wave and cry. Bye bye warm lovely perfect weather, installations that I rarely make use of, friends...
The weeks before I make a big trip that implies great change, I always have certain rituals. One is having a "last" encounter with friends. I had lunch with Robert last week, just in case when I come back he has gone to Spain for good. Nico and I, of course, have been having last minute visits repeatedly, but today he has left for Las Vegas, a trip that I had planned on taking with him and Ellen, but bailed in lieu of being in loving arms sooner. I feel this need to set things right, and I pack up my house even before my work is done.
But the most interesting of these rituals is that I always have to discover something new about the place I am in before I leave as if to create some sort of suspense for my required return. It is like sowing seeds in the hope that when I return I will find some sort of wild and mysterious, previously unsuspected plant. Last night, as it turns out, was such an experience. David had us over to his house for dinner. Finally. I say finally because it has been almost a year since we have been talking about having a dinner party and for one reason, or another, it hasn't happened until now. As Daniel noted, in Santa Barbara life is deferred. I hadn't associated this phenomenon to this place, but I find it an accurate assessment, in part due to the fact that the city is beholden to the quarter schedule of the university, and thusly, so are we all.
David went to France last week, he claims solely for the procurement of a crepe pan... and the crepes were spectacular: St. Jacques, Jambon et fromage, Pomme et chantilly... we had a multi-hour meal in which I was finally able to divest myself of the last remnants of my kitchen, a lovely bottle of Mumm champagne that I got over Christmas and has been chilling ever since, but because K. and I were not feeling great on New Year's was deferrred... I also regifted the flowers that I bought for myself and which had decorated my bedside table and kitchen for the last few weeks. Better they continue to be enjoyed, I thought. So we decided to go out dancing, but we decided to check out what we hoped/ thought was a Mexican tranny bar on Milpas: La Pachanga. It was Mexican all right, but there was not a tranny to be found.
I tried not to stare, but when one is the object of staring, it is hard not to stare back. David danced with me, asked if it was alright to touch me... he felt the need for a hetero-guard, but in the opposite sense. Daniel and Krista were bouncing along, and Kik was mildly annoyed at being man-handled on the way in. I guess my tolerance for it is higher? I haven't had to turn down quite so many dance-partners in a five-minute span, perhaps ever, and we ultimately jumped ship out the back door. What a strange, strange place that was. People would fill the floor for one song and then file out in a wooshing exodus, abandoning the dance floor after the song was over, sit back down and watch us. Or others. There were a whole lot of cowboy hats, and boots. Nylon dresses that barely contained exploding flesh, vaqueros and t-shirts... There was probably an 8:1 ration of men to women, but that didn't seem to be a problem.
After that the girls staggered home, David went to bed and Daniel and I went back out, this time to Muddy Waters where there was a bass-beat every minute and a white? rapper or something performing spoken word, people trancing out, and wiggling their bodies like monkeys on acid, or worms on a hot frying pan. It was a vastly different visual experience, but to my chagrin, one I was at least more socially comfortable in. I don't know that I will be returning to either of those places, but it was exciting to discover a world outside my limited sphere, if only for a moment before I flee. Tonight we'll go for tried and true, I hope, and actually find some music we can dance to.
Nico and I, middle of the afternoon, lobbing tennis balls that are not ours (the court was full so we tried some I had brought, and they were useless... at times like this, I wish I had a dog-friend to whom I could re-gift them). We are speaking our strange interlanguage mix... I learn words in Italian, Portuguese, he learns them in Spanish, English... sometimes we just realize what we have forgotten, or never known, in one of our languages, which is generally amusing. The sun is bright and hot, and we are not any better than usual, but I might, in fact, be worse having little to no wrist control. So we decide to check out the jacuzzi.
As we walk around the side of the Rec Cen, and come to the edge of campus, we are struck by an immense and all-encompassing SILENCE. I don't know that I have ever heard campus so quiet, or seen so few bikes, but there is practically no one, and I take great pleasure in this fact. And as we are sitting in the hot water, telling stories, I confess to him that I don't really want to go.
I mean, I want to be with my girl, and even with my family in NH, but I wish that to do that, it didn't imply leaving. I look up. Bye, bye Santa Barbara, I want to wave and cry. Bye bye warm lovely perfect weather, installations that I rarely make use of, friends...
The weeks before I make a big trip that implies great change, I always have certain rituals. One is having a "last" encounter with friends. I had lunch with Robert last week, just in case when I come back he has gone to Spain for good. Nico and I, of course, have been having last minute visits repeatedly, but today he has left for Las Vegas, a trip that I had planned on taking with him and Ellen, but bailed in lieu of being in loving arms sooner. I feel this need to set things right, and I pack up my house even before my work is done.
But the most interesting of these rituals is that I always have to discover something new about the place I am in before I leave as if to create some sort of suspense for my required return. It is like sowing seeds in the hope that when I return I will find some sort of wild and mysterious, previously unsuspected plant. Last night, as it turns out, was such an experience. David had us over to his house for dinner. Finally. I say finally because it has been almost a year since we have been talking about having a dinner party and for one reason, or another, it hasn't happened until now. As Daniel noted, in Santa Barbara life is deferred. I hadn't associated this phenomenon to this place, but I find it an accurate assessment, in part due to the fact that the city is beholden to the quarter schedule of the university, and thusly, so are we all.
David went to France last week, he claims solely for the procurement of a crepe pan... and the crepes were spectacular: St. Jacques, Jambon et fromage, Pomme et chantilly... we had a multi-hour meal in which I was finally able to divest myself of the last remnants of my kitchen, a lovely bottle of Mumm champagne that I got over Christmas and has been chilling ever since, but because K. and I were not feeling great on New Year's was deferrred... I also regifted the flowers that I bought for myself and which had decorated my bedside table and kitchen for the last few weeks. Better they continue to be enjoyed, I thought. So we decided to go out dancing, but we decided to check out what we hoped/ thought was a Mexican tranny bar on Milpas: La Pachanga. It was Mexican all right, but there was not a tranny to be found.
I tried not to stare, but when one is the object of staring, it is hard not to stare back. David danced with me, asked if it was alright to touch me... he felt the need for a hetero-guard, but in the opposite sense. Daniel and Krista were bouncing along, and Kik was mildly annoyed at being man-handled on the way in. I guess my tolerance for it is higher? I haven't had to turn down quite so many dance-partners in a five-minute span, perhaps ever, and we ultimately jumped ship out the back door. What a strange, strange place that was. People would fill the floor for one song and then file out in a wooshing exodus, abandoning the dance floor after the song was over, sit back down and watch us. Or others. There were a whole lot of cowboy hats, and boots. Nylon dresses that barely contained exploding flesh, vaqueros and t-shirts... There was probably an 8:1 ration of men to women, but that didn't seem to be a problem.
After that the girls staggered home, David went to bed and Daniel and I went back out, this time to Muddy Waters where there was a bass-beat every minute and a white? rapper or something performing spoken word, people trancing out, and wiggling their bodies like monkeys on acid, or worms on a hot frying pan. It was a vastly different visual experience, but to my chagrin, one I was at least more socially comfortable in. I don't know that I will be returning to either of those places, but it was exciting to discover a world outside my limited sphere, if only for a moment before I flee. Tonight we'll go for tried and true, I hope, and actually find some music we can dance to.
posted by ilana at 10:02 a.m.
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