Read Online Tales of a Female Nomad by Rita Golden Gelman - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Rita Golden Gelman
Tags: Fiction
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U.S., I am not bound by the rules of my culture. And when I am a foreigner in another country, I am exempt from the local rules. This extraordinary situation means that there are no rules in my life. I am free to live by the standards and ideals and rules I create for myself.
Guatemala
CHAPTER FOUR
LEARNING HOW
For the first time in my life I am not worrying about how my behavior might reflect upon my family. My parents are a continent away in Connecticut, my husband is no longer my husband, and my kids are busy building independent lives. It’s a heady place to be for a woman who has always lived her roles appropriately and played the game by the rules.
I can do whatever I want to do!
And what I want to do is move through other worlds, learn what it is that makes us all human, and interact with people who are different from me.
I decide to begin my new life in Guatemala. This time I leave with hope and excitement instead of tears. Mexico has shown me that the world is peopled with fascinating varieties of human beings. And I am convinced that most of them are just as eager to meet me as I am to meet them.
I pack everything I own: two pairs of pants, one skirt, four T-shirts. A sweater. Underwear. A bathing suit. Toothpaste, toothbrush, deodorant, sunblock, insect repellant, sneakers, and four plastic bags. I put in my Spanish dictionary, the Lonely Planet guide to Guatemala, a novel to read and trade, a Swiss Army knife, and a sleeping bag. And finally, I pack two empty spiral notebooks, some ballpoint pens, and the smallest secondhand manual typewriter I can find. I’ve given everything else away.
A friend gives me a threadbare (as requested) face towel that can fit in a small space and wash and dry easily.
I’ve decided to go to the colonial town of Antigua, a popular stopover on the backpacker trail. But this time I’m not plugging into the backpacker network; I’m planning to settle in and become part of the expatriot community, which is made up, I’m told, mostly of Americans.
On the plane, I am overwhelmed with doubt for the first time since I made my decision to live an alternative life. Images of being alone and friendless rush into my head. Do I really believe what I’ve been telling myself about what makes me happy? Maybe there are fundamental reasons why people don’t go off permanently adventuring.
During the five-hour flight, I struggle to convince myself that I have made the right decision; and then, as the plane nears Guatemala City, the pilot announces that the airport is backed up because of bad weather. We will have to circle for half an hour. A bad sign, I think, feeling uncharacteristically superstitious.
And then I look out the window. The plane is surrounded by rainbows, bright, sparkling, full-color rainbows against a sky full of clouds. Four, five, maybe six rainbows are arcing on all sides of us.
We circle out of the rainbows and fly around, and then they are back, these spectacular symbols of joy and harmony and peace. What a fabulous sign that my new convenant with life is the right decision.
Tucked into a valley forty-five kilometers from Guatemala City, Antigua is a charming colonial town surrounded by three volcanoes. The streets are cobblestone; the houses and public buildings, colonial; and the central plaza, with its fountains, shade trees, and wooden benches is designed for people watching.
Within a few hours of my arrival in Antigua, I sign up for Spanish classes and move in with a family recommended by the school. The family, who are instructed to speak only Spanish to me, consists of two teenage children and a couple in their early forties. When I am introduced, the kids smile politely, but they do not talk to me. Elena, the mother, asks me a few questions, tells me that dinner is at seven o’clock, and returns to her housework. My room has a bed, a chest, and a desk.
I unpack and dig out an address. When I was in Los Angeles, a friend told me about a
Guatemala
CHAPTER FOUR
LEARNING HOW
For the first time in my life I am not worrying about how my behavior might reflect upon my family. My parents are a continent away in Connecticut, my husband is no longer my husband, and my kids are busy building independent lives. It’s a heady place to be for a woman who has always lived her roles appropriately and played the game by the rules.
I can do whatever I want to do!
And what I want to do is move through other worlds, learn what it is that makes us all human, and interact with people who are different from me.
I decide to begin my new life in Guatemala. This time I leave with hope and excitement instead of tears. Mexico has shown me that the world is peopled with fascinating varieties of human beings. And I am convinced that most of them are just as eager to meet me as I am to meet them.
I pack everything I own: two pairs of pants, one skirt, four T-shirts. A sweater. Underwear. A bathing suit. Toothpaste, toothbrush, deodorant, sunblock, insect repellant, sneakers, and four plastic bags. I put in my Spanish dictionary, the Lonely Planet guide to Guatemala, a novel to read and trade, a Swiss Army knife, and a sleeping bag. And finally, I pack two empty spiral notebooks, some ballpoint pens, and the smallest secondhand manual typewriter I can find. I’ve given everything else away.
A friend gives me a threadbare (as requested) face towel that can fit in a small space and wash and dry easily.
I’ve decided to go to the colonial town of Antigua, a popular stopover on the backpacker trail. But this time I’m not plugging into the backpacker network; I’m planning to settle in and become part of the expatriot community, which is made up, I’m told, mostly of Americans.
On the plane, I am overwhelmed with doubt for the first time since I made my decision to live an alternative life. Images of being alone and friendless rush into my head. Do I really believe what I’ve been telling myself about what makes me happy? Maybe there are fundamental reasons why people don’t go off permanently adventuring.
During the five-hour flight, I struggle to convince myself that I have made the right decision; and then, as the plane nears Guatemala City, the pilot announces that the airport is backed up because of bad weather. We will have to circle for half an hour. A bad sign, I think, feeling uncharacteristically superstitious.
And then I look out the window. The plane is surrounded by rainbows, bright, sparkling, full-color rainbows against a sky full of clouds. Four, five, maybe six rainbows are arcing on all sides of us.
We circle out of the rainbows and fly around, and then they are back, these spectacular symbols of joy and harmony and peace. What a fabulous sign that my new convenant with life is the right decision.
Tucked into a valley forty-five kilometers from Guatemala City, Antigua is a charming colonial town surrounded by three volcanoes. The streets are cobblestone; the houses and public buildings, colonial; and the central plaza, with its fountains, shade trees, and wooden benches is designed for people watching.
Within a few hours of my arrival in Antigua, I sign up for Spanish classes and move in with a family recommended by the school. The family, who are instructed to speak only Spanish to me, consists of two teenage children and a couple in their early forties. When I am introduced, the kids smile politely, but they do not talk to me. Elena, the mother, asks me a few questions, tells me that dinner is at seven o’clock, and returns to her housework. My room has a bed, a chest, and a desk.
I unpack and dig out an address. When I was in Los Angeles, a friend told me about a
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